Semua Bab The Lycan king's Secret Triplets: I Ran From My Mate and Hid: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The fortress never truly sleeps.Even after the Purge scouts retreated, a cold unease lingered in the corridors, in the shadows, in the very stones. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, senses sharp, muscles coiled. The triplets' pulses thrummed in sync with my heartbeat, small but insistent, warning me that something—or someone—was dangerously close.Ronan's presence beside me was steady, warm, protective, and… possessive. Every glance, every brush of skin against mine reminded me that I was his. That the bond we shared, amplified by the children, was stronger than fear or betrayal.But tonight, the fortress itself would betray us.I sensed it first—a subtle flicker of magic, out of rhythm with the runes in the walls, like a heartbeat that didn't belong. My wolf growled low, claws flexing beneath my skin. "Someone's inside," I whispered, voice tight with tension. "Not one of the Purge… someone we trusted."Ronan's golden eyes narrowed. "I felt it too. Stay close."We moved silently, shad

The council chamber had never felt so small.Every seat was filled—Alpha wolves, Lycan generals, elders from allied packs, and emissaries who had traveled through the night after the Purge attack shook the realm. The air was thick with tension, curiosity, and fear.All of it focused on me.I stood beside Ronan at the center of the chamber, his presence a solid wall at my back. One hand rested possessively at my waist, the other openly placed over my stomach, unapologetic. A statement. A warning.Mine.The triplets stirred gently, their energy calm but alert, as if they understood this moment mattered.An elder stepped forward—Elder Maerith, keeper of ancient laws and forbidden texts. Her silver hair was braided with runes that glowed faintly as she unrolled a scroll so old it looked like it might turn to dust."The prophecy was never incomplete," she said gravely. "It was sealed."Murmurs rippled through the chamber.Ronan's jaw tightened. "Sealed by whom?""By the first Lycan King,"

The bond screamed.I woke gasping, clutching my stomach as pain—sharp and foreign—ripped through me. Not labor. Not fear.Loss.Ronan was already moving, power flaring as he sat upright beside me. "Aria—what is it?""They took someone," I choked. "The bond—something snapped. Someone close."Before he could respond, the doors burst open.A guard stumbled in, bloodied, eyes wide with terror. "My King," he panted. "They took Elin. From the lower wards. No alarm—no trace—just shadow."Elin.My healer. The woman who had stayed when others whispered. Who had sung softly when the triplets kicked too hard, grounding me when my control slipped."No," I whispered.The triplets reacted instantly.The second—my fire—flared hot and furious. Heat poured through my veins, wild and uncontrollable. The third—my quiet one—pressed down hard, heavy and still, forcing my breath to slow.And the first?The first went silent.Too silent.Ronan felt it too. His jaw clenched. "One of them just… disappeared fr

The fortress did not recover from Malrik's visit.It shifted.Guards doubled. Allies whispered in corridors instead of speaking openly. Some pack banners that had flown proudly in the courtyard at dawn were gone by nightfall.They had left without pledging loyalty.Ronan said nothing about it.But I felt the tension in him like a drawn blade.Tonight, he stood before the war map in the strategy chamber, bare forearms braced against the stone table, jaw tight. Candlelight flickered across the scars on his skin—new and old. The Rite of Ash and Fang still pulsed faintly beneath his veins, ancient symbols glowing like embers."You don't trust him," Ronan said without turning."No," I answered honestly. "But I don't think he lied."Silence stretched between us."That's worse," he muttered.I stepped closer, resting my palm over my stomach. The triplets were unusually still tonight.Listening."I need to see the sealed archives," I said.Ronan turned sharply. "Those texts were locked by the

Morning arrived heavy and gray over the fortress.The courtyard still smelled faintly of blood and smoke from the Stone Ridge rebellion. Though the fires had been extinguished and the bodies removed before dawn, the tension remained—thick in the air like a storm refusing to break.Aria stood by the tall window of Ronan’s private chamber, watching the mist roll across the training fields below.Her hand rested over her stomach.The triplets were quiet today.Not sleeping.Listening.Behind her, Ronan fastened the leather bracer around his forearm. The movement was sharp, restless. He had barely slept.“Three packs have requested council today,” he said.Aria turned slowly. “Let me guess. They want reassurance.”“They want certainty,” Ronan corrected grimly.“And you can’t give it.”His golden eyes flickered toward her.“No king can promise certainty when prophecy enters the room.”Silence stretched between them.Then the first triplet stirred suddenly.The watcher returns.Aria’s head