All Chapters of From His Rejection to His Uncle’s Obsession : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Veda’s POV The sunlight didn't warm the morning after the gala; it just made the gray coastal fog look like frosted glass against my bedroom windows.I stood at the top of the grand staircase, my fingers lightly resting on the cold iron railing. I wore a simple, dark wool dress today, the fabric soft against my skin, but my neck still carried the deep, bruised violet punctures of Rowan’s mating mark. The skin was tender, a constant, throbbing reminder of the territorial claim he had made before the entire district last night.I took my first step down the marble risers, and the strangeness hit me immediately.Two high-ranking enforcers were standing near the landing, their tactical gear clicking as they reviewed a set of border manifests. The moment my boots touched the stone, their conversation died a sudden, violent death. They didn't just stop talking; they stepped back. Both of them synchronized their movements, pulling their bodies tight against the wood-paneled wall, their head

Black armored SUVs and sleek transport vessels choked the winding coastal roads of the Kingsley perimeter, their engines roaring like a mechanical invasion through the gray winter fog. Security checkpoints hummed with high-frequency static as Marcus’s enforcers cross-referenced the genetic manifests of every arriving delegate. The quiet sanctuary of the olive groves was completely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy pressure of a hundred arriving predators all vying for dominance before the first official session even convened.I stood on the second-story balcony of the reception wing, my fingers digging into the cold stone balustrade. Down in the courtyard, visiting Alphas and delegates started arriving, their heavy tactical boots clacking loudly against the wet gravel. The air was thick, choked by a toxic cocktail of competing alpha musks, sour adrenaline, and the sharp, freezing ozone of the Capital’s high nobility."They aren't even inside the foyer yet, and they're already

Marcus’s question followed me into the night.The words echoed in my skull like a rhythmic drumming as I walked down the dim, vaulted corridor of the executive wing. What happens if someone actually takes her from you? The silent house was draped in heavy shadows, the cool mountain air blowing through the stone arches doing nothing to clear the toxic, pressurized friction lingering in my chest.I couldn't answer honestly.To give that question a voice was to admit that the fortress I had built over forty years of bloodshed had a terminal flaw. My tactical mind, usually so cold and clinical, completely locked up at the mere mental image of an empty master berth. I couldn't form a secondary plan. I couldn't calculate a standard retaliation strategy. The machine that had ruthlessly governed the Enforcer division simply ceased to function when faced with the prospect of her absence.I pushed the heavy oak door of the master bedroom open, my boots making no sound against the thick Persian

I smoothed the heavy charcoal silk of my skirt as the double doors of the grand ballroom swung open, revealing the glittering opulence of the summit banquet.The air inside was already thick and pressurized, saturated with a dangerous mix of high-born alpha musks, expensive vintage wines, and the underlying tension of sixty rival pack leaders. Massive crystal chandeliers cast a sharp, icy glow over the long banquet tables, where silver cutlery clinked against fine porcelain like a rhythmic countdown.I walked into the space with my arm hooked securely around Rowan’s forearm, my heart slamming a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs. The high, structured collar of my jacket kept the left side of my neck completely bared to the room. The jagged, dark violet punctures of Rowan’s mating mark stood out against my pale skin, a beautiful, violent declaration of absolute ownership that instantly drew every eye in the pavilion."They're watching you like hawks, little wolf," Rowan murmured,

The private glass conservatory at the rear of the lower gallery parlor was completely dark, save for the weak amber glow of a solitary iron lamp. The heavy scent of wet earth and winter orchids hung thick in the air, but the space felt utterly frozen, trapped in a breathless stillness. He stood with his back to the arched entryway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a tailored, dark velvet coat that looked far too heavy for his slumped shoulders.I stepped into the conservatory, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floorboards. My fingers instinctively drifted to the high, open collar of my charcoal silk jacket, touching the raw, thrumming punctures of Rowan’s mating mark. The skin was hot, a localized fever that constantly leaked his protective rain-and-ash musk into my system, anchoring my racing heart.Julian turned around the second the stone echoed, and my breath caught in my throat.The pristine, arrogant Crown Prince who had discarded me at the Palace was entir