All Chapters of The Alpha’s Forbidden Coyote Mate: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Maryelle’s POV The council chamber emptied slowly, the echo of footsteps fading into the marble corridors. I lingered, my pulse still sharp from the queen mother’s words. Return home to Falls Quaker. The suggestion had been wrapped in maternal concern, but I knew whose hand had guided it. Bailey’s. Her smile had been too polished, her timing too precise. Phantom’s rebuttal still rang in my ears. His voice had cut through the chamber like steel: She belongs here, with me. He hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t pleaded. He had spoken with the kind of calm authority that silenced the room. Even his mother had faltered. Bailey’s mask had remained flawless, her humility rehearsed, her compromise—perhaps a letter to ease their minds—delivered with silk that hid the daggers aimed at me. I felt the weight of Phantom’s hand at my back as we walked together down the corridor. His touch was grounding, steady, but I could feel the tension in him, the way his jaw remained tight, the way his sil

Bailey’s POV The garden was supposed to be mine. Every angle, every whisper, every pawn carefully placed. Yet Phantom’s devotion to Maryelle had turned my strategy into an epic failure. Lola’s humiliation still clung to the air, her desperate tug at her dress echoing in my mind like a slap. I had told her to distract him, to make Maryelle feel invisible. Instead, she had made herself look foolish—and worse, laughable. I couldn’t breathe in the palace corridors after that. The walls pressed in, the whispers of servants carried judgment I couldn’t bear. So I slipped away, down the hidden stairwell that led beneath the east wing, where shadows gathered and secrets thrived. The stairwell was thick with shadow, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone and secrecy. My favorite rogue and guilty pleasure, Kane, was waiting. He always was. Leaning against the stone wall, his dark eyes gleamed with amusement, his posture relaxed, dangerous. A rogue by trade, a lover by choice, he was t

Bailey’s POV The candlelight flickered across the parchment, shadows dancing like conspirators on the walls. Kane sat opposite me, his grin sharp and devious, while Lola hovered nervously near the door, wringing her hands. The ink bled slowly from my quill, each stroke deliberate, venom disguised as elegance. The letter had to be perfect. Not too obvious, not too vague. Just enough to plant doubt in Phantom’s mind, to make Maryelle’s loyalty look fractured, to make him question the very foundation of their bond. “Read it again,” Kane murmured, his voice low, dangerous. I did. Every word dripped with suggestion, carefully crafted to sound like Lucian’s hand. A confession of meetings that never happened, promises whispered in shadows, hints of a bond Maryelle had supposedly hidden. It wasn’t just a lie—it was worse. It was a mistruth twisted into poison. Kane leaned back, satisfied. “That will do it. He’ll see it, and he’ll believe it. He won’t be able to help himself.” Lola s

Bailey’s POV The palace was alive with whispers. Servants scurried through the halls, their voices hushed but urgent, carrying fragments of the storm that had erupted in Phantom’s chambers. I didn’t need to hear every word to know what had happened—the forged letter had struck exactly where I wanted. Maryelle’s fury. Phantom’s jealousy. Their voices raised, echoing down corridors. The sound of a door slamming. The silence that followed. I smiled to myself, slow and deliberate. The poison had taken root. The corridors seemed brighter, sharper, as if the palace itself was aware of the fracture I had created. Every servant’s glance carried curiosity, every hushed tone carried speculation. They didn’t know the details yet, but they knew something had broken. And that was enough. Later, in the hidden stairwell beneath the east wing, Kane leaned against the wall, his grin sharp as a razor. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with hunger. I shoved him against the wall a

Phantom’s POVThe chamber door slammed shut behind her, the echo reverberating through my chest like a death knell. The sound lingered, cruel and resonant, as though the palace itself had conspired to remind me of my failure. Silence followed, but silence was never merciful. It pressed against my ears, suffocating, until all I could hear was the brittle edge of her voice. Do not touch me. Don’t you dare come near me. Her footsteps faded into the corridor, swallowed by distance, yet her words clung to me like a curse. I stood frozen, candlelight flickering across the walls, shadows stretching long and jagged like claws. The air was thick with betrayal, heavy enough to choke. My hands trembled, reaching for a girl who was no longer there. Maryelle’s tears had carved into me deeper than any dagger, and the sight of her fleeing—refusing to look back—left me gutted, hollow, undone. The servant woman planted in the chamber bowed again, murmuring apologies, her voice a distant hum I bare