บททั้งหมดของ ALPHAS of the PEAK: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

"What the fuck is that racket?" I growled, burying my head under a pillow.The pounding on my hotel door sounded like an Enforcer’s battering ram. My skull felt like it had been split by a silver axe, and a sharp, rhythmic stinging on my cheek made every twitch of my facial muscles a chore. I wasn't ready to face the pack, let alone the sun. I dragged my frame out of the silk sheets, shoved into a pair of black boxers, and yanked the door open."Rise and shine, Alpha-heir," Grant grinned. He looked entirely too awake for a man who’d been howling at the moon six hours ago. Then his eyes locked on my face. "Holy shit, Harrison. Who tried to skin you?"I touched the jagged cut on my cheek. The memory of a diamond edge flashed in my mind. "Rough night. Move." I eyed the silver tray in his hands. "Is that life-support?""Caffeine and grease." Grant shoved the tray at my chest. I nearly dropped the French press as he pushed past me. "Drain that. I’m rounding up Marcus and Oliver."He vanish

"Madeline Cruz, where in the hell have you been?"I winced, the sheer volume of my father’s roar vibrating through my hungover skull. I cracked one eye open. Richard was standing ten feet away, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored trousers, his jaw set like a slab of granite. This was the Alpha of the house, and he looked ready to tear a strip off me. I tried to pull a mask of innocence over my face, even as my head throbbed."Morning, Dad."If the Cruz twins could slide out of trouble by batting their lashes and playing the perfect high-bred daughters, maybe I could fake it long enough to reach the stairs."Don’t you 'morning' me," he snapped, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. "Your phone has been going to voicemail for six hours. Elaine and I have been imagining you face-down in a ditch!"Shit. The "doting daughter" act was dead on arrival. I searched for a lie, but my brain was a static mess of rum and silver-maple needles. "I was... we went to... I just—" I trailed

I stood staring at the bar, wondering if a stiff drink would steady my hands or just make the room spin faster.The crowd was a writhing mass of sweat and expensive silk. I carved a path through the bodies, focusing on the glint of the bottles across the room. I was almost there when a heavy shoulder caught me from behind. I stumbled, my boots skidding on the hardwood, and pitched forward.Strong arms wrapped around my waist, steadying me before I could hit the floor. The scent of lightning and wet earth hit me like a physical blow.I looked up to apologize, but the words turned to ash. Those blue eyes. That sharp, arrogant jawline."It’s you," I gasped. The air left my lungs in a rush. "Holy shit."He looked like he’d been struck by lightning. His jaw went slack, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at me. We stayed like that—tangled together in the middle of a rager—until the heat of his hands through my clothes snapped me back to reality. I shoved away, putting a few feet of col

In that moment, I felt the air in my lungs turn to ice. This wasn't happening. She wasn't supposed to return—not now, not ever. Serena Whitlock was supposed to stay in the Northern territories for the rest of her calculated existence, but apparently, the Moon Mother was in a particularly sadistic mood. First Maddie, now this."How soon is soon?" I managed to grit out, my claws threatening to prick my palms."My flight touches down on Monday. I’ll be walking the halls of Trinity by Tuesday morning.""Maybe I should just go rogue and vanish into the mountains," I muttered."There’s no use hiding, Harrison. In a pack this small, we’re bound to catch each other’s scent eventually." The sound of voices—refined, Northern accents—and a few words of French drifted over the line. "I have to go. But one more thing.""What?" I asked, my patience fraying into nothing.There was a heartbeat of silence, then, "I still love you, Harrison."I felt the old familiar sting, but I shoved it down into the

Today, however, there was no crowded pack-theory class to buffer the tension. It was just the two of us, locked in a room that smelled faintly of floor wax and stale adrenaline. We were supposed to have a monitor, but in my extensive history with in-school isolation, the staff usually only poked their heads in when they were bored. Given our reputation for snapping at each other’s throats, I doubted anyone was eager to play referee for eight hours.The first bell echoed through the stone halls like a funeral toll. I dropped into my homeroom seat, silently petitioning the Moon Mother for a miracle. A fire drill, a surprise inspection by the High Council—hell, I would have settled for a localized earthquake if it meant avoiding Room 132.But the universe remained stubbornly silent. No alarms rang. No dignitaries arrived. When the period ended, I had to face the music. The isolation room was directly across the hall, mocking me with its proximity. I took a breath that tasted like iron an