All Chapters of Vying For The Alpha's Heart: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

102 Chapters

THE SACRIFICE

The drums pounded a rhythm that felt like a headache made of sound. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.On the edge of the dance floor, far from the Alpha’s dais, Beta Kael was trapped in his own personal hell."Dance with me, husband," Holly cooed, pulling on his arm.Kael resisted, his boots planting firmly on the stone. "I am on duty, Holly. The crowd is too thick. Security is compromised.""Oh, hush," Holly giggled and draped her arms around his neck, forcing him to sway with her. She was radiant in a gown of pale cream, her hands resting conspicuously on her flat stomach. "You worry too much. Look at them! Everyone is happy. We should be happy too."She pressed her body against his rigid armor."I was thinking about the nursery today," Holly rambled loud enough to be heard over the music. "Blu drapes, I think. To match your eyes. And a cradle of oak. Nothing but the best for the future Beta."Kael looked over her head. He felt like he was suffocating in rosewater."And the wedding," Holly continue

THE RAGE OF THE ALPHA

While the drums were still beating in the courtyard, a different kind of trouble was raging in the castle gardens.Beta Kael tore through the hedges, his chest beating rapidly. He had ripped open the collar of his dress uniform, unable to stand the restriction around his throat. He scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, over and over, trying to wipe away the taste of Holly’s lipstick, the taste of her lie."Lyra!" he shouted horsely. "Lyra, answer me!"He checked the gazebo. Empty. He checked the old fountain. Empty.Panic tore at his gut. She left. She actually left.He turned a corner near the aviary, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel. He stopped.A soft chirp-chirp sound cut through the distant thrum of the festival drums.She was there.Lyra was squatting near a patch of moon-lilies with her skirts pooled around her in the dirt. She was holding out a handful of seeds, surrounded by a small flock of nightingales. She looked so small. So quiet.Kael let out a breath th

THE BLOODIED INFIRMARY

The Pack Infirmary was usually a place of quiet healing, smelling of dried sage, lemon balm, and clean linens.Tonight, it smelled of iron.The copper tang of fresh blood permeated the air, choking out the herbs. The white sheets of the examination table were stained a deep, spreading red that looked black in the dim light of the oil lamps.Eltonia lay in the center of the chaos.The blue dress she had worn to the festival, the dress Oreon had danced with, was ruined. It had been cut away at the shoulder, revealing the ugly, puckered wound where the crossbow bolt had struck.The bolt was gone, removed by the Pack Healer’s steady hands, but the damage remained.Black veins were spiderwebbing out from the puncture wound, crawling up her neck and down her arm like ink spilled on parchment."Stay with me, 'Tonia," Lyra whispered, her voice tight and high. "Don't you dare close your eyes. If you fall asleep, I’m telling Matron Henga you stole the extra cinnamon."Lyra sat on a stool by the

THE BARGAIN

The dungeon of Ashwood Castle was a place where hope went to die.It was located beneath the water table, the stone walls perpetually slick with condensation. The air smelled of mold, rust, and old fear.Untha sat on the solitary wooden bench in the deepest cell. Heavy iron shackles bound her wrists and ankles, chained to the wall. She was bruised, her lip split, and her grey cloak was torn to shreds. She looked small. Defeated.But her eyes, glowing with that toxic green light, were still alert.The heavy door at the end of the corridor groaned open.Footsteps approached. Heavy, uneven steps.Gamma Kornel stepped into the torchlight.He looked worse than she did. His lip was swollen where Oreon had struck him. His uniform was stained with blood—some his, some Eltonia’s. He limped slightly, favoring his right leg.He stopped in front of the bars. He didn't have the keys. He just had his rage and his heartbreak."You took the shot," Kornel whispered. The sound was amplified by the damp

THE UNCLE’S FALL

Abram sat in his high-backed armchair with a glass of amber brandy warming in his hand. The fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth, illuminating his private library. He looked for all the world like a man enjoying a quiet evening after a long day of "serving" the realm.He looked up as the door exploded inward, as splinters of oak rained down onto his expensive Persian rug.Oreon stood in the wreckage of the doorframe. He was panting, and his tunic was soaked with the blood of the woman he cherished. His eyes were not the eyes of a nephew looking at his uncle. They were the eyes of a wolf looking at a disease."Oreon?" Abram gasped, standing up so quickly his brandy sloshed over the rim. "My boy! What is the meaning of this? Has there been an attack?""The book," Oreon snarled as he stepped into the room."Book?" Abram blinked, feigning utter confusion. "What book? You are covered in blood! Are you hurt? Is it... is it the girl?""Don't say her name," Oreon warned with a growl.He cro

