All Chapters of Marked By Two: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Third person pov( Maeve)​​The medical wing was too quiet, the air smelling of forced recovery and tension. Maeve sat on the edge of the bed, the silk robe Aria had brought her feeling like a second skin.​She wasn't the broken girl they thought she was. Julian had taught her many things while she was "under", the most important being that in a house full of Alphas, the one who whispers the loudest is the one who eventually leads.​The door creaked open. It wasn't Aria this time.​It was Cassian. He looked like a man who had been put through a meat grinder. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he carried the heavy, intoxicating scent of bourbon mixed with the lingering perfume of the girl he’d just kissed in the garden.​"You should be resting," he said, his voice a rough, gravelly mess. He didn't look at her directly; he was staring at the IV pole as if it held the secrets to his ruined life.​"I’ve rested enough, Cassian," Maeve said, her voice soft and melodic. She

​Aria’s POV​The silence that followed Silas’s jab was more violent than the scream Elena had let out. I watched Cassian’s jaw set and tighten, his eyes turning dark to a shade of amber that promised nothing but carnage. Silas was playing a dangerous game, mocking a Vaelor about his mate in his own house while it was already burning down from the inside.​"My mate," Cassian said, the words coming out as a low edge. He didn't look at Elena. He looked at Silas, his hands gripping the back of his chair so hard the mahogany groaned. "Is none of your concern. Perhaps in the North, you treat your women like show ponies, but here, we value... discretion."​"Discretion?" the Grand Luna snapped, her voice like a whip. She stood up, her emerald gown shining under the dying candlelight. "There is nothing discreet about a woman who comes out of her room looking tattered to babble nonsense in front of our most important business partners."​She turned her gaze toward the guards at the door, her ey

​Third Person POV​The luxury of the guest wing had become a tomb for Elena. The walls were covered in silk and adorned with gold leaf, felt as though they were closing in on her with every breath she took. She paced the length of the room, her fingers knotting together so tightly her knuckles were white.​"I’m pregnant," she whispered to the empty room, her voice cracking. "I’m really pregnant."​She had spent years playing the part Julian had scripted for her, but the irony was a blade in her gut—now that she finally had the one thing that could bind her to the Vaelor line, no one believed her. She was a liar who had finally told a truth that had come too late.​A soft, metallic click echoed through the room.​Elena froze, her eyes moving to the heavy oak door. It hadn't been unlocked from the outside by a guard. Instead, the handle turned slowly, and the door slipped open just enough for a slim figure to come in through the shadows.​It was Maeve.​She wasn't wearing the hospital g

​Aria’s POV​The first thing I noticed wasn't the light, but the air.​At the Vaelor estate, the air always tasted of cold stone, expensive floor wax, and the heavy scent of Alphas. But the air here was sweet. It carried the scent of crushed pine needles, damp earth, and the wild, peppery bloom of mountain lilies. It was the smell of home.I sat up, the grass beneath my palms soft and cool. I wasn't wearing the stiff, silk gown from the dinner, I was in my old linen tunic, the fabric worn thin and soft from a hundred washings in the creek. ​I felt light. I felt hollow in the way a bird must feel before it takes flight.​"Aria! You’ve been napping for an hour. The sun will be over the ridge before we even start the harvest."​The voice was a melody I thought had been silenced forever by the roar of flames and the screams of the dying.​I turned my head slowly, terrified that even a sharp movement would shatter the world around me. Standing a few yards away, kneeling in a patch of wil

​Noah’s POV​By the time I reached the executive floor, the smell hit me. Not just the scent of gunpowder and ozone, but the metallic tang of blood. ​I stopped at the entrance of my office. My desk, a solid slab of hand-carved oak, had been split down the middle. My files, the lifeblood of all the routes, were fluttering in the wind that whistled through the shattered windows. And there, slumped against the mahogany filing cabinet, was Sarah.​My secretary. The woman who had sent flowers to my mother for twenty years, who knew my coffee order before I did, and who had stayed late every night this week to help me navigate the North's legal traps. Her throat had been slit open.​Something in my chest finally snapped.​"Silas!"​The roar tore from my throat, vibrating the very foundations of the building.​From the shadows of the balcony, Silas stepped out. He looked unbothered, adjusting the cuffs of his silk suit as he looked at the carnage he caused. "You're late, Noah. I was startin