Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha’s Frozen Heart: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

Rowan  Darkness. Not the kind that comes when you close your eyes, but a thick, sticky tar that swallowed sound and thought alike. For days, or maybe weeks, I no longer knew, I wandered through that endless emptiness. My wolf, who usually howled for freedom, now crouched quietly and wounded in a distant corner of my soul. Then I sensed the scent. Not the metallic smell of blood. Not the damp stench of death that had poured from Silas’s throat in his final moment. This was something else. Fresh like morning frost, sweet like wildflowers hidden beneath snow. Caroline. My awareness began to seep back into my body, slowly, painfully. Every part of me burned. I felt the cuts on my back, the ache in my ribs, and the dull, throbbing pain in my head that reminded me of itself with every heartbeat. But the weight on my shoulder was not pain. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred, the corners of the room melting into twilight, but the glow of the emb

Rowan  The stones of the corridor beneath our feet seemed to echo every beat of my heart. As I walked between Marcus and Elias, the air froze around us. Not because of the storm outside, which had already settled into an ominous white silence, but because of the power pouring out of me. This power felt чужд, not like my own strength that I had shaped and restrained over years. This was raw, ancient, and hungry. It was Silas’s power, torn from him in death, stretching my skin as if a foreign beast were trying to break out of my chest. Marcus, who had been the pack’s fist under Silas, now walked half a step behind me. I heard the heavy thud of his boots and felt his gaze on the back of my neck. There was no hatred in it, only cold expectation. “They’re in the great hall,” Elias said quietly. He was the pack’s chronicler, the keeper of knowledge, and his voice trembled slightly. “They don’t know what to expect. Many still don’t believe Silas is really gone.

Rowan  The dawn sky looked like an open wound, red and pulsing above the distant mountain peaks. The cold no longer just bit at my skin. It sank deeper, straight into my bones, into the place where Silas’s legacy lived, that cursed, frozen Alpha power. As we stepped out through the main gate, the pack followed my tracks in the freshly fallen snow without a sound. There was only the soft thud of paws and the heavy clouds of breath that froze instantly in the air. Caroline walked beside me. Marcus had given her a heavy cloak lined with wolf fur, almost swallowing her fragile frame, but her eyes, those stubborn, burning blue eyes, were brighter than ever. I felt the bond between us. It was no longer a painful pull, but a tight, vibrating energy. Caroline was not afraid. Or if she was, she had buried it so deep that even I could not reach it. “Rowan,” she said softly when we reached the dense pine forest. Her voice broke the steady rhythm of the march. “I ca

Caroline  The darkness was not complete. There was something pulsing in it, an unnatural dim glow that reminded me of frozen flesh. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was not fear, but pain. My head throbbed as if a burning iron rod had been driven straight through my skull, and the old scar on my forehead, the lasting mark of Rowan’s sin, burned as if it had just been cut into my skin. I tried to move, but my wrists were bound in heavy, icy chains. The metal was not just cold. It bit. I felt the frost cling to my skin, tearing away a small piece of me with every movement. “Rowan,” I whispered, and my voice died against the hard walls of the cave. There was no answer. That calming electric tension I always felt when he was near was gone. In its place there was only emptiness. A black, yawning void where the strange, painful yet sweet bond had once pulsed. That absence hurt more than the chains. I remembered the house. The blood on

Caroline  The vibrating darkness deep within the cave suddenly shuddered. The chanting, which until then had sliced through my mind like smooth, icy blades, faltered. The witches all jerked their heads up at once, the hollow eye sockets hidden beneath their masks turning toward the entrance. What came from outside was not merely noise, but the mountain’s wrath itself. A thunderous impact shook the rock, as if a giant were trying to tear the mouth of the cave apart with bare hands. The lead witch’s hand, which had been grinding into the scar on my forehead, trembled. The scent of fear—that sharp, sour stench—overpowered the ozone reek of magic. “That’s impossible…” the creature hissed, and for the first time her voice lacked confidence. “He can’t be here yet. The ice wall should be holding!” But her focus wavered. The torture that had pinned me to the ground loosened for a single second. And that single second was enough. The bond, which