All Chapters of The Twin Prophecy (Sequel to the She Alpha Prophecy): Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Jon There are moments when the truth has finally become too large to fit inside the lies built around it. This is one of those moments. I stand in the center of Hollow Ridge's great hall with Rowan at my side and Caitlyn beside Jezebel. Around us, wolves continue gathering, drawn by whispers that have already become impossible to contain. The rightful Alphas have returned. They live. The Beta lied. The pack has begun to realize it. Their silence isn't fear anymore. It's uncertainty. Those are two very different things. Malachi stretches beneath my skin. "They need someone to tell them what comes next." He isn't wrong. They've lived under Gavin's rule for almost five years. Lies repeated often enough become routine. Routine becomes normal. His manipulation ran deep before their Alpha's death two years ago. Breaking that takes more than exposing a villain. It requires giving wolves something better to believe in. Lance steps beside me, one hand still resting firmly

Jon Home. I never realized how much a single word could mean until I saw the Wolvesbane gates again. The familiar scent of pine, cedar, wood smoke, and our people reaches us long before the buildings come into view. Malachi rumbles contentedly. "We're home." "Yeah." I smile. "We are." To my left, Jade keeps an easy pace, careful not to jostle the precious cargo secured comfortably to her back. The custom leather seat Hollow Ridge's craftsmen built fits perfectly between her shoulders. Thick straps secure it beneath her chest and around her ribs without restricting her movement, while soft padding cushions every step she takes. Emily laughs as the wind catches her curls. "I can see houses!" Jade slows slightly so the little girl can look around without bouncing too much. Every few minutes, Emily reaches down to stroke Jade's fur. "I like riding wolves." Jezebel's laughter echoes through our pack link. A week ago, we'd entered Hollow Ridge expecting a battle. Now...

Caz We should be used to change by now. But somehow, it still catches us off guard every time. Even the good kind. The morning air is colder than it should be for this time of year, sharp enough that every breath feels like it has edges. Wolvesbane fades behind us as we move out, swallowed by the treeline like it was never fully separate from the forest to begin with. This time, the group feels different. Lance is not coming with us. He stands at the gate longer than usual, arms folded like he’s trying to pretend this is casual. “I’m telling you right now,” he says, “I need this break.” Jon glances back. “From the expeditions?” “From almost dying in scenic locations, yes.” Elias snorts. “That’s dramatic.” Spencer adjusts the map strapped across his pack. “You’re voluntarily staying behind with Tristan.” Lance points at him. “Someone has to make sure he doesn’t pace holes in all the floors.” Jon’s mouth twitches. “I think it be unpreventable.” “That’s what worri

Jon The farther east we travel, the more the forest changes. Not visually. It feels different. Quieter. Not the uneasy silence left behind after predators pass through. This seems more respectful than that. The kind of stillness that settles over places where history refuses to fade, where every tree has watched generations come and go without ever revealing what it knows. "This place has been through a lot," Malachi observes. "I was thinking the same thing." Spencer walks a few yards ahead, his worn map folded beneath one arm. "I still don't like this." Caz looks over. "The map?" "The fact that we're trusting a carving on a piece of wood more than an actual trail," he grumbles. Jedd smiles. "It isn't the carving we're trusting. It's the people who made it." Spencer snorts. "I suppose that sounded wiser in your head." "It usually does." "The vibe is drastically different with Jedd than when Lance is with us," Elias says, sounding almost bored. "You mean you miss

Spencer The hidden chamber refuses to leave my thoughts. Even after we climb through the narrow passage beneath the sycamore roots. Even after the shadows fold back into place and conceal the entrance so completely that I question whether it was ever there. Even after Mara and the others disappear into the forest, one careful group at a time, leaving no tracks obvious enough for an ordinary patrol to follow. I still see the stone slab opening. The cloth hidden beneath it. Someone took everything the prophecy wolves built to survive and turned it into instructions for destroying them. The knowledge sits heavily in my chest. My attention returns to Caz. He walks several paces ahead of Elias and I, beside Jon, one hand pressed unconsciously over the mark beneath his shirt. The burn has faded. At least, that’s what he claims. I’m not sure I believe him. Caz has a habit of treating pain like an irritating stranger at the door. If he ignores it long enough, maybe it will leave. Unfortuna