All Chapters of Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha Prince: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

I stumble backward, right into Kieran’s chest. His arms come around me immediately, holding me upright as my legs threaten to give out.“We’ll find them,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice steady. “I promise you, we’ll find them.”But I can hear the hollowness in his tone. The doubt.Outside, the soldiers are spreading out, knocking on doors. Voices rise in question as they wake sleeping pack members.“I need to check their rooms,” I whisper.Kieran’s arms tighten around me for a moment before he releases me. “I’m coming with you.”The stairs creak under my weight as I climb them. Each step feels impossible, like I’m moving through deep mud. Kieran follows close behind, a silent shadow.The first door used to be mine. I push it open, and my heart sinks.Storage. My childhood bedroom has been converted into a storage room.Boxes are stacked haphazardly against the walls, old clothes spilling out of them. Broken furniture. Tools. Random household items gathering dust. Not a single t

I watch Daciana sleep, curled on her side in the pre-dawn darkness. She hasn’t slept much since we arrived in Silver Stone Pack territory—none of us have—but exhaustion finally claimed her an hour ago. Her face is peaceful now, a sharp contrast to the devastation I know waits for her when she wakes.Once my mate was asleep, I combed through the entire house. Traces of magic were everywhere. I was not surprised.I rub my hands over my face. I know the feeling of loss all too well, but I never wanted Daciana to experience it.Light creeps through the windows, and her eyes flutter open. “Kieran?” she mumbles softly.“I’m here.”She sits up, and for a moment, I see hope flicker in her eyes, like maybe it was all a nightmare. Then, her face crumbles before rebuilding itself stoically.“They’re really gone,” she whispers.“Yes.”She doesn’t cry. Not yet. But I see the way her hands tremble as she dresses, the careful blankness settling over her features like armor. I know this kind of grief

In the bottom of her mother’s closet, beneath layers of folded blankets, she finds a box.“What is it?” I ask.She opens it, revealing a blanket—old, faded, but lovingly preserved.Beneath it is a small necklace, the metal tarnished with age.“A baby blanket,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the worn fabric. “But it’s so old. And there’s no smell on it at all.”I take it from her, bringing it to my nose. She’s right; there is no scent, which is strange for something this old. But when I reach out with my magic, I feel something.“There is a trace of you,” I say. “Your magic. Very faint, but it’s there.”“Mine?” She looks bewildered. “But I’ve never seen this before.”I examine the necklace next. It’s a pendant, circular, with an intricate design etched into the metal. The style is familiar. I’ve seen similar pieces before.“This looks like a sigil,” I tell her. “A house mark or family crest.”“What family?”“I don’t know. But someone went to great lengths to hide these.” I hand

I don’t want to be here.The thought pulses through my mind as I stand in the throne room, spine rigid, hands clenched. All I want to do is grieve my family in peace, but it seems that’s not going to happen. I have to face the Umbra Council and defend myself against these false charges.The throne room is packed. Nobles line the walls, their faces ranging from contemptuous to calculating. They know exactly why they’re here. Their stares press down on my shoulders like a physical weight.This is a spectacle, and I’m the entertainment.Kieran stands beside me, his presence a solid anchor in the chaos. His hand hovers near mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. The mate bond thrums between us, a constant reminder that I’m not alone.The delegation from the Snow Mountain Pack stands behind us. Warriors with shoulders like mountains and eyes that have seen centuries of survival. They’re ready for a fight. Tension coils in their stance

Kieran meets his gaze steadily. “Then the nobles should know their place.” He pauses, and ancient power flickers across his features. “We may no longer be on the throne, but there was a reason my family held power for so many centuries.”Kael rises slowly to his feet. “Is that a threat?”“I am not interested in your throne, young King.” Kieran’s voice is quiet, but it carries. “But I will not have my family threatened again. And Daciana is my family.”Our bond is warm and strong as it flares between us.“I am interested in the politics at hand,” Kieran continues, never dropping Kael’s gaze, “but if you want my help, you will remind the Umbra Council that you are still the King.”The silence that follows is suffocating.Finally, Kieran turns, and his hand takes mine, his grip firm and possessive. “Come,” he says quietly.I follow him out of the throne room, my heart pounding. Rage radiates off him in waves, his magic crackling just beneath his skin. Every step is controlled, measured,