جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

CRASH.Crystal splintered across the VIP corridor. Kael froze mid-step, fingers still brushing empty air where Phoenix had been moments before.“She’s back! I saw her eyes! I know it!”Serena’s voice—usually silk and whispers—shattered into hysteria.Kael reached the doorway of the private lounge. The door was ajar. Shadows swallowed him. Inside, chaos awaited.Serena stood amid the wreckage, silver gown torn, mascara bleeding dark streaks down her cheeks. Red wine pooled like spilled blood beneath a shattered crystal carafe. She grabbed a silver-backed hand mirror and hurled it against the wall.“The dead bitch was supposed to be underwater!” she screamed at the shards. “I saw her jump! The Pack bond snapped! How… how is she wearing that dress? How is she still alive?!”Kael’s jaw clenched until it ached. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the woman he had once called his savior. Where was the fragile girl who had dragged him from the ice? The miracle he had vowed to protect?

The clock ticked toward 2:00 AM in the Alpha’s office. Kael sat hunched over three monitors, the cold blue light painting his sharp features with the pallor of obsession. His tie hung loose, sleeves rolled up; he looked less like a king and more like a man haunted by ghosts.He clicked through the encrypted files of Moon Pack’s offshore accounts, every keystroke precise, every breath shallow. Something was off. Every time he tried to authorize a transfer, the cursor slid away as if the mouse had a mind of its own."Come on," he hissed, fingers flying over the mechanical keyboard, teeth clenched.Suddenly, the screens flickered. The spreadsheets vanished, replaced by a black void. In the center bloomed a neon-pink icon—a round-bellied cartoon pig wearing a crooked crown. Beneath it, bright yellow text scrolled in a mocking font:STUPID ALPHA.Kael froze. His pulse thundered in his ears. He slammed a palm against the mahogany desk. "Marcus! Now!"The Beta scrambled in, bleary-eyed. "Alp

The victory at the Council Hall should have been enough, but Phoenix knew the hunt had only just begun. The look in Kael’s eyes—that raw, shattered disbelief—was a wildfire she had sparked. It wouldn’t be quenched by a gavel’s strike.An hour later, the storm arrived at her door.The penthouse smelled of cold marble and expensive air filtration. A sterile sanctuary, about to be breached. Phoenix stood in the foyer, hand white-knuckled against the heavy oak door, as the elevator chimed. The vibration through the floorboards told her everything: the heavy, rhythmic stride of a predator who no longer cared for decorum."I didn't invite you, Alpha Blackwood."Kael didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped into the light, presence expanding to fill the hallway like a looming thunderhead. In one hand, a bottle of vintage scotch—an apparent peace offering. But his eyes told a different story: burning, restless, hunting for a ghost in the corners of her life."We are partners now," Kael said,

The elevator lurched without warning.A violent screech of metal tore through the shaft, followed by a stomach-dropping jolt that knocked Phoenix off balance. The lights flickered once—twice—then died entirely.Darkness swallowed the steel box.Before she could hit the floor, iron-strong arms closed around her waist.“Don’t touch me.”Phoenix shoved hard against Kael’s chest, her palms striking solid muscle. The emergency light snapped on, flooding the cramped space with a dim, blood-red glow that made everything feel too intimate, too close.“I didn’t break the elevator,” Kael said, his voice low and rough. “Stop flailing.”Three steps.That was all the room they had.Phoenix pressed her back against the cold steel wall, jaw tight. Kael stood directly in front of her, his broad shoulders blocking the panel, his presence filling the space like a storm front rolling in.And then she felt it.His aura.He wasn’t suppressing it.The Alpha pressure leaked from him in slow, suffocating wav

The Moon Pack Square blazed like a second sun.Floodlights bathed the open plaza in merciless white, washing every shadow away, while the relentless clicking of cameras rose and fell like a mechanical tide. Screens taller than ancient oaks flanked the stage, each one looping the same message in elegant silver script:THE SERENA COLLECTION — A NEW ERA.Serena stood at the center of it all.Velvet draped the stage beneath her feet, crimson and indulgent, as if the entire pack had laid its heart out for her to walk upon. She lifted her chin, spine straight, shoulders back—every inch the woman who believed destiny had finally bowed to her will.Behind her, models glided forward in perfect formation.Silver-spun gowns caught the light, shimmering as though woven from moonfire and starlight. Backless silhouettes. Asymmetrical drapes. That distinctive lightning-bolt fall at the hip—bold, dangerous, unforgettable.A murmur rippled through the crowd. Awe. Desire. Envy.Serena smiled wider.“Fo