All Chapters of Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The truth sat in Kaelan’s chest like a live coal. He stood alone in his study long after Celeste had left, the morning light shifting across the maps and ledgers on his desk without him truly seeing them. Her words replayed in his mind with ruthless clarity. Lyssara. The blood rituals. The murdered healer. The century of war built on a lie. The prophecy that had hung over his head since childhood now twisted into something far more personal and far more terrifying. He is the door. But a door can open to darkness as well as light. Kaelan’s hand drifted

The training grounds of Ravencrest were loud with the sound of steel and heavy breathing. In preparation for the upcoming festival. Seraphine stood in the shaded colonnade that ran along the western edge of the yard, half-hidden behind one of the thick stone pillars. She had not meant to stop here. She had been on her way to the archives, a stack of old tracking records under her arm, when the familiar sound of Cassian’s voice had pulled her to a halt. He was in the center of the yard, shirtless under the late morning sun, his dark skin gleaming with sweat as he moved through a series of brutal sparring drills. Ryke stood across from him, also stripped to the waist, the two of them exchanging blows with the easy, lethal rhythm of men who had fought si

The moon was high when Kaelan finally left the war room. His body was tight wit  tension from the day ,  the endless discussions about festival security, the careful lies he had fed the elders, the way his father’s eyes had followed him like a blade at his back. He needed air. He needed quiet. He needed her. The bond pulled him through the dark corridors. He did not question it. He had stopped questioning it the night she told him the truth about Lyssara and the door. Every step that brought him closer to her room eased something sharp in his chest. 

The night in Ravencrest always felt heavier than the nights in Silvermere. Maera sat by the narrow window of the small room she had been given, a wool shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders even though the fire in the hearth burned steadily. Somewhere in this mountain fortress her daughter was sleeping  or not sleeping, carrying gifts that should have remained buried. Maera closed her eyes and, as she so often did when fear pressed too close, let memory take her. She had been younger then. Not young, exactly, but younger. Celeste had been only a few months old, a little girl against her chest in the carrying sling, when the hunters found them.

The decision settled in her chest like a stone dropping into still water, it was quiet at first, then sending ripples through everything she had been carefully holding apart. Seraphine stood alone in the restricted archives long after the last lanterns in the outer corridors had been dimmed. The air smelled of old parchment, dust, and the faint metallic tang that always seemed to seep up from the lower levels of Ravencrest. Scrolls and bound records lay open across the long table in front of her. She had read the same passages three times without absorbing them. Her mind was elsewhere. She had come to Ravencrest for the truth. That had always been the mission. Find the evidence. Protect the bloodline’s knowledge. Watch the Alpha. Leave when the work w