All Chapters of Forbidden by the Triplet Alphas: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

108 Chapters

Two Wolves, One Heart

The morning after the celebration, I woke to warmth.Not the cold of the mountain. Not the chill of the manor's stone walls. The warmth of three bodies pressed against mine, three heartbeats woven into the bond, three pairs of eyes watching me even in sleep.Cassian had his arm draped over my waist, his face buried in my hair. Theron was curled against my back, his breath slow and even. Lysander lay at my feet, his hand resting on my ankle, his honey eyes already open.You are staring again, I whispered.Lysander's lips curved. Always.I smiled and closed my eyes, letting the bond carry me back toward sleep. But the world had other plans.A knock came at the door. Sharp. Insistent.Cassian was awake instantly, his body tensing, his hand reaching for the blade on the nightstand. Theron groaned, pulling the pillow over his head. Lysander rose smoothly, crossing to the door.Sera stood in the hallway, her face grim.There is a problem, she said. The northern packs. They have heard about

The Beta’s Loyalty

The eastern forest fell behind us, but the weight of what I had done lingered in my chest like a stone. Mercy, not vengeance. I had let the rogues live. Some wolves would call it weakness. I called it the only way to break a cycle that had been spinning for centuries.Cassian rode beside me in silence, his grey eyes fixed on the road ahead. His hand rested on his sword hilt, not from fear but from habit. Theron had shifted back to human form and was sprawled across his horse, his dark hair falling across his face, his breathing slow and even. Lysander brought up the rear, the Kingslayer strapped to his back, his honey eyes scanning the shadows.The bond hummed, content for the first time in days. Then a figure emerged from the trees.Cassian’s hand tightened on his sword. Theron sat up, his eyes snapping open. Lysander drew the Kingslayer in a single, fluid motion.But the figure was alone. He was tall, lean, with sharp cheekbones and amber eyes that caught the fading light. He wore t

Silver Creek Hunt

The council gave us seven days to prove ourselves. Seven days to hunt down the remaining rogues, to secure the borders, to show the northern packs that Blackwood was not weak. Seven days before they returned with their judgments and their challenges and their cold, measuring eyes.Cassian stood at the map table in the great hall, his finger tracing the eastern forest where the rogues had been spotted. Theron leaned against the wall, sharpening his claws with a blade. Lysander sat in the window seat, the Kingslayer across his lap, his honey eyes distant.Soren stood at Cassian's right hand. The beta had not slept since the cave. His amber eyes were shadowed, but his posture was steady. He had chosen his side, and he would not waver.The scouts report a pack of at least twenty, Soren said. They are moving north, toward Silver Creek Academy.My blood went cold. Silver Creek. The academy was full of young wolves—students who had never faced a rogue, who had never seen blood spilled. If th

Theron’s Jealousy

The rogues had been housed in the old barracks for three days when the trouble started.It was not the rogues themselves. They were quiet, subdued, grateful for food and warmth. Soren had taken to training them in the mornings, teaching them to fight for Blackwood instead of against it. Even the young one—Roric, the boy who had dropped his weapon first—had begun to smile. He had also begun to look at me with something that made Theron's wolf growl.I noticed it first in the training yard. Roric was sparring with Soren, his movements clumsy but eager. When he landed a blow—his first—he turned to me, seeking approval. His eyes were bright, his smile wide. I nodded, offering a small smile in return. It was nothing. Encouragement, nothing more.Theron's hand tightened on the railing beside me. His knuckles went white.He is just a boy, I said quietly.Theron did not answer. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on Roric.The second time was in the library. I was reviewing the old pack laws wi

Lysander’s Gift

The morning after Theron’s confession, I woke to find Lysander gone.His side of the bed was cold. Not the fading warmth of someone who had risen moments ago—the deep, bone-deep cold of an absence that had lasted hours. The bond was still there, but it was distant, muffled, as if he had wrapped himself in layers of silence and slipped away.Cassian was already awake, standing at the window, his grey eyes scanning the forest below. Theron was sprawled across the foot of the bed, his dark hair tangled, his breathing deep and untroubled. He had slept well for the first time in days.Where is Lysander? I asked.Cassian did not turn. He left before dawn. He said he had something to find.Something to find?A gift, Cassian said. For you.The words unsettled me. Lysander was not impulsive. He did not wander into the forest without purpose. Every movement he made was deliberate, every word chosen with care. If he had gone to find something, it was because he had been planning it for days, per

