บททั้งหมดของ REJECTED BY THE ALPHA, CLAIMED BY HIS BLOOD : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

Lyra Ashen crossed the Black Fang border, knowing it would either save her life or end it. The trees thinned first. That was always the sign. The forest grew quieter too, as if even the night knew better than to breathe too loudly here. Lyra pulled her torn jacket tighter around herself and kept moving, boots crunching softly over frostbitten leaves. Hunger gnawed at her belly, sharp and constant, but fear kept her upright. Fear was familiar. She trusted it more than hope. She had gone three days without food. Two without sleep. The snares she set beyond the border came up empty, and the river she depended on had frozen solid. Crossing into Black Fang territory was a death sentence for most rogues, but starving to death alone in the woods was slower. She chose the faster risk. She didn’t smell them until it was too late. The pressure hit first. Heavy. Crushing. Alpha land. Lyra staggered, breath catching in her throat as the invisible weight of it pressed down on her shoulders

Lyra woke to the sound of wolves arguing. The voices carried through the stone long before footsteps reached the holding level. Sharp, angry, layered with fear. She opened her eyes slowly, muscles aching from a night spent chained upright. The wall torch had burned low, leaving the room cold and dim. Frost crept along the edges of the stone floor. Her arms trembled as she shifted her weight. Sleep had been shallow and broken, filled with the pull of the bond and flashes of gold eyes watching her from the dark. They hadn’t fed her. That wasn’t a mistake. The door scraped open. Mara Vale entered first, her expression carefully neutral. Behind her came Dane Korr and two other enforcers. They stopped just inside the threshold, eyes fixed on Lyra like she was an exposed nerve. “This isn’t a council chamber,” Dane said. “We shouldn’t be wasting time.” Mara didn’t look at him. “You don’t get to decide what’s a waste.” Lyra lifted her head. Her throat was dry, but her voic

Lyra drifted in and out of consciousness to the steady rhythm of Tyler’s heartbeat. It was slow. Controlled. Unyielding. She became aware of movement first, the sensation of being carried jarring against the raw injuries lining her back and ribs. Each step sent a dull ache through her body, but strong arms kept her from falling, from being jostled the way she would have been if anyone else held her. She hated that her body noticed. When her eyes finally opened, torchlight blurred above her. Stone walls passed overhead, familiar but different. Wider corridors. Cleaner. Quieter. This wasn’t the holding level. Tyler pushed open a heavy door with his shoulder and stepped inside. Warmth washed over Lyra immediately, thick and heavy with the scent of firewood and leather. The door shut behind them with a solid thud. Tyler’s quarters. Her breath caught. He carried her deeper into the room and laid her down on a wide stone table near the hearth. The surface was cool beneat

The first attack came before nightfall. Lyra felt it before anyone spoke a word. The bond tightened suddenly, sharp and alert, like a pulled wire snapping her attention outward. She stiffened mid-step as Tyler led her across the eastern walkway, stone walls rising on one side and the forest stretching dark and restless on the other. Something was wrong. Tyler felt it too. His stride slowed, his shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly. He lifted a hand. The patrol stopped instantly. “Report,” he said. A scout broke from the shadows ahead, breath fast, eyes bright with urgency. “Movement near the tree line. Not wolves.” Lyra’s pulse spiked. “Ronan.” Tyler’s gaze flicked to her. “Stay behind me.” “That wasn’t the arrangement.” “This isn’t a negotiation.” He stepped forward, power rolling off him in heavy waves. Wolves shifted around them, claws scraping softly against stone as the patrol fanned out. The forest went quiet. Too quiet. Lyra swallowed hard, ev

The first tree stood just beyond the eastern ridge. Lyra saw it before anyone spoke. The bark had been stripped away in a rough oval, pale wood exposed beneath the dark forest skin. Fresh. Violent. The smell of sap still hung in the air. And carved deep into the center of it, jagged and unmistakable, was her name. LYRA. The bond reacted instantly, tightening like a noose around her chest. Heat flared beneath her collarbone, sharp and warning. She staggered half a step before Tyler’s hand closed around her forearm, steady and unyielding. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Not here.” She forced herself to breathe. “They wanted me to see it.” “Yes.” “And you brought me anyway.” “I wasn’t going to hide it from you.” That, more than the carving itself, told her everything about him. The patrol fanned out, wolves moving fast and silent through the trees. No one spoke. Every eye flicked between the mark and Lyra, tension pulled tight as a wire. “This isn’t a scout’s work,” Ma