All Chapters of Rejected by the Alpha Heir, Mated to His Rival Brother: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Draven’s POVThe beer parlour was dark, loud, and smelled of sweat and stale ale. The kind of place a man went when he wanted to disappear. The kind of place where no one asked questions, where no one cared who you were or what you had done. The kind of place where a bastard son could drink himself to death in peace.The floor was sticky beneath my boots. The walls were stained with years of smoke and spilled drink. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the faces of the patrons—men who looked like they had crawled out of the gutter, men who had nothing left to lose, men who had given up on the world long before I walked through the door.I fit right in.I sat in the corner, my back to the wall, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of me and a row of empty glasses lined up like soldiers. I had lost count of how many I had drunk. I had lost count of everything. The hours. The days. The reason I was still breathing.The world was soft at the edges now. Blu

Ciara’s POVI held his hand like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.The manor doors closed behind us with a soft, final click, sealing out the night and the cold and the watching eyes of the pack. The warmth of the great hall wrapped around me like a blanket—firelight and beeswax and old stone. It smelled like home. It smelled like him.Draven's hand was warm in mine. His fingers were long and calloused, and they curled around my own like they had been made for exactly this purpose. He walked slowly, carefully, like a man who had forgotten how to move without pain. I watched him from the corner of my eye, cataloguing every sign I had missed in the chaos of our reunion.The hollows beneath his cheekbones. The shadows under his eyes, dark and deep. The way his shoulders sat just slightly lower than they should, as though he had been carrying something heavy for a very long time. His tunic hung loose on him—looser than it should have. He had lost weight. He had lost

Ciara’s POVI took a breath, steadying myself. The warmth of his hand in mine was grounding, but the memories still churned in my chest like a storm I couldn't quiet. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to bury it, to forget it, to pretend that none of it had happened. But he needed to know. He deserved to know."After the shift," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "I ran. I couldn't stop. The wolf was in control, and I was just... there. Watching. Feeling. But not directing."I paused, searching for the right words. The memories were still raw, still bleeding at the edges."I ran for hours. Maybe longer. I don't know. The world was a blur of trees and earth and sky. I felt the wind in my fur, the ground beneath my paws, the power in my muscles. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. And then, eventually, the exhaustion came. The wolf couldn't run anymore. We collapsed."I closed my eyes, picturing it. The cold ground. The darkness. The silence."When I woke, I was human a

Kaden's POVI stared at her. The word hung in the air between us—stop—and I watched it land like a slap across her face."What?" she said, her voice sharp."I said stop." I rose from my chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor behind me. "There's no plan. I'm not doing this anymore."Isolde stared at me, her dark eyes widening. "What are you talking about?""I'm talking about the fact that this is pointless." I walked to the window and turned my back to her, looking out at the dark courtyard below. The torches flickered in the evening breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. "All of it. The scheming. The plotting. The endless pursuit of something that was never ours to begin with.""Pointless?" Her heels clicked against the stone as she stepped closer. "How can you say that? We have a chance—""We don't have a chance." I turned to face her. "We never did. We were just too blind to see it.""That's not true." She shook her head, her jaw tight. "You saw them tonight. Y

Ciara's POVThe corridor stretched before us, long and quiet, the stone walls flickering with the light of a hundred torches. Draven walked beside me, his hand wrapped around mine, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin. He hadn't let go since we left our quarters. I wasn't sure he ever would."You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "If you're not ready, I can tell my father to wait. He'll understand."I looked up at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes shadowed with worry. He had been like this all morning—hovering, protective, ready to fight anyone who looked at me wrong."I'm ready," I said. "I need to do this.""You don't need to do anything. You've already done more than anyone could have asked."I squeezed his hand. "I need them to know the truth. All of it. I need them to understand what happened—what Thorne did, what my uncle did, what I did. I need it to be on the record."He studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded."Then I'll be right there beside you," he said. "T