The Luna's Ball

The invitation arrived on gilded paper, sealed with wax stamped with the crest of the northern packs. Fenris, the old alpha who had challenged us at the council, was hosting a Luna's Ball. A tradition, he called it. A chance for the packs to meet the new Luna, to judge her for themselves.Cassian read the letter aloud in the great hall. His voice was flat, but I felt his tension through the bond.Formal attire, he read. All alphas and their Lunas are expected to attend. The ball will be held at Fenris's estate, three nights from now.Theron snorted from his place by the fire. A trap. It smells like one.Probably, Lysander said. He was sitting in the window seat, the Kingslayer across his lap, his honey eyes distant. But we cannot refuse. If we do not show, they will see it as weakness. The northern packs are already watching us, waiting for us to stumble.I took the letter from Cassian's hand. The paper was thick, expensive, the kind of paper that was meant to impress. Fenris had spen

A Dance with Cassian

The laugh echoed through the great hall, but I did not wait to see the shadow's face again.Cassian's hand was already in mine, pulling me toward the side door. Theron and Lysander followed, their bodies shields against the chaos. Fenris shouted orders, his wolves forming a barrier between us and the darkness spreading from the center of the room. The guests screamed, trampling each other in their rush to escape.We burst into a corridor. Torches flickered on the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for us like grasping fingers. The music had stopped. The laughter was behind us, following, hunting.Where is she? Theron demanded, his claws already extended.Behind us, Cassian said. And ahead. Everywhere. I can feel her in the walls.Lysander pressed the dagger from the chest into my hand. Its blade blazed with pale blue light, pushing back the darkness that crept along the floor. The ring on my finger burned so hot I thought it would scar my skin.We cannot fight her

Ice Melts

The healers left at dawn. Cassian was sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, the color slowly returning to his face. His arm was bound in clean bandages, his ribs wrapped tight, the gash on his forehead closed with silver thread. He looked younger in sleep. Softer. The walls he had spent years building were nowhere to be seen.I sat beside him, my hand resting on his, the bond humming softly. Theron was sprawled on a chaise near the window, his breathing deep. Lysander had gone to speak with Fenris, to smooth over the wreckage of the ball, to assure the northern packs that the shadow was wounded and would not return soon.Cassian's fingers twitched in mine. His eyes opened.Grey. Soft. Tired.You are still here, he said. His voice was rough.I am not going anywhere.He tried to sit up. I pressed him back down.The healers said you need to rest.I have rested enough, he said. But he did not fight me. His hand curled around mine, pulling it to his chest, over h

Lorna Hale's Warning

The morning after the council, a lone rider appeared at the gates of Fenris's estate. I stood at the window of our chamber, watching her approach through the grey drizzle. The horse was lathered with sweat, its ribs showing through its coat. The rider hunched low, her cloak torn, her movements jerky with exhaustion. When she dismounted, her legs buckled. Guards caught her before she fell. The bond hummed with warning before I saw her face.Lorna Hale.Cassian's former betrothed. The woman who had tormented me at Silver Creek Academy. The alpha's daughter who had promised to make my life hell. I had not seen her since Marcus's fall, since the packs scattered, since the shadow first emerged. I had assumed she was dead. Part of me had hoped she was.Soren brought her to the great hall. The northern alphas had dispersed after the council, leaving only Fenris and a handful of guards. The room was cold, the fire low, the shadows long. Lorna looked nothing like the polished princess I rememb

A Rival's Claim

Lorna's body crumpled to the floor.Cassian caught her before she hit the ground, his arms bracing her limp form. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, the black marks on her wrist pulsing faintly. The voice that had spoken through her was gone, but its echo lingered in the air like smoke. Found you. The words crawled under my skin, settling into my bones.Theron was at the door, his claws extended, his eyes scanning the corridor. Lysander stood at the window, the dagger from the chest in his hand, its blade blazing with pale blue light. The bond hummed with tension, every nerve on edge, every wolf in the estate holding their breath.Is she dead? I asked.Cassian pressed his fingers to her throat. No. Her heart is beating. The shadow used her as a conduit. It burned through her. He looked at the black marks spreading up her arm. She does not have much time. Every time the shadow touches her, the corruption spreads.Lysander's voice was quiet, grim. It knows where we are now. It

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