All Chapters of The Untamed Matriarch : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I turn to look at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. “Did your Alpha just smack my ass?”A few hours later, Sierra is putting the finishing touches on my hair. I groan as she pins the final silver clip into place, sealing the style with a mist of holding spray. My entire scalp aches; every strand has been tugged, curled, and manipulated to fit the "Lunar Princess" aesthetic.The result is a masterpiece of high-society wolf craft. My hair is swept up in elaborate, shimmering coils that leave my neck exposed—a vulnerable, yet defiant statement in a room full of predators."You’re divine," Sierra says, leaning in so our reflections overlap. She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before thumbing a smudge of mahogany lipstick off my skin. "Absolutely lethal."I stand and let her guide me into the charcoal-shimmer cocktail dress she’s selected. The fabric has a subtle, iridescent sheen, like a wolf's coat under a full moon. It skims off my shoulders and cuts high on my thighs—far more

At some point, something claws at the back of my dress—a sharp, desperate tug—but then the pressure vanishes.When we hit the edge of the redwood cathedral, I risk a single glance over my shoulder. A dark shape lies motionless on the grass behind me—the wolf who had tried to claim me.Mason is about halfway between us and the club, retreating with a predator's grace, his silver-plated sidearm barking as he drops the shadows lunging from the ballroom. Suddenly, he falters. His hand snaps to his upper arm, and even from here, I can scent the sudden metallic tang of Alpha blood."Julian!" I scream, my pace breaking as I try to spin back toward the carnage."Keep moving, Rowan!" Julian bellows, his fingers digging into my palm like talons as he yanks me forward."But your father—""He gave a direct order! Do not look back!"I hesitate for a heartbeat, but the choice is stripped away as Julian’s strength forces me onward. I follow him blindly, my breath hitching in my chest like a trapped

Mason leaves a wake of static and suppressed growls as he storms toward the Alpha’s den. High-ranking enforcers and sub-alphas press themselves against the glass walls of the hallway, tracking his scent with wide, panicked eyes. As I step tentatively into the brutalist foyer, I see Julian descending the stairs, his movements stiff. He catches my gaze, his brow furrowed."What set him off?" he breathes, the scent of his anxiety sharp. Before I can find the words to explain the slip about the cousins, Mason erupts from his office, his presence so heavy it feels like the oxygen has left the room."Both of you," he snarls, his voice vibrating in the floorboards. "Up to your quarters. Now.""Father," Julian says, taking another step down, his palms open in a gesture of peace—an Omega’s plea to an Alpha’s rage. "Let me help—""I said upstairs!" Mason bellows. The sound is a physical blow. Julian and I both flinch, the primal urge to submit hitting us like a wave. I scramble toward Julian, m

"Whatever you decide," Victor says, his voice a low rumble as he keeps his heavy hand on my shoulder. "Just know the offer stands. The North remembers its own."He glances toward the heavy oak door again, his nostrils flaring as if scenting the hall for Mason’s approach. "I should leave before the High Alpha decides my presence is a territorial provocation. Unless..." He shifts, his eyes burning with a sudden, sharp intensity. "Do you have anything for me to carry back to our lands? A message? A... token?"I blink, my heart stuttering. My mind flashes to the desk upstairs—to the cryptic verse taped beneath the drawer. The silver wren."No," I say, the word tripping off my tongue a fraction too fast. I reach up, twisting a lock of hair around my finger until it hurts. "Um, no. I have nothing to give you. Not... not today, at least.""Very well, little wolf," he murmurs, leaning down to press a dry kiss to my forehead. He pats my cheek with a calloused hand and strides out, his heavy bo

I see his jaw tighten, but before he can utter a word, his gaze drops to the heavy obsidian-and-diamond engagement ring on my left hand—the Cross family heirloom. With a predatory grace, he unlatches my hands, sliding the band off my finger and vanishing it into his pocket.The silence of the cellar is heavy, but a jagged retort cuts through it before I can stop myself."What’s the matter, Mason?" I ask, my voice a low, dangerous silk. "Can't bring yourself to break me while wearing your dead wife’s mark? Does the ghost of Evelyn make your conscience itch?"The air in the room screams. I’m staggered by my own tongue. Who is this woman?He flinches—a microscopic hitch in his Alpha composure—but his eyes remain a terrifying, calm gold. "That's enough, Rowan," he says, his voice like grinding stones. "I am the one holding the leash here. I ask. You answer."He folds his arms. I don’t blink. I don't move an inch."That parchment," he says, the words clipping the air. "What is it?""I don'