บททั้งหมดของ Alpha Step Daddy : Four Mates, One heart: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

MEREK I have walked these woods for a while. I have watched the trees grow, seen the mountains bleed under the sun, and felt the iron fog of Blackridge settle into the bones of every man who called this place home. I was supposed to be a memory. A guardian spirit bound to a bloodline that had forgotten I existed. Until Raven. She was the first one to truly see me in years. Not just as a flicker in the corner of her eye, but as a man. Or what was left of one. "You're late," Raven said. She was standing in the center of the clearing, her arms crossed. The morning light filtered through the canopy, catching the amber in her eyes. She looked tired and There were faint blue shadows under her eyes, a testament to the weight of the three other men pulling at her soul. "I have been here for an hour," I said. My voice sounded like gravel grinding against stone. "You simply weren't looking." She huffed. "Right. The ghost thing. I forgot." "I am not a ghost," I corrected, stepping out

COLE The smell of the Blackridge Ice Arena never changed. It was a mix of floor wax, stale popcorn, and the sharp, metallic bite of frozen water. To most people, it was a cold, cavernous place. To me, it was home. It was the only place where the world made sense. On the ice, there were rules. There was a clock. There was a puck. Everything else—the Silverfang betrayal, the shifting, the fact that I was falling for my target—disappeared the moment my blades hit the surface. I stood in the center of the rink, the overhead lights humming. Around me, the tension was thick enough to choke a wolf. On one side stood the Iron Howlers. They looked like they’d rather be brawling in a bar than wearing skates. Jax was currently struggling with his laces, looking like he wanted to rip the leather apart with his teeth. Dominic stood by the bench, his arms crossed, his gaze a permanent scowl. On the other side were the rogues. Merek’s people. They were silent, eerie, and moved with a grace that

DOMINIC My leg didn't scream anymore. It just hummed. It was a dull, low-frequency ache that reminded me I was mortal, even if my wolf thought otherwise. I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in my quarters, pulling on a fresh black button-down. My movements were fluid again. The silver poisoning Jax had neutralized was finally out of my system, leaving behind only the faint, jagged scar on my thigh. I looked at my reflection. The grey at my temples seemed a little more prominent. The lines around my eyes were deeper. Being an Alpha was a weight; being a mate to a girl like Raven was a revolution. "You’re thinking too loud, Steele." I turned. Raven was leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing a soft, oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder, exposing the pale skin I wanted to mark a thousand times over. She looked soft, but her eyes—those amber, hybrid eyes—were sharp. "I have a pack to fix," I said, tucking my shirt into my jeans. "The meeting starts in ten mi

MEREK The air tonight didn't just bite. It whispered. I stood on the shore of Blackridge Lake, a place where the water was so deep it swallowed the light of the stars. The ice fog was thick, rolling off the surface in grey ribbons that obscured the pines. To the humans in town, this was just a scenic spot for a summer swim. To me, it was a thin place—a spot where the veil between the living and the dead was as fragile as a spider’s web. Behind me, the rogues gathered. My people. The twelve wolves who had survived the shadows for too long. They stood in a circle, their faces pale in the moonlight, their eyes reflecting the ancient fear of being lost. "The bond tonight is not just of leather and law," I said. My voice carried across the water, amplified by the spirits that watched us from the trees. "It is a bond of spirit. We anchor ourselves to the Iron Howlers. We anchor ourselves to the hybrid who carries the ice." Raven stood at the center of the circle. She was wearing a thick

JAX The training yard smelled like wet earth and anticipation. I stood in the center of the gravel pit, my boots anchored deep. Rain—the kind of cold, persistent drizzle that defined Blackridge slicked my leather vest and turned my hair into a wet mess. I didn't care. I lived for the grind. Twelve rogues stood before me. They were Merek’s people, but today, they were mine. They moved but they lacked the discipline of a pack. They were used to surviving; I was teaching them how to win. "Again!" I barked. "If you’re too slow to shift your weight, you’re too slow to keep your head." The rogues were sparring in pairs. They were fast—supernaturally fast but they were sloppy. They relied on instinct alone, and in a war against the Silverfangs, instinct wasn't enough. You needed a strategy. You needed to be the one that thought three steps ahead. "Kaelen, drop your shoulder," I ordered. "Elias, watch your flank." Elias was a younger rogue, maybe twenty, with red hair and eyes that al