All Chapters of Forbidden by the Triplet Alphas: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

108 Chapters

Soren's Confession

The fortress walls trembled at dawn.Not from the king's magic. From hooves. Hundreds of them, pounding against the frozen earth, growing louder with each passing second. The ground vibrated beneath my feet, and dust trickled from the ceiling of the chamber. Cassian was at the entrance before the first rider crested the hill, his grey eyes sharp, the first wolf's blade already in his hand. Theron shifted beside him, his wolf form bristling, his fur standing on end, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Lysander raised the dagger, its blade still dark from the poison, pulsing weakly in his grip like a dying heartbeat.I stood in the center of the chamber, the crown heavy on my head, the shadow in my blood pulsing with warning. The souls inside me stirred—my mother's fear, sharp and cold; Kaelen's caution, a steady hand on my shoulder; Seraphine's ancient knowledge, whispering that something was coming. Something that was not the king.The riders poured into the clearing around the fortr

Iris’s Secret

The darkness did not last.When the light returned, the king was gone. The shadow wolves were gone. The only evidence they had ever been there was Soren’s body, crumpled on the stone floor, his neck bent at an angle that meant he would never rise again. His amber eyes were still open, staring at nothing, and a thin line of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth. The fortress was silent, the gold light flickering weakly along the carved walls, as if the ancient magic itself was wounded.Cassian knelt beside Soren’s body. His grey eyes were hard, his jaw tight, but his hands were gentle as he closed the beta’s eyes and pressed his palm to his chest.“He died for us,” Cassian said. His voice was low, rough. “After everything—the betrayal, the lies, the years of serving Marcus—he died for us. He died trying to protect you.”Theron shifted back to human form. His face was pale, his hands shaking. The shift had been hurried, painful, and there were still scrapes on his shoulders from wh

The Rogue Army

The ride back to the fortress was silent.The box containing the first wolf's heart was strapped to my saddle, its dark wood pulsing faintly with pale blue light that matched the rhythm of my heartbeat. The crown pressed against my temples, heavy and insistent, a weight I had grown used to but never accepted. The name of the king burned on my tongue, waiting to be spoken again, a coal I could not swallow. Cassian rode beside me, his grey eyes scanning the forest for threats, his hand never leaving the hilt of the first wolf's blade. Theron ranged ahead, his wolf form cutting through the trees, his dark fur blending with the shadows. Lysander brought up the rear, the dagger dark at his belt, his honey eyes watchful.None of us spoke. There was nothing left to say. We had the weapon. We knew the cost. Now all that remained was to choose.We reached the fortress as the sun set.The gold light welcomed us, but it was dimmer than before, as if the fortress itself was tired. The walls seeme

A Siege Begins

The fortress walls held, but barely.After Marcus's shadow crumbled and the rogue army dissolved into mist, we had spent hours counting the wounded and burying the dead. The stone floor of the outer chamber was slick with blood—black blood from the shadow wolves, red blood from our own. Theron's arm was bandaged where a rogue's claws had raked him. Cassian had a gash across his ribs that he refused to let Lysander tend. I had cuts on my hands, my arms, my face, but I did not feel them.Soren's body lay in a shallow grave beneath an old oak at the edge of the clearing, marked with a stone that bore no name. Cassian had spoken the words over the grave, his voice flat, his grey eyes dry. He had died a traitor and been buried as a wolf. That was the best any of us could offer.The gold light of the fortress flickered like a dying candle in a strong wind. The symbols carved into the walls had dimmed to a faint glow, barely visible in the shadows. In some places, the stone had cracked, thin

Blood on Blackwood Ground

The king rose from the fissure like a mountain breaking through the earth.His body was immense, taller than any wolf I had ever seen, taller than the walls of the fortress, his head nearly brushing the cracked ceiling. His skin was the color of old ash, stretched tight over bones that seemed too sharp, too ancient. His eyes were the color of fresh blood, and they blazed with a hunger that had no end. His crown of thorns gleamed with dark light, and each thorn dripped with something that looked like liquid shadow, sizzling where it touched the stone floor. His hands were claws, his feet were talons, and his mouth was full of teeth that had been sharpened by centuries of feeding on grief.The gold light of the fortress was gone. The symbols on the walls had gone dark. The only light came from the stone heart, still floating in the air above the fissure, pulsing in rhythm with the king's heartbeat, in rhythm with my own. The air was cold, so cold that my breath froze mid-exhale and fell

Ravenna’s Choice

The whiteness did not fade.It swallowed the fortress, the king, the frozen bodies of my mates. It swallowed the stone heart, the crown, the shadow in my blood. I was alone in the light, floating, falling, neither here nor there. The crown was gone from my head. The shadow was silent in my blood. The bond was quiet—so quiet that I could not tell if my heart was still beating. I reached for it—for Cassian, for Theron, for Lysander—and found nothing. Only silence. Only light.Then the light parted.I was standing in a field. Grass, green and soft, rolled toward a horizon I could not reach. The sky was blue, cloudless, endless. The air smelled of summer and wildflowers and something else—something that reminded me of my mother's garden, of the manor before the shadow, of a time when I had been only a wolf and nothing more. I felt no pain here. No fear. Only a strange, heavy peace.A woman stood before me. Her hair was dark, her eyes honey gold, her smile sad. She wore a crown of thorns,

The Lycan’s Demand

The fissure closed behind me.Stone ground against stone, the sound echoing through the chamber like a final heartbeat. The gold light of the fortress vanished, swallowed by the darkness that rose from the crack. I was falling—not through air, but through shadow, through memory, through the screams of wolves who had been consumed by the king over centuries. Their faces flashed past me, pale and distorted, their mouths stretched wide in silent pleas. Some I recognized from the old texts—the first wolf's companions, her guards, her children. Others were strangers, their eyes hollow, their bodies thin, their hands reaching for me as I fell past them.Then I stopped.I was standing in a hall made of shadow. The walls were smooth, black, pulsing with dark light that moved like breath. The ceiling was lost in darkness, and the floor was cold beneath my bare feet—so cold that I felt it in my bones, in my teeth, in the scar over my heart. My crown was gone. The Kingslayer was gone. The first

Bargaining with a Monster

The light did not last.I had expected it to carry me upward, back to the fortress, back to my mates. I had imagined Cassian's arms around me, Theron's fierce joy, Lysander's quiet tears. I had imagined the bond blazing back to life, four heartbeats finding their rhythm again. Instead, the light flickered, dimmed, and died. The shadow returned—not the hungry, writhing shadow of the king, but a still, quiet darkness that pressed against my skin like cold water. I was alone in an empty void, standing on nothing, surrounded by nothing.You thought it would be that easy?The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It was not the king's voice. It was softer, older, feminine. It echoed in my bones, in the scar over my heart, in the empty space where the crown had sat.I turned. A woman stood behind me. Her hair was white, long, floating around her as if she were underwater. Her eyes were black, depthless, the same black that had filled the king's eyes, that had filled Lorna's eyes, that had

Cassian’s Proposal

The days after the dream blurred into weeks. I woke each morning in the master suite, surrounded by warmth—Cassian on one side, his arm draped over my waist; Theron on the other, his face buried in my hair; Lysander at my feet, his hand resting on my ankle. The bond hummed, steady and warm, and their faces were familiar, etched into my heart even if the memories remained hidden behind a wall I could not breach. I learned to live with the emptiness. I learned to smile when the pack greeted me in the halls, calling me Luna with voices full of gratitude. I learned to sit at Cassian's side during meals, to laugh at Theron's jokes, to listen to Lysander's quiet observations. I learned to pretend I remembered why I loved them. But Cassian knew. He always knew. He watched me with those grey eyes, patient and sad, his gaze following me through every room. He told me stories of our past—the locked room where we first truly saw each other, the rogue attack in the forest where he carried me b

The Mating Ceremony

The pack prepared for three days.Wolves came from every territory—northern packs that had once doubted me, eastern packs that had lost their alphas to the shadow, scattered wolves who had survived the king's hunger and wanted to witness the union that had ended the war. They arrived in wagons and on horseback, their faces weary but hopeful. Blackwood Manor had not seen such crowds since Marcus's reign, but the atmosphere was different now. No fear. No suspicion. Only celebration.The great hall was decorated with flowers and silver ribbons that caught the firelight. The ancient stones, still scarred from the shadow wolves' attacks, were washed clean of blood and polished until they gleamed. Fires burned in the courtyard, and the smell of roasting meat filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine and wildflowers. Wolves laughed and sang and told stories of the battle—stories I should have remembered but could only borrow from their telling.I stood in the master suite, staring at m

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