THE BLOOD MOON RISES

Three days had passed since the antidote was administered. Three days of silence. Three days of holding breath.The infirmary had become Oreon’s world. He did not go to the study. He did not go to the training ring. He existed within the four stone walls that smelled of sickness and sage.He sat in the wooden chair beside the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped tight.Eltonia lay still. The colour of fever was gone, and what was left was a terrifying pallor. Her chest rose and fell in a slow, shallow rhythm that Oreon watched with the intensity of a hawk. Every breath felt like a victory; every pause felt like a heart attack."You are taking too long, mouse," Oreon whispered, raspy from disuse.He reached out. He took a warm cloth from the basin on the bedside table. Gently, reverently, he wiped her face. He cleaned the corners of her eyes, the curve of her jaw.He wasn't the Alpha here. He was just a man terrified of being left behind."The pack is asking for you

THE RECOVERY & THE REMINDER

The morning sun streamed through the high windows of the infirmary, turning the dust motes into dancing gold.It had been twenty-four hours since the antidote had done its work. The black veins on Eltonia’s neck had faded to bruising shadows. Her breathing was no longer a rattle, but had softened into a rhythmic sigh.Oreon sat on the edge of the bed. He hadn't shaved in four days. His black tunic was wrinkled. He looked like a man who had walked through a hurricane, but his hands, holding a small bowl of bone broth, were steady."Open," Oreon murmured.Eltonia fluttered her eyelashes against her pale cheeks. She felt heavy, as if her limbs were made of lead, but the pain in her shoulder had dulled to a throbbing ache."I can hold the spoon, Alpha," she whispered, raspily."No," Oreon said simply. "You cannot. Your arm is bound. And I am enjoying this."He lifted the spoon to her lips. She opened her mouth, swallowing the warm, salty broth. It tasted like life."You have been here...

THE WEDDING OF LIES

The Great Hall of Ashwood Castle had been transformed into a garden of winter.Thousands of white roses—hothouse grown, imported at great expense by Abram—flowed from the rafters, wrapped around the pillars, and smothered the altar. The scent was overpowering. It was thick, sweet, and suffocating enough to hide the stubborn smell of old history.To the nobles gathering in the pews, it looked like a fairytale.To Beta Kael, standing at the altar, it looked like a tomb.He wore his formal dress uniform; white tunic with gold embroidery, a heavy velvet cape, and his sword at his hip. He stood at attention, his posture perfect, his face unmoving.But inside, he was screaming.

THE SPIDER’S LAST BITE

The Great Hall was suspended in a fragile silence.The priest had stopped chanting. The musicians had stopped playing.In the center of the aisle, Beta Kael and Lyra knelt facing each other with their hands tangled over the fallen wedding ring. They weren't moving. They weren't breathing. They were just staring, like two planets caught in a gravitational pull that threatened to tear the roof off the castle."Kael!" Holly’s voice cracked like a whip from the altar.She stood alone under the arch of white roses. Her face held incredulous fury. Her groom—her husband-to-be—was on his knees in the dirt, worshiping a kitchen maid while she stood waiting to be crowned."Pick up the ring!" Holly shrieked, her poise shattering. "Pick it up and get back here!"Kael blinked. The spell broke, but the reality didn't change. He looked at Lyra’s tear-filled eyes one last time, then slowly reached down to grasp the heavy gold band.He stood up. He helped Lyra to her feet. He didn't let go of her hand

THE FALSE HEIR

The heavy brass candelabra sliced through the air with a terrifying whoosh.Lyra didn't freeze. Years of dodging hot pans and flying turnips in the kitchen had given her reflexes that rivaled a warrior’s. She ducked, so the heavy brass missed her head by inches."You missed, Your Highness!" Lyra shouted, adrenaline spiking through her veins."Stand still so I can kill you!" Holly shrieked and swung the weapon back for a backhand strike. Her face was twisted, her makeup running and her perfect bridal hair untangling into a bird's nest.Lyra lunged. She wasn't a soldier, but she was a scrapper. She grabbed the shaft of the candelabra, wrestling for control."You are insane!" Lyra grunted, digging her heels into the white runner. "Let go!""You stole him!" Holly screamed and kicked out at Lyra’s shins with her silk slippers. "He was mine! The legacy was mine! You dirty, low-born rat!""I didn't steal him!" Lyra yelled back, shoving Holly. "You lost him the moment you decided to be a mons

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