Semua Bab Chained To An Enemy Alpha: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The first thing I feel in the morning is the cold stone floor under my skin and the sour smell of mold. We omegas sleep in the hole they call a storage room—twelve cots, too many bodies, too few blankets. My blanket is as stiff as cardboard. My hair is matted with sweat and ash, and the skin around my wrist is red where the iron clasp rubs. I sit up. Pain flashes through my ankle; I fell during training yesterday because someone shoved me. I didn’t look back, didn’t ask why—I just got up and kept running. That’s how things work here. “Get up, snow-chick.” Mara, the female supervisor of the storeroom, kicks my bed. She isn’t an omega, but she has no real rank in the pack. That’s where she gets her power—from us, the ones she can control. “The kitchen’s on fire. Kian wants breakfast. And the guests are coming today.” My stomach tightens at the name. Kian. The Alpha’s son. The smile that isn’t a smile, only teeth. The voice that sounds smooth but can turn into a slap or a kick at t

Dawn’s light hasn’t yet reached the base of Blackrock when I wake. Between the walls the cold bites to the bone again, and in the storeroom everyone tries to steal one more minute from nothing without moving. I can’t sleep. My body hurts, my thoughts tick, and some deep, instinctive warning won’t let me rest. Outside, the pack is already stirring in the corridors. I hear the thud of boots, the orders, the metallic ring of weapons. The Red Moon men are still here. The wolves smell the foreign scent and grow edgy from it—as if every breath reminds them that someone stronger walks among them. I get up and try to smooth my hair, but half of it comes out in the comb. One girl whispers to me: “Better not draw Mara’s attention today. Kian was in a biting mood yesterday.” “He always is,” I answer softly, and head to the washroom. The water is ice-cold; my hands turn blue in it. But the cold wakes me. Gooseflesh runs along my skin, my breathing evens out. My body isn’t mine anymore

I thought pain had a limit. But when Zane carried me out of the great hall and the cold wind touched my skin, I realized it wasn’t my body that hurt — it was what remained inside it. His arms were strong, his movements steady, but his presence was too much for me. Every nerve in me was drawn tight, every breath trembled. My body waited for the blow. For the silence to break again. For Kian’s laughter to echo in my ears. But Zane said nothing. He just carried me. Down the corridor, the Red Moon wolves followed in silence, their eyes filled with a mix of respect and shock. The whole keep had seen what happened. Had seen how he tore Kian’s ritual apart with a single command. The pack still whispered fearfully about it. The room he brought me to was surrounded by thick stone walls. It wasn’t my cell, nor the stable where I slept. This… was something else. A guest room. A place where the light didn’t punish — it illuminated. He set me down on the bed and stepped back.

The sun had long since slipped behind the distant ridge, and darkness thickened so slowly above the trees that it felt as if the night itself approached with caution, afraid to descend too suddenly upon the forest. The air was cool, slightly misty, filled with the earth-scent of wet leaves and the heavy aroma of pine resin. When Zane’s men finally stopped, it was as though a single collective breath escaped the group—a breath that said their bodies could keep going, but their nerves were already in shreds.The treetops met above us, forming a dense, black canopy hanging over the camp like a massive, menacing hand waiting to strike when we least expected it.Before nightfall, Zane had motioned for two soldiers. His voice wasn’t loud, but the strength behind it pushed everyone into motion.“Set up a separate tent for her. Further away… but close enough that I can reach her if needed.”Tension hid beneath the forced patience in his tone. The soldiers didn’t ask why. They knew the separat

Night had long since settled completely over the camp, a darkness so dense it swallowed even the faint light filtering between the treetops. The fire had burned down to embers; only a few glowing coals flickered weakly in the ash, as if the forest itself wanted to lull them to sleep. The men were sunk in deep rest, only the occasional sound of a sentry shifting breaking the stillness.I, however, lay awake in my tent.My body wanted rest, but my mind was still circling the image of the girl by the fire: her trembling fingers, the silent tears, the way she ate without sound. And the word my wolf had whispered kept echoing inside me:Lyra.My beloved.The one who flinches even when I draw breath near her.Sleep was just beginning to claim me when I heard it.It wasn’t loud.It wasn’t a scream.It wasn’t a cry for help.It was a thin, weak whimper. The kind only someone hears who is listening for it. Or who is paying far too close attention.My body tensed instantly. My wolf snapped to a