Semua Bab Rejected Mate: Rise of the Lycan Princess : Bab 121 - Bab 130

Eric POV The Frostbite war hall had never held this many leaders at once. The long chamber ...... usually reserved for pack gatherings and strategy meetingsl ..... was now packed with warriors, alphas, and royal guards. Torches burned along the stone walls, their flames casting restless shadows across the room. At the center stood the great table. A massive map of the northern territories stretched across its surface, marked with ink circles, knives, and wooden markers representing patrol routes, suspected rogue movement, and allied pack positions. But none of it told us where Damon was. None of it told us where Cora was. I stood at the head of the table, staring down at the map. Cain stood to my right, arms crossed tightly over his chest, tension practically radiating off him. Anton stood opposite us, leaning over the map with a marker in hand, adding yet another scouting route that had already come back empty. “North ridge patrol returned an hour ago,” Anton said

Cora's POV The convoy slowed long before we reached the gates. I noticed it immediately. The engines around me .... heavy armored SUVs and trucks filled with rogues ...... dropped from a steady roar to a slow crawl. Tires crunched over gravel as the vehicles lined up along a winding mountain road. Through the tinted window beside me, the landscape stretched into jagged cliffs and dense forest. The location was remote. Isolated. Hidden. Exactly the kind of place someone like Damon would choose. My wrists burned where the silver cuffs pressed against my skin, dulling my wolf and keeping my strength restrained. The metal chain between them rattled slightly each time the vehicle shifted over uneven ground. Across from me, Damon sat comfortably like this was just another ordinary journey. Relaxed. In control. His gaze drifted outside the window as we approached the ridge ahead, like he was admiring the view. I refused to look at him. Instead I studied everything else. How m

Cora's POV The cell was quiet. At first, it felt like relief. A brief respite from the constant noise of guards, the clatter of training grounds, and the endless presence of Damon. But as I sat on the narrow cot, the silence pressed against me. My wolf stirred beneath the silver cuffs, restless, frustrated. Power held in check. Strength restrained. The chains rattled softly whenever I shifted, reminding me of my limits but also sharpening my focus. I studied everything. Damon let me out once in a while,my hands still bound but I was allowed to walk freely. Escorted by two guards of course. But that was enough for me to observe. The room I was put in itself was sparse: stone walls, a single window looking out over the capital, and a desk Damon had allowed to remain. Even here, he had left his mark. The scent clung to everything ..... the subtle musk of dominance, the faint trace of leather and metal, the sharp tang of his bloodline. My senses itched with awareness, my wolf

Damon's POV The capital woke before the sun. From the balcony outside my office, I watched the valley stir into motion. The sky was still a deep slate blue, the mountains framing the horizon like jagged teeth, but the training fields below were already alive. Lines of rogues ran in formation across the packed earth. Warriors sparred in controlled circles, claws striking, bodies slamming into the ground with disciplined precision. Instructors barked commands from raised platforms while squads rotated through drills with mechanical efficiency. Years ago, rogues had been chaos. Packless wolves wandering the wilderness. Hungry. Angry. Lost. Now they moved like soldiers. Purpose reshaped wolves faster than fear ever could. I rested my hands on the steel railing and studied the valley below. Watchtowers stood along the surrounding cliffs, each one armed and manned by snipers. Patrol units moved along the interior roads. Supply vehicles rolled through the lower districts toward t

Cora's POV The tray sat untouched in front of me. Steam curled faintly from the bowl of oatmeal, already cooling in the quiet room. A slice of toast leaned against the side of the plate, and a glass of water reflected the pale morning light spilling through the tall window. I stared at the food like it had personally offended me. My hands were still bound. Silver cuffs wrapped around my wrists, chained just short enough that I could move them in front of me, but not far enough to be comfortable. Every small motion scraped the metal against my skin. Damon had insisted on keeping them on. For safety. The thought made my jaw tighten. Eating with bound hands was a miserable process. The spoon slipped between my fingers twice already, clattering against the tray with a dull sound that echoed far too loudly in the quiet room. My wolf stirred inside me, irritated. Not just by the restraints. By everything. This room. This city. The constant feeling of being watched. I forced