All Chapters of My little fierce mate: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

~•~•~•JAKE’S POVThe night was quiet, too quiet for a pack house that usually breathed with life. Even the wind outside seemed to move softer, afraid of waking the sleeping storm upstairs.I had just finished my rounds — made sure the borders were sealed, the guards posted, the reports stacked on my desk that I didn’t have the strength to read. Every time I blinked, I saw her face. The way her lips parted slightly when she slept. The way her hand had fallen over her stomach, protective even in her dreams.Ella.Moon above, she had no idea what she did to me.The moment I stepped into our room, the air changed. The lamps burned low, shadows curled around the walls, and there she was — lying on the bed, hair spilling across the pillow like a river of dark silk. Her breathing was even now, thank the goddess. The faintest glow of her aura pulsed under her skin, barely visible, but I could feel it. It brushed against my wolf like a whispered memory.Mara’s voice still echoed in my head.“

~•~•~•ANNA’S POVThe nights in Bloodstone always smelled of iron and pine.Thick. Cold. Restless.The kind of air that clung to your throat like a secret you couldn’t cough out.I sat by the window, staring into the dark forest stretching behind the packhouse, fingers tracing the lip of my glass absentmindedly. The wine had long gone warm, but I still held it — because I needed to hold something. Something that didn’t breathe, didn’t judge, didn’t whisper Ella’s name under its breath.The moon hung half-shorn above the trees, pale and mocking. I used to love nights like this — when the wind hummed and the wolves howled, when the world felt wide and alive. But lately, the sound of a howl grated on my nerves. It reminded me of her.White Cliff’s new wolf princess.I took a slow sip of the bitter wine. It didn’t burn enough.Everyone in Bloodstone was whispering about her — about the wolf that rose from the ashes of a rejection. About how she’d awakened her power under the Alpha of Whit

~•~•~•~•THE PALE MAN’S POVThe silence that followed her awakening was not the kind that comforted — it was the kind that devoured.The kind that hums with divinity and dread.The air still pulsed with her name.Liora.It trembled in my chest, in the cracks of the walls, in the marrow of the world itself.I could taste her return — the iron, the light, the grief.The chamber had always been dark, but now that she’d risen, it felt emptier.As if her very breath had been the last tether keeping this underworld alive, and now that she’d walked out, the place had exhaled centuries of waiting.And yet… gods, she was awake.My Liora was awake.After eons of hollow moons, of tracing her name in dust and blood, of guarding her corpse as if faith itself depended on it — she lived.I should have followed her.But my knees wouldn’t move. My hands were trembling too violently. My heart… my heart felt like it was cracking open under the weight of joy and terror.Because I knew what her awakening

JAKE’S POVMorning cracks open like a wound.The forest edge smells of iron. Cold, thick, wrong.There’s frost on the grass and something else—something wet that glistens too dark to be dew.I stand there, jaw tight, coat half-buttoned, heart running before my thoughts can catch up. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet. It’s still that gray hour where light feels half-dead, like it’s too afraid to touch the world.And right at the border of the pines lies what used to be a wolf.Not one of ours. At least, I don’t think so. But gods, the smell.Raw meat and old fear.The carcass is torn open from the ribs, half-eaten in a way that makes no sense. Wolves don’t eat their own kind. And whatever did this—it wasn’t for hunger. No, this was rage.I crouch beside it, my breath fogging against the cold. The fur’s still warm.“Jake,” someone calls behind me. I don’t turn. I know that voice. Micah.He’s young, still thinks monsters are bedtime stories.Still believes in the Alpha’s laws more than he b

•~•JAKE’S POVThere are mornings that start like whispers, and there are mornings that split the earth in half.This one—This one came with a scar.The smoke from the woods hadn’t fully cleared when I left the council room.The scent of iron clung to my hands, no matter how many times I washed them.Blood. Burnt fur. Fear.But it wasn’t just the dead wolf that had my pulse crawling.It was her.Ella.She’d sat in my chair like she’d been born there.No apology. No hesitation.Just the quiet authority of someone who had stopped asking permission to exist.And I swear to the Moon, the room had listened to her.Even the air.She didn’t tell me what she dreamed about last night, but she didn’t need to.Something in her eyes had changed—Like she’d seen something vast, and instead of flinching, she made it kneel.That’s what terrified me.Not her anger.Not her wolf.Not even the power humming off her skin like heat.It was her calm.Calm like someone who’d accepted a war she knew she’d