All Chapters of Claimed By My Mate's Uncle: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

 The first pale, silvery light of dawn was beginning to bleed through the arched stained-glass windows when Rosalie arrived in her private wing. The grand chamber was just as she had left it six months ago, the massive canopy bed draped in heavy dark velvet, the stone hearth crackling with a fresh, roaring fire, and the familiar scent of dark cedar and dried lavender filling the air.Shane and Griat took their positions outside the heavy oak doors, their steel blades drawn, creating an impenetrable barrier against the outside world.Yet, despite the softness of the silk sheets and the warmth of the hearth, sleep was an impossible luxury. Rosalie paced the length of the room, her hand resting over her protruding stomach, her mind spinning in violent circles. The image of Samantha’s bloodied body, the memory of the fake balcony vision, and the terrifying knowledge that a killer was wa

 A collective gasp rippled through the gathered ranks, but not a single warrior dared disobey the command of the Alpha King. The synchronized sound of iron breastplates clanking, heavy leather pauldrons tearing free, and steel buckles snapping open echoed up into the vaulted stone ceilings like a barrage of distant thunder. Within moments, nearly two hundred elite guards had stripped away their protective outer armor, standing in thin gray linen tunics and bare, exposed chests under the pale morning light filtering through the high stained glass.Dominic descended the stone steps of the dais with slow, deliberate authority, flanked closely by Garrett, Alam, and Killian. Their gazes were cold and predatory, scanning every throat, every shoulder, every wrist, and every inch of bare skin for the violent, bloody gouges Samantha had left behind in her dying moments.

The morning mist hung over the Northern valley like a heavy, suffocating shroud, dampening the sound of hooves striking cold river stone. High above, the jagged black peaks of the Whispering Crags clawed at a pale, sunless sky, marking the treacherous boundary where the wolf territories bled into the ancient, untamed Southern wildlands.Killian pulled the hood of his dark leather cloak lower over his brow, his golden-brown eyes sharply scanning the dense thicket of pines framing the narrow mountain pass. Beside him, Alam rode with silent, fluid posture, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his curved blade. Both horses snorted softly, their white breath plumes mingling with the frigid mountain air."We are off the official court maps now," Killian said quietly, his raspy voice barely carrying over the distant howl of the mountain wind. "The King’s authority ends at the riverbed. P

 The heavy oak doors of the war study were thrown wide as Dominic stormed down the eastern gallery, a terrifying storm of golden Alpha aura crackling around his massive frame. Behind him, Garrett and Killian sprinted with drawn broadswords, their boots striking the polished marble like rapid gunfire. Down the grand corridor, the high-pitched, agonized groan of the violet shockwave still resonated off the high stone arches, sending waves of panic through the assembled ranks of the vanguard. "The eastern wing!" Dominic roared, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceilings like a thunderclap. "Isolate the corridor! No one leaves this wing!" Up ahead, near the high stained-glass archway overlooking the inner courtyard, a cluster of heavily armored guards had broken formation. Whispering loudly and clutching their weapons, they swarmed around a figure who had collapse

The high doors of the King’s private bedchambers were slammed shut against the frantic noise reverberating throughout the Amber Court. Outside, heavy boots thundered down the corridors as Garrett’s vanguard enforced an immediate, uncompromising lockdown. Inside, the chamber was a tempest of raw panic and suffocating dread.Rosalie lay motionless on the massive, velvet-draped poster bed, her face drained of all color, her skin cold as mountain river stone. Her dark velvet gown had been cut away at her throat by the head healer, revealing blue, swollen veins tracing a terrifying web down her neck toward her chest. Her breaths were faint, ragged gasps that rattled softly in her throat, each one weaker than the last.Three senior court healers hovered over her side, their hands trembling so violently that silver vials of moon-lily oil and powdered dragon-root clattered uselessly agains