Todos los capítulos de THE ALPHA CHOOSE THE WRONG SISTER : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The moment her blood hit his tongue, Damon convulsed. Not gently. Not the slow, grateful ease of a wound simply closing — his whole body arched off the stone floor, a raw sound tearing out of his throat like something being burned out from the inside. *Fire meeting ice,* Aria thought, watching the frost-veins along his arm flare bright white, then black, then vanish entirely in violent, sputtering pulses. Her magic, her wolf, her hunger — all three surged down the shared blood at once, colliding with the poison already spreading through him, and the resulting battle wasn't quiet. It was a war fought under his skin, visible in flickers of light beneath the surface. Rylan scrambled back a step. "Alpha—" "Don't touch him," Aria snapped, holding a hand up, eyes locked on Damon's face as his back bowed again, jaw clenched hard enough to crack. Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. Damon's eyes flew open. Gold, first — pure Alpha, molten and furious. Then, threaded through it li

Rain streaked the tinted glass as the black vehicle rolled toward the estate gates, headlights sweeping across a driveway Aria remembered dying beside. She kept her breathing measured, counting each inhale, forcing the glamour to hold against a rising tide of memory threatening to break it apart from the inside. *In. Out. Steady.* Beside her, Damon watched her more than the road. "Your eyes," he said quietly. Aria glanced at her reflection in the window — brown, still brown, but at the edges, the faintest flicker of gold trying to bleed through. "I'm fine." "You're not." His voice sharpened, low and urgent. "The closer we get, the harder it's fighting you." "I said I'm fine." He reached over and tilted her chin toward him, firm, deliberate, forcing her focus off the estate gates and onto him instead. "Look at me," he said. "Not the gates. Not the memory. Me." "Let go." "No." His eyes held hers, dark and unyielding. "If that glamour breaks the second we step out of this car,

Aria's claws had already begun to extend when the shadow stepped into the faint hallway light. Rylan. She exhaled hard, tension bleeding out of her shoulders in one sharp breath. "You scared the hell out of me." "Sorry." He didn't look sorry, eyes already scanning both directions of the corridor, alert and steady. "Damon sent me ahead. Figured you'd need eyes that weren't stuck at the party." "Good instinct." Aria nodded toward the door behind her. "Watch the hall. I need a few minutes." Rylan positioned himself at the corridor's mouth, silent and solid, and Aria slipped into the study, easing the door shut behind her. The room smelled like old parchment and her father's cologne — a scent that used to mean *fear* when she was small, back when being summoned here meant she'd failed at something. *Not anymore.* Her eyes swept the space, cataloguing quickly — desk, bookshelves, a heavy wall safe half-hidden behind a tapestry. She crossed to it, fingers hovering over the cold metal

Dawn broke gray and cold as the convoy crested the final ridge, and the BloodMoon Packhouse rose out of the mist like something carved from the mountain itself. Aria's senses caught it before her eyes fully processed the scale — stone walls centuries old, ancient wards humming faintly beneath the foundation, and beneath all of it, the overwhelming layered scent of hundreds of pure-blood wolves. Authority. Hierarchy. And underneath the smoke and cedar and old magic — hostile, simmering curiosity, already aimed straight at the vehicle carrying her. *They know I'm here before I've even opened the door.* Damon stepped out first, and the moment his boots hit stone, his Alpha aura unfurled fully, heavy and absolute, rippling outward across the courtyard like a physical wave. Guards straightened. Conversations died. Every lower-ranking wolf in sight dropped their gaze on instinct. He turned and offered his hand to help her out — not a courtesy, Aria understood immediately, but a declara

The stone burned hotter still, and Aria crushed it. Magic surged through her fist in one sharp, controlled pulse, and the obsidian shattered into fine black dust between her fingers, the wrong-frequency hum finally, mercifully silenced. *Message received. Message ended.* Her mind was already moving fast, cold and clinical, cataloguing implications instead of dwelling on the violation of it. The door opened. Damon stepped in, still adjusting his cuffs from wherever he'd been with Rylan, and froze the instant he saw her expression. "What happened." Aria crossed the room and threw the black dust onto the desk between them, watching it settle in a fine, damning layer across polished wood. "That," she said, "was a beacon. Hidden in the dresser drawer. Broadcasting my location and drawing on my magic since before we walked into this room." Damon's face went utterly still, the particular stillness of a predator absorbing a mortal wound before reacting to it. "That's not possible," he