All Chapters of Cruel Alpha’s Refuge: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Mason Three days had passed since we crossed the gates of Brown Stone. Three days during which my pack celebrated their freedom, buried the dead, and began planning the future. I, however, had not left this room for a single moment. The air in the healing house was heavy with the bitter scent of herbs and the suffocating presence of death. Corin lay motionless among the white sheets. If I had not seen the faint rise of her chest, I would have believed she was already gone. Her face had grown hollow, her skin almost translucent, as if the fire that lived inside her had not only consumed the enemy but also its own vessel. "Eat a little soup, Mason. If you collapse too, who will lead the pack?" Vanessa’s voice was gentle, but I could hear the suppressed sob hidden beneath it. She placed a bowl of steaming food on the small table beside me, but I could not even look at it. My throat tightened. "The pack knows what to do, Vanessa. Jax is handling everything," I answered hoa

Mason Time stood still in the healing house. The noise of the outside world, the cheers of the pack and the sounds of rebuilding, did not reach me. Only Corin’s uneven breathing and her constant shivering existed. It was around midnight when I realized the blankets were no longer enough. Her skin was no longer just cold, it had become almost waxy, and the pain had deepened the lines on her face. "I’m going to bathe her," I said quietly into the silence. Vanessa, who had been dozing in the corner, woke with a start. "Mason, she is too weak to sit." "Then I will hold her," I replied in a tone that allowed no argument. "Water gives steady warmth. Under the blankets she is only freezing in her own cold." I filled the bath with hot water, hot enough that the steam settled in the room like a thick white veil. I lifted Corin carefully from the bed, as if she were made of glass. Her weight… there was almost nothing left of it. Her head fell weakly onto my shoulder, her limbs h

Mason Two weeks had passed since the victory and the great announcement. Brown Stone had come back to life. The roofs of the houses were repaired, the steady rhythm of hammering echoed from the blacksmith’s forge, and training had resumed on the field under Jax’s command. But inside my own fortress, within the walls of our bedroom, a very different kind of war was raging. A war no alpha training had ever prepared me for. Morning did not begin with birds singing, but with a familiar desperate noise coming from the bathroom. I jumped out of bed immediately. Corin was kneeling on the cold floor, her hair stuck to her face with sweat, her body shaking as she retched. I stepped beside her and gently gathered her hair at the back of her neck while rubbing her back with my other hand. "I’m here, sweetheart. Just let it out," I whispered, even though my wolf inside wanted to tear down the walls from helplessness as it watched her suffer. When the sickness finally stopped, Corin

Mason The world dissolved into a red haze. Corin’s body grew heavy in my arms, and the river of blood spreading across the white stone painted the ceremonial platform like the floor of a slaughterhouse. The poison of the silver dagger was already visible. Dark purple veins began creeping around Corin’s wound, as if the darkness itself was trying to choke the life out of her. "Take Lyra to the dungeon!" I roared at the warriors. My voice was no longer human. My wolf howled with pure killing fury. "But do not touch her. I will kill her myself. Slowly." I lifted Corin into my arms and ran toward the healing house at a frantic sprint. The pack parted silently before me. Behind me I could hear only frightened whispers. Vanessa was already waiting in the doorway. Her face was as pale as a sheet, but her hands did not tremble. She was the only one who knew what to do. "Lay her down," she ordered. "Mason, hold her shoulders. This will hurt her." As the healers tried to clean the

Corin Two weeks had passed since the darkness had nearly swallowed me. Two weeks that, according to Mason, I had spent in a deep fevered coma while my soul intertwined with that of my child in a golden emptiness. In that strange in-between place I first felt the true strength of the little one. The child was my anchor, a small pulsing flame that refused to let the icy silver poison stop my heart forever. Now I stood on my own feet again. The wound at my side still pulled when I moved, and a faint silver scar marked the place of the attack, but life flowed through my body once more. More than life. The Aura Prima, which had once been wild and destructive, had calmed. It felt like a deep dark ocean whose surface was peaceful while immeasurable power slept in its depths. Mason was asleep. For the first time in days I had managed to convince him to lie down. But I could not rest. There was something I needed to finish before this chapter could finally close. I pulled a dar