Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed by the wolves.: Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 150

Juliette’s POV:Cassian laughed once, sharp, brittle, and completely without even the slightest hint of humor.“You mistake superstitions for wisdom.”The sound scraped across the chamber like flint on stone.The Alpha’s gaze snapped to him.The temperature dropped so abruptly it felt as though the air itself had recoiled. The oxygen in my lungs felt like it had solidified.The glow of the sigils dimmed remarkably, sharpening into something much colder, more severe. Even the witnesses reacted, spectral forms tightening, their outlines becoming even more defined and more present, as though the land had decided this moment required precision.“You mistake control for legitimacy,” the Alpha replied, the sound of his voice dangerously low.His voice did not echo.It settled.The words sank into the stone beneath our feet, into the marrow of every wolf standing witness. I felt them reverberate right through my spine, right through the Warrior’s presence curled tight inside my chest. This d

Juliette’s POV:The land did not bother waiting for my consent.I mean, when has it ever?The second horn shattered the fragile equilibrium of the chamber like glass under a hammer—sharp, discordant, and so very wrong. Not the deep ceremonial call of judgment, it sounded more like a cry torn from urgency and fear, pitched to cut right through stone and bone alike.Something was breaking above us.Something we had sworn would never fall.The sigil beneath my feet burned even hotter, its light crawling up my legs like molten veins. I gasped, instinctively reaching for the Warrior, and immediately slammed into absence.No, not silence.Not emptiness either. Just cold, distance.It felt like trying to breathe with half my lungs squeezed shut. Like reaching for a heartbeat that was no longer in my chest but still insisted on existing somewhere painfully close.I could see him with my mind’s eye, feel his presence even, but I couldn’t touch. He was just out of reach. A cruel joke isnt it?

Juliette’s POV:The sound that followed was more a tear than an explosion.A low, dragging sound—like the world itself being pulled apart seam by seam. Stone screamed. Not cracked. Screamed. The chamber lurched violently, pitching me forward as the floor beneath us buckled and realigned, spirals distorting into jagged, uneven angles that no longer obeyed any symmetry I recognized.Blackridge was done waitingIt was finally reacting.I braced myself over the Warrior’s body instinctively, shielding him with my own as the ceiling shed dust and shards of stone. Something sharp grazed my shoulder; pain flared hot and immediate, but I barely registered it.My focus tunneled.Him.His breath was growing shallower. Each inhale sounded like it was being dragged through broken glass.“No,” I whispered. “No, stay with me. Please.”“Juliette.”His voice barely reached me this time. The thread between us..once a vast, unbreakable conduit.. had thinned some much it had become something fragile and

Juliette’s POV:The voice did not echo.It inhabited the chamber.It filled the stone, the sigils, the spiral beneath our feet, the air in our lungs. It did not come from above or below — it came from everywhere at once, like the land itself had learned how to speak.“Fulcrum… you stand where none were meant to.”The words were not sound.They were pressure.Meaning.Command without force.Truth without mercy.The sigil beneath my feet burned hotter, white light searing into the stone, into the air, into my senses. The power wrapping my body tightened—not restraining me, not harming me, but claiming alignment. Like gravity deciding I was its center.The witnesses staggered.Some fell to one knee.Some simply vanished, their spectral forms dissolving like mist under heat, as if they were never meant to witness what came next.Cassian didn’t move.Not forward.Not back.Not even in fear.He went still in a way that felt wrong — like a predator realizing the forest had stopped responding

Juliette’s POV:The ground beneath me opened, a black, empty void. The sigils spun in furious patterns around the void, slicing the air with light that burned without warmth. The presence of the land pressed in from all sides, patient, absolute, like a tide of centuries waiting to erase me.“You are an error,” it said. A voice older than Rowan, older than Lucien, older than the first wolf to ever claim Blackridge. It did not care for identity, for memory, for love. It cared only for order.I could feel the Warrior tighten inside me, holding, shielding, bracing. My own voice had no power here. My mind, my flesh, my soul — the land ignored them all. It wanted only the axis to submit, to be remade, to become function, tool, structure.I had a choice: let it take me… or fight.I clawed inward. Not outward, not at the land, but at myself. I pulled at every shred of memory, every thread of attachment. Faces. Names. Pain. Love. Loss. History. Joy. Fear. Identity. I wrapped them around my s