All Chapters of Rejected by the Alpha Heir, Mated to His Rival Brother: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Ciara's POVThe guards arrived moments later. I could hear them—their heavy breathing, their paws scraping against the stone, their confused snarls as they lost my scent. I pressed myself deeper into the crevice, the rock cold and unyielding against my back, my heart pounding so hard I was certain they could hear it."Where did she go?" one of them growled. His voice was low, rough, frustrated. "She was right here. I saw her. She can't have just vanished.""She's not a ghost," another said. "She has to be somewhere.""Then where? The scent just stops. It's like she disappeared into thin air."They were pacing now. I could hear it—the restless shuffle of paws on stone, the snap of branches underfoot, the low growls of frustration that rumbled through the night. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Slow. Steady. Quiet.They're confused, Syra whispered. They don't know where you are. They're guessing. Stay still.I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just pressed my lips together and

Draven’s POVI sat there for a long moment after they left, the silence of the room pressing in on me like a physical weight. The fire had burned down to embers, casting faint shadows across the stone walls. My chest was tight. My breath came in shallow pulls. The dream still clung to the edges of my mind—her white fur, her golden eyes, the shadows dragging her down into the earth.*She's alive,* I told myself. *She has to be alive. She's too stubborn to die. Too fierce. Too determined. Too much of everything I ever needed.*But the words felt hollow. Empty. The kind of comfort a man gives himself when he has nothing else to hold onto. The kind of lie you tell yourself in the dark when the truth is too terrible to face.I took a breath. Then another. I forced my shoulders to relax, my jaw to unclench, my hands to stop trembling. I had spent my whole life learning how to mask pain, how to bury fear beneath composure, how to present a face the world couldn't read. I could do it now. I h

Draven’s POVMy father didn't speak. He didn't move. He just stood there, his eyes locked on mine, weighing everything I had said. The silence stretched like a wire pulled too tight, and I could feel the council's eyes on us both—waiting, watching, holding their breath.*He's deliberating,* I thought. *He's trying to decide whether to believe me or to bury this. Whether to admit he was wrong or to double down on his pride.**Please,* I prayed silently. *Please don't let this be another wall. Please don't make me fight you too.*I kept my spine straight. I kept my chin lifted. I kept my eyes fixed on his, refusing to look away, refusing to show weakness. I had spent my entire life being judged by this man—found wanting, found lacking, found guilty of the crime of simply being born. I would not cower now. Not when I was telling the truth. Not when Ciara's life hung in the balance.Then my father turned. Slowly. Deliberately. His gaze shifted from me to Marcus, who was still standing nea

Draven's POVThe carriage rolled through the gates of the pack house as the sun began its slow descent toward the western hills. The light was golden now, soft, the kind of light that made everything look gentler than it was. I sat with my back to the window and watched the familiar walls rise around us, and I thought about how strange it was that a place could look exactly the same while everything inside it had changed.The old woman sat across from me, her hands still clasped in her lap, her eyes red-rimmed and vacant. She had cried the entire ride. Not loudly. Just quietly, steadily, the way old people cry when they have run out of the energy for anything more. I had not spoken to her. I had not comforted her. I had simply watched her and waited, because that is what I do.She is not guilty, a voice in my head said. She is just the housekeeper. She did not know. She could not have known.I know, I answered myself. But I am not the one who gets to decide that.The carriage stopped.

Ciara's POVA day later, I found a cave.It was small—barely more than a crack in the rock face, hidden behind a curtain of hanging moss and tangled vines. The entrance was so narrow I had to turn sideways to squeeze through, the stone scraping against my shoulders, my hips, my cheeks. But it was dry, and it was hidden, and it was safe. I had been running for hours, my body aching, my paws raw from the endless miles. I needed to rest. Just for a little while.I shifted back to my human form and crawled inside. The cave was cramped, the ceiling so low I couldn't stand, the walls pressing in on me from all sides. But it was warm, and it was quiet, and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe.I sat down, my back against the cold stone, and closed my eyes.You did well today, Syra said, her voice soft in my mind. We made good time. Better than I expected.We're not there yet.No. But we're close. I can feel it. The air smells different. The trees are familiar. We're almost