บททั้งหมดของ MARKED BY MY ALPHA'S FATHER: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The Great Hall of Silver Ridge felt like a tomb wrapped in gold. The air was dead, cold, and heavy with the suffocating scent of roasted meat, split wine, and pack tension. Above the long oak table, twelve massive iron chandeliers held thick tallow candles that flickered violently every time the mountain wind rattled the high stone casements. Dozens of Silver Ridge vanguard guards stood like statues along the granite walls, their hands resting flat against the hilts of their unsheathed iron broadswords. Across from them, the elite guards of the Blood Moon pack stood in matching formation, their dark armor catching the orange firelight like dried blood. Elena sat at Marcus’s right hand at the head of the table. Her spine was a rigid line of steel, but beneath the heavy fabric of her ceremonial gown, her fingers were dug so deeply into her own palms that her nails almost broke the skin. Her heart was wild, like a trapped bird, slamming against her ribs with a frantic speed that she de

The Great Hall fell into absolute silence. The three pack elders froze in their tracks, their gray robes rustling softly as they exchanged stunned, wide-eyed glances. Behind them, the vanguard guards looked on with shock written across their scarred faces. No woman in the history of the Silver Ridge pack had ever stood between two Alphas to reject a trial by combat. No one had ever dared to challenge the absolute ownership of the crown. Marcus turned his gaze slowly toward her. The fated-mate bond between them snapped taut, vibrating with his fury and disbelief. His massive chest heaved as he fought to keep his wolf from roaring right into her face. "Elena," Marcus rumbled. "You will step back to the royal dais this instant. You are my fated mate. Your safety belongs to my blade. This is a matter of Alpha honor, and I will not let a boy from the southern swamps insult my crown or lay claim to your flesh." "This is not about your honor, Marcus!" Elena shouted back, standing her g

The sun rose over the jagged peaks of Silver Ridge like a bleeding wound. The Silver Arena was a place carved out of solid bedrock, its perimeter lined with hundreds of razor-sharp spikes tipped in silver to prevent any competitor from escaping the judgment of the combat. Thousands of Silver Ridge warriors packed the stone tiers, their facesgrim and silent. No one cheered. No one spoke. Elena stood at the western entrance of the arena floor, her breath forming small white clouds in the freezing air. She wore a simple, sleeveless tunic made of dark leather, her bare arms and legs exposed to the biting wind. Her fractured wrists had been tightly wrapped in thick canvas linen, offering just enough support to let her close her hands into fists. She felt completely disconnected from the massive crowd. Her focus was entirely turned inward, where the tiny, hyper-fast pulse of her unborn child fluttered beneath her ribs. Stay low, she whispered to her inner wolf, her hand pressing against

Elena turned her head slowly, her heart dropping into a freezing abyss as she looked up toward the royