All Chapters of Chained To An Enemy Alpha: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Zane By the time I reach the protected house, I can already smell the blood. Not from a distance. Not faintly. It’s right there in my nose, like a bad memory that never fades. Two warriors lie in the corridor—one motionless, the other groaning. I vault over them without stopping, because the bond yanks me forward as if a rope were wrapped around my ribs. The next thing I feel is Elariana. Her wolf. Her power. The white fury still vibrating in the air like the aftershock of a storm. And beside it… the scent of children. Panic. Tears. Fear. “Open it,” I growl at someone, and before my hand reaches the handle, the door is already swinging inward. Inside: wreckage. Blood. Broken furniture. Claw marks gouged into stone. And Elariana is on the floor, down on her knees. Not wolf. Human. With one arm she’s clutching a little girl to her chest, her other hand slick with blood as she tries to stop the bleeding, as if the whole world depends on how hard she can press. Julie is kn

Zane The first days after the attack were strange. Not because there was chaos. The pack recovered quickly. We repaired the walls, reinforced the gate, doubled the guard rotations. Most of the injured healed up, Lysa included—surprisingly fast. My warriors returned to their usual rhythm, as if it had only been a bad night. But what happened with Elariana… didn’t fit into any kind of “usual order.” My wolves didn’t forget. They didn’t want to. At first the healers were incredulous, then they started whispering. My betas tried to handle it calmly, but even on them I could see how hard it was to pretend nothing had fundamentally changed. The warriors who had been there—who had seen the moonlight—looked at her differently now. Not with pity. Not with curiosity. With respect. And that was visibly hard on Elariana. The very first time she went down to the great hall for breakfast and someone instinctively bowed to her, she froze mid-step, as if she’d been struck. “No,” s

Zane We don’t move right away. Elariana is still sitting on top of me, her hands on my wrists, her knees at my hips, close enough that I can smell her hair—that clean, faintly lavender scent that somehow stayed with her ever since the first time they properly washed her. Her heartbeat is fast. Mine pretends to be calm, but it doesn’t quite succeed. The moment is too quiet. Too long. “So… did you really give up?” she asks softly, as if she’s afraid that if she speaks louder, something will break. “I did,” I answer. “But only because you won unfairly.” “Me?” the corner of her mouth lifts. “You’re the Alpha. You’re the one with the advantage.” “Even an Alpha loses if he doesn’t want to win,” I say—and I can feel it myself now, that this isn’t entirely a joke anymore. She laughs, but only briefly. Then she tries to get off me, and with that movement, the playfulness returns, the lightness. Instinctively, I don’t let her. Not roughly.

Zane The training doesn’t stop where we left off—at least not technically. We move on from exercise to exercise, but I feel it almost immediately: today isn’t just about movement. The air is thicker. Not tense. Not dangerous. More like every breath matters. Elariana is attentive. Too attentive. When I imitate an attack, she doesn’t just block it—she also steps half a pace closer. When she changes direction, her shoulder nearly brushes my chest. Small things. Things that could be called accidents. Except neither of us steps back. “You’re faster now,” I remark. “You’re slower,” she shoots back, and there’s that playful edge in her voice I’m starting to recognize. I raise an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” “Try me.” I do. I attack—controlled, but more decisively—and she blocks, but at the last movement she misjudges the angle. Not by much. Just enough to bring us too close. My hand slides to her waist on reflex

Elariana Morning didn’t arrive with the familiar, sharp pain. It wasn’t Mara’s boots pounding through the silence, and it wasn’t the damp chill of stone biting into my skin. Here, deep inside Zane’s bedroom, time itself seemed to slow. Through the narrow gaps in the heavy, dark curtains, only thin, golden-dusted rays of light filtered in, dancing across the massive furniture and the soft rug. I lay on my back in the enormous bed and, for a moment, did nothing but fill my lungs with air. I no longer smelled mold and fear, but him—forest, rain, and something deeply masculine, powerful, that had somehow become synonymous with safety for me. Carefully, inch by inch, I turned onto my side, making sure the silky blanket didn’t whisper too loudly. Zane lay beside me, sunk deep into sleep. In this unguarded state, he looked different. The Alpha whose very name could freeze entire packs with fear was peaceful now. His face was relaxed, dark strands of hair falling into his