All Chapters of Cruel Alpha’s Refuge: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Corin This time my consciousness did not return with a painful jolt. It came back slowly, like morning fog that drifts reluctantly across the land. There was no ice bath. No burning acid on my back. Only silence. A deep and heavy silence I had almost forgotten could exist. I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was not as blurry as before, though the light still hurt my pupils. Above me I saw a massive ceiling with wooden beams. The walls of the room were made of dark stone and heavy oak, and the air carried the scent of pine smoke mixed with a sharp, clean smell of herbs. I tried to move, but my body immediately reminded me of its limits. My right arm was wrapped in bandages from shoulder to wrist and rested on a thick support at my side. I could not feel my fingers, only a dull throbbing heat that seemed to come from my bones. My back did not burn the same way anymore. The skin felt tight from the thick ointment covering it, but the hellish poisonous fire that Glacier’s cream ha

Corin The next morning began with a soft knock. The curtains had already been pulled aside by a silent servant, so the room was filled with the pale strength of winter sunlight. Not long after, the door opened again, but this time I did not hear Mason’s heavy steps. A thinner, more uncertain figure appeared in the doorway. “Corin?” At the sound of her voice, tears began to pulse in my throat. It was my mother. She looked much better than on the night we fled. Her hair had been washed and tied back. She wore a clean, soft wool dress, and although her face was still pale, it no longer showed that deadly exhaustion. “Mother!” I tried to sit up, but my back protested immediately. She hurried to the bed and hugged me as carefully as if I were made of porcelain. For several minutes we said nothing, only held onto each other. I could smell unfamiliar soap on her skin, and the relief pouring out of her felt like warmth. “You are alive. Thank God you are alive,” she whispered int

Corin After breakfast, which Mason watched almost until the very last bite, something unusual was brought into the room. It was a heavy wheelchair made of dark wood, lined with soft furs. “Your legs cannot handle such a long walk yet,” Mason said in a tone that allowed no argument. “But you need fresh air. These walls will slowly turn into a prison.” He carefully lifted me from the bed into the chair. His movements were still as gentle as if he were moving a fragile glass statue, yet I could feel the steady calm strength radiating from him. Over my white shirt he placed a thick wool cloak, then we set off. The Brown Stone stronghold was impressive even from the inside. High arches stretched overhead, torches lined the stone walls, and raw power seemed to live in every block of rock. As Mason pushed me through the corridors, I felt the eyes on us. Pack members paused in their daily tasks and stared. There was no open cruel mockery

Corin A week had passed since Mason revealed the truth about the second chance. That week dimmed every memory that had come before it. My body healed in a way that felt almost miraculous. Mason’s healer, a quiet but skilled man, said that the closeness of the bond and the Alpha’s dominant presence had awakened my wolf’s instinct to heal itself. I no longer needed help to walk. Though my right arm still rested stiff in a firm bandage against my chest, my legs carried me steadily across the stone floor. One morning, while Mason was inspecting the border patrols, my nose led me down to the lowest level of the pack house. The smell of fresh bread, roasted onions, and spiced meat filled the cool corridors. In Silver Stone, the kitchen had been the only place where I felt safe. There I understood my purpose. There life had rhythm, even if I had been nothing more than a servant. I pushed open the massive iron bound oak door. The kitchen

Corin Two weeks had passed since the envoys’ visit. Those fourteen days unfolded under the heavy stillness that comes before a storm in the Brown Stone stronghold. The brace was finally removed from my right arm. The pale marks of wolf teeth still traced my skin, but the bone had fused, and thanks to Mason’s healer and my own wolf’s stubborn life force, my muscles regained their strength and flexibility. The scars on my back no longer pulled. Every evening Mason personally applied the ointment to them. His movements were skilled and precise, yet beneath them pulsed a deep possessive gentleness that stole my breath each time. Today was the first day. Training day. Dawn had only just drawn a gray line across the horizon when Mason and I stepped onto the secluded training ground behind the pack house. The air was sharp with cold, frost glittering across the grass. I wore simple fitted black trousers and a sleeveless cot