Semua Bab Rejected Mate: Rise of the Lycan Princess : Bab 81 - Bab 90

Cora's POV The sun had just begun to dip below the jagged peaks surrounding Frostbite, throwing long shadows across the training yard. My boots crunched softly against the frozen ground, but my mind was louder than anything outside. My heartbeat hammered in my ears, echoing the remnants of yesterday’s chaos, the kiss, the unbidden jealousy, and Eric’s cold silence. I thought I had processed it, thought I could face Cain without flipping. I was wrong. He was waiting near the edge of the forest that bordered the yard, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders squared. He didn’t look angry at first glance, only tense ..... but tension radiated off him like heat from a forge. His dark eyes found mine, piercing and raw, and my chest constricted. “Cora,” Cain said, voice low, measured, yet carrying an edge I couldn’t ignore. “We need to talk.” I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to walk away, to avoid this confrontation, but something in his expression ..... a mix of shame

Cora's POV The first pale light crept over the mountain ridges, turning the snowfields silver. Frostbite pack territory always looked peaceful in the early morning, as if the world held its breath before the day began. Smoke curled from chimneys. Wolves patrolled the perimeter in calm, steady patterns. The cold air carried the faint scent of pine and frost. Normally I loved mornings like this. Today felt different. I had woken before the sun rose, long before the pack began stirring. Sleep had refused to stay with me, my thoughts circling the same things over and over again. Eric. The distance between us. The hurt in his eyes. And Cain. Hannah shifted in the bed beside me, still half-asleep. We had stayed up late talking after everything that happened yesterday. Talking about the rogues. About Eric. About Cain. Mostly about how complicated everything had become. I slipped quietly out of bed so I wouldn’t wake her and pulled on a jacket. The cold greeted me the m

Eric's POV The Frostbite compound was quiet again. Too quiet. Not the peaceful quiet of a calm winter evening, but the tense kind—the kind that came after violence had already visited and promised it might return. Snow drifted slowly across the courtyard, covering the marks left behind from the rogue attack days ago. Wolves had repaired the damaged barricades, reinforced the walls, and doubled patrol rotations. Everything looked normal again. But it wasn’t. I leaned against the wooden railing outside the Alpha house, watching the pack move through their routines below. Training continued in the yard. Guards rotated along the perimeter walls. Smoke curled up from the kitchens where dinner preparations had already begun. Life at Frostbite never really stopped. It adapted. Just like wolves did. Still, my attention kept drifting to one place. Cora. She stood across the courtyard speaking with Hannah, her blond hair catching the fading afternoon light. From this

Cora's POV Clouds hung low over the mountains, turning the sky a dull gray, and a steady wind carried loose snow across the ground in soft drifting waves. Most of the pack wolves were either training or out on patrol after the strategy meeting earlier. Everyone seemed tense. Everyone except Hannah, who sat beside me on the wooden steps outside the pack house, lazily swinging her legs. “You’re staring again,” she said without looking at me. “I’m not.” “You absolutely are.” I sighed. My eyes had drifted toward the training yard again without me realizing it. Eric stood there, sparring with Anton. Their movements were sharp and controlled, two powerful wolves testing each other’s strength in the cold air. Snow scattered beneath their boots with every strike. Even from here, I could see the intensity in Eric’s movements. Harder than usual. Faster. Like he was trying to beat something out of his own body. Hannah nudged my shoulder. “You’re going to burn holes in him if you

Eric's POV The rogue was barely conscious when they dragged him into the holding room. Two Frostbite warriors shoved him down into the wooden chair in the center of the stone chamber. His wrists were bound behind his back with reinforced restraints, and dried blood streaked down the side of his face from the fight earlier that morning. He lifted his head slowly, dark eyes moving around the room with cautious hatred. Anton shut the heavy door behind them with a solid thud. “Comfortable?” he asked dryly. The rogue didn’t answer. I leaned against the stone wall opposite him, studying the man carefully. He was older than most rogues we encountered—mid-thirties maybe. Lean but hardened. The kind of wolf who had survived a long time outside pack protection. That alone made him dangerous. But what interested me more was the small metal pendant Anton held in his hand. The same symbol we had found before. The rogue noticed it immediately. And something flickered in his expression