All Chapters of Forbidden by the Triplet Alphas: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The footsteps grew louder. Cassian pulled me behind him, his body a shield between me and the darkness beyond the balcony. His hand was already on the first wolf's blade, the steel catching the moonlight. The bond screamed with warning—sharp, urgent, clawing at the edges of my consciousness. I felt Theron and Lysander racing through the manor, their hearts pounding, their claws extended, their breaths ragged. The sound was not from the forest. It was from the courtyard below. Torches flared. Wolves shouted in confusion and alarm. And a voice, cold and familiar, cut through the night like a blade. You did not think you could celebrate while my pack burns? Cassian's grey eyes went wide. His grip on my arm tightened. "That voice—" he started. But the voice was not Marcus. It was not the king. It was a woman. I had heard it before, years ago, in the northern territories when the packs had gathered to judge us. Alpha Freya's successor. The wolf who had taken her wolves north to hold

The fortress swallowed him whole.Theron ran through the open doors, his wolf form shedding shadows, his claws scrabbling on the black stone floor. The air was cold, thick with the smell of old blood and older grief—centuries of death soaked into every crack. Torches burned with blue flame along the walls, casting no heat, only an eerie light that made the shadows writhe like living things. His paws left no prints on the stone, and his breath plumed in front of him, freezing mid-air and falling to the ground in tiny crystals.Behind him, he heard Cassian's boots, Lysander's quiet breathing, Iris's arrow notched and ready. But he did not wait for them. He could not. Ravenna was somewhere in this place, and the bond was pulling him forward like a fish on a line—thin, desperate, but unmistakable. Down a long corridor lined with skulls. Through an archway carved with symbols that seemed to move when he looked at them. Into a great hall that took his breath away.The walls were lined with

The ride back to Blackwood Manor took three days.Cassian did not sleep. He rode at the front, his grey eyes fixed on the horizon, the first wolf’s blade across his lap. His back was straight, his jaw tight, but I saw the cracks—the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking, the way his gaze drifted to the wagon where Lysander lay. He had not eaten. He had not spoken more than a few words. The bond hummed with his fear, a cold, constant pressure against my chest.Theron was too weak to shift. His throat was wrapped in bandages stained yellow with salve, and his voice had been reduced to a whisper that cracked and faded after a few words. He rode in the wagon beside Lysander, his hand resting on his brother’s chest, feeling the slow, steady heartbeat. His eyes were hollow, the gold gone, replaced by a grey that matched the sky.Lysander lay unconscious, the dark dagger clutched in his hands. His honey eyes were closed, his face pale as ash. The dagger’s blade was dark,

The darkness did not take the pack.Cassian's blade cut through the first wave, the first wolf's steel singing as it severed shadow from shadow. Each swing sent black mist scattering, but more shadows rose to take their place. Theron fought beside him, his claws extended, his gold eyes blazing, though his throat was still wrapped in bandages and his voice was gone. Blood seeped through the white cloth, but he did not stop. He could not stop.Lysander stood at the edge of the fissure, the dark dagger in his hand, its blade pulsing with pale blue light—not dead, only sleeping, and now waking. The light pushed back the darkness, giving the pack room to flee.Iris had gotten the children out. The old wolves, the wounded, the omegas—all of them were streaming through the gates, fleeing into the forest, toward the human towns, toward anywhere the darkness could not reach. I heard their footsteps fading, their cries growing distant. They were safe. For now.But the darkness was everywhere.I

The cave was silent after the light faded.My mother was gone. The king was bound. The ice had melted, and the tomb was empty. I knelt on the cold stone, my hands pressed against the floor where her body had dissolved into light, where the dagger had pierced her heart and she had crumbled like ash. The stone was warm beneath my palms, as if her warmth still lingered. I stayed there, breathing in the dust of her sacrifice, the ghost of her scent—lavender and old paper and something else, something I had forgotten.Cassian held me, his arms warm around my shoulders, his heartbeat steady against my back. He did not speak. He did not tell me it would be all right. He simply held me, and that was enough.Theron stood at the entrance, his gold eyes wet, his throat still wrapped in bandages. A single tear slipped down his cheek, cutting a path through the grime of the mountain. He did not wipe it away.Lysander leaned against the wall, the dark dagger dark again, its power spent. His grey ey