All Chapters of Rejected by the Alpha Heir, Mated to His Rival Brother: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Draven's POVThe door swung open. Marcus stood there, his face pale and gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from days of crying. His hair was disheveled, sticking up in odd angles. His shirt was wrinkled and stained, hanging loose on a frame that looked like it had lost weight. He looked like a man who had been through a war and lost everything worth fighting for.He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. His eyes widened in disbelief. "Draven?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "What—how—you're supposed to be confined—""I got out." I pushed past him into the room, not waiting for an invitation. "What the hell happened to you? You look like death warmed over."The room was a disaster. Empty bottles littered the floor, some shattered, some still intact, their contents staining the stone. Clothes were strewn everywhere—shirts, trousers, boots. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled and stained. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out an

Ciara’s POVI sat on the cold stone bench, my fingers gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles were white. The night air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called out, its voice echoing through the darkness like a warning. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, casting the world into an almost complete darkness that seemed to swallow everything.I was terrified.My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My palms were sweaty despite the cold. My stomach was a knot of anxiety that refused to loosen, no matter how many deep breaths I took. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to go home, to pretend this wasn't happening. To crawl back into Draven's arms and never leave.But I couldn't. I had made a promise. I had made a vow. And I would keep it, even if it cost me everything.I looked down at myself. I was wearing protective gear—leather armor that hugged my body, reinforced with metal plates a

Ciara's POVThe old estate loomed before us, a dark, skeletal silhouette against the moonless sky. Its crumbling stone walls were draped in thick ivy, the windows like hollow eyes staring into the night. Somewhere inside, a sixteen-year-old girl was waiting to be saved. Somewhere inside, my future was hanging in the balance.I gripped Thomas's fur tighter as we approached from the north, his powerful muscles rippling beneath me with each silent stride. The other wolves had spread out, their dark forms barely visible as they moved through the forest like shadows given life. We communicated through low howls and subtle signals—a language of trust and coordination that I was only beginning to understand. Each sound, each movement, carried meaning. They had done this before. They knew what they were doing. I was the only one who didn't.Thomas slowed as we reached a small clearing about a hundred yards from the estate. He shifted back to human form, his body contorting and reforming

Draven's POV I sat on the cold stone bench near the courtyard gate, my eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. The night air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant promise of rain. Around me, the courtyard buzzed with activity. Men moved through the shadows, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Weapons clinked. Voices murmured. The air was thick with tension and anticipation. Marcus had done well. Better than I had expected. Over twenty men stood ready, their faces set with grim determination, their armor glinting in the dim torchlight. They had come because they believed in the cause, because they believed in justice, because they were willing to die for what was right. And yet, despite the army gathered before me, all I could feel was the weight of fear pressing down on my chest. Ciara was out there. Somewhere in the darkness, facing Thorne's men, risking everything for me. And I couldn't protect her. Couldn't reach her. Could only sit here

Ciara’s POVI plunged through the false wall, the stone scraping against my shoulders as I stumbled into the darkness beyond. The corridor was narrow, the walls rough and damp, closing in on me like the throat of some ancient beast. The air was cold and thick, smelling of earth and decay, of mold and forgotten things. I couldn't see anything. The darkness was absolute, swallowing the faint light from the wine cellar behind me like a hungry mouth.But I could hear them.Shouts echoed from behind me, the pounding of boots on stone. They were coming. They were right behind me. I didn't have time to think. I just ran.My hands scraped against the walls as I stumbled forward, my feet finding uneven ground. The corridor sloped downward, deeper into the earth. I could feel the weight of the estate pressing down on me, the stone walls closing in like a vice. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my own frantic breathing and the thun