All Chapters of Claimed by the wolves.: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Juliette’s POVThe forest lay quiet, but quiet never meant safety. The trees swayed in a gentle wind, their leaves whispering secrets that only the sharpest senses could decipher. I stepped carefully along the narrow path, the faint light of dawn filtering through the canopy, casting fractured patterns on the forest floor. Dorian and Bryan flanked me, their eyes scanning the shadows as if they could see threats that my own eyes could not. Behind us, the Warrior’s presence throbbed in my mind—a steady, unyielding pulse that anchored me, sharpened me, guided me.Rowan’s allies had vanished after our last encounter, but their silence felt like a warning, a promise of danger lingering just beyond sight. Every instinct screamed vigilance. The forest was no longer just a path to the coordinates; it was a living maze of unseen predators, traps, and tests. And we had learned, through fire and blood, that nothing should be taken at face value.We moved in perfect sync, a unit honed by battles

Juliette’s POVThe forest never truly sleeps.Even after the clash, after the shadow wolf vanished and silence reclaimed the trees, I could feel it breathing around us. The earth still hummed beneath my boots. The wind carried too many scents at once damp soil crushed leaves distant iron blood old magic. The kind that never fully fades.We moved back toward Blackridge in formation, not retreating but recalibrating. Dorian took point. Bryan guarded our rear. I stayed centered between them, every sense stretched tight, listening not just with my ears but with something deeper that pulsed beneath my ribs.The Warrior’s presence pressed against my consciousness like a steady hand between my shoulders.Alert. Focused. Watchful.He was still with the pack physically, I knew that. I could feel his grounding presence there too like an anchor sunk deep into Blackridge soil. But spiritually, he was fully with me now. His awareness bled into mine, threading through my senses until it was hard to

Juliette’s POV:The warning howl still echoed in my bones long after the sound itself vanished into the trees.Someone had crossed Blackridge territory without resistance.Not forced entry.Not stealth alone.Permission.That truth followed me onto the training grounds like a second shadow.By sunrise, the pack was already moving.Blackridge had never been a pack that waited.We trained like athletes, fought like soldiers, and thought like strategists. Our strength wasn’t just inherited — it was earned through discipline carved into muscle and instinct.The wide clearing beyond the ridge buzzed with motion.Combat rings were already active, wolves shifting in and out of human form midstrike. Endurance teams ran the perimeter in staggered formation, timing their breathing with the terrain. Strategy units gathered around raised platforms where simulated battlefield markers glowed faintly with pack magic.This was our sport side.Our pride.Blackridge didn’t just survive wars.We prepare

Juliette’s POVThe forest had a weight today, an almost tangible tension that pressed down on every leaf, every root, every whisper of wind. I followed the trail of the sigil, now faint but insistent, its pull threading through the trees like a current only my senses could trace. The Warrior’s presence hummed in my mind, steady, unwavering, guiding me. I could feel him both here and at the pack’s territory, his vigilance spanning the distance, his pulse echoing reassurance that the Blackridge wolves were safe—for now.The air thickened as we went deeper into the forest. Each step seemed deliberate, measured, yet even my heightened instincts recognized the subtle ripples of disturbance in the surroundings. Roots twisted underfoot like serpents, moss hid the earth’s irregularities, and the branches above stretched into a tangled web that threatened to ensnare the unwary. But this was no ordinary hunt, no ordinary pursuit. The sigil’s pull was subtle yet insistent. It whispered of blood,

Juliette’s POV:The scent lingered long after the Warrior’s howl faded.It clung to the wind, sharp and controlled, threaded with something that made my blood hum in recognition.Not Rowan. Not the scout.Something else.The hidden brother’s presence felt deliberate, measured, like a hand placed just close enough to touch without making contact.“He crossed the boundary,” Bryan murmured beside me, crouching low as he examined the disturbed earth. “No rush. No struggle. Whoever this is, he wanted to be noticed.”“Or counted,” Dorian added. His gaze swept the tree line, calculating. “Claims don’t always start with violence.”The Warrior’s presence pulsed in my chest, steady but alert. Yes, he confirmed. These are not attacks.These are markers. He is saying: I am here. I remember. This land still knows my blood.We moved along the outer perimeter of Blackridge territory at dawn, the forest hushed beneath the pale light. That was when we saw the first sigil.It was carved into the trunk