Alle Kapitel von Alpha Orion: Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

Rey had never seen this part of the castle before.The air changed the moment she stepped into the Alpha's wing, as Raina had directed. It was heavier, charged, as if the very walls were holding their breath. Her footsteps were muted by a lush black carpet that stretched endlessly ahead.The corridor was nothing like the rest of the castle; it was darker, colder, steeped in wealth and silence. Walls of polished obsidian stone rose high on either side, broken only by columns and high-arched windows draped in thick velvet. The air was cold, but not from temperature, from silence. A silence that felt carved from stone and left to rot.The sconces lining the walls were gilded, shaped like wolf heads with gaping mouths, flames flickering from within their throats. Their glass eyes followed her as she walked.Rey kept her chin up, one hand gripping the cart as she pushed forward. Every creak of the wheel felt like an offence in a place that demanded stillness.How fitting, she thought bitte

The wind howled like a mourning widow.It swept through the hills of Clan Seven, sharp as a blade, carrying with it the scent of pine, frozen bark, and the stench of blood. Orion crouched low on the tree line, the crisp edge of winter biting at his bare forearms, but he welcomed the sting. Pain had long become a comfort, one of the few sensations he still trusted.Before him, a stretch of white snow lay untouched, serene. Except it was only an illusion; there was nothing serene about it.The barns behind him were supposed to be filled with weaponry, smuggled crates, silver rounds, and false blueprints of his territory, all meant to lure out the rats that had crept into his territory like shadows. The bait had been perfect. The trap was flawless, or so he thought.Yet the enemy had walked in, laughed in their faces, and left a message instead.There was blood everywhere.It seeped into the snow like red paint on a white canvas, pooling around twisted limbs and torn torsos of his soldie

The dining room of the Northern Territory's castle was a cavernous chamber of cold grandeur. The vaulted ceiling soared high overhead, hung with black iron chandeliers dripping with flickering candles. Shadows danced over the dark stone walls, catching on mounted wolf heads and ancient tapestries that told the blood-soaked history of the Lycans. At the centre stretched a long, imposing table of polished obsidian wood, set to perfection. Porcelain dishes gleamed beneath the warm amber glow, each paired with delicate crystal wine glasses that caught the light like drops of frozen blood. Polished steel cutlery sharpened to an edge that could kill was arranged with military precision. At the head sat Orion, his chair a throne carved from dark oak, etched with runes that whispered of his lineage. His presence filled the room without a word, the air taut as a drawn bow. To his right, General Iver lounged with calculated insolence, his fingers drumming an unhurried rhythm on the tabletop wi

The grip of the guards was unyielding, their claws pricking against her skin through the thin fabric of her sleeves. Rey didn't flinch. Every step toward the West Wing felt like a step closer to the one thing that mattered, the only thing that had mattered since the day they were torn apart.Her breath came slow and measured as the air grew colder with each hallway they crossed. The stone walls darkened, torchlight giving way to a dim, flickering glow.Somewhere beyond the heavy silence, she could hear faint echoes, metal dragging over stone floors, and the low groans of the wind squeezing through narrow slits in the walls.The West Wing.Behind her, far down the corridor, Orion had followed, standing still, rooted to a spot in the corridor, watching. She hadn't looked back, but she could feel the burn of his gaze on her spine, searing and heavy.Everything in him had begged to deny Iver's request, yet here she was, being taken exactly where Iver had wanted. That wasn't a mistake; it

The rattle of keys came first, followed by the heavy stomp of boots. Rey's head lifted just as Iver appeared at the end of the corridor, flanked by two guards. His smile was as bright as it was poisonous. "I see you two have gotten acquainted," he drawled, eyes flicking between Rey and Erik. The air shifted. Rey didn't miss the way Erik's relaxed posture turned rigid, nor the steel in his glare aimed at Iver. One thing became clear, she wasn't the only one who despised the bastard. But now that she knew Beau wasn't here in the West Wing, the reality gnawed at her: she'd have to leave the castle entirely to find him. The question was... how? "Bring her," Iver ordered, his tone dipped in false casualness. "We've a punishment to attend to." Cold metal clamped around her wrists, and they led her out of the holding cells, through narrow stone corridors, until a blast of frigid air hit her. They emerged into a snow-blanketed clearing behind the castle. To the side, a mound of chopped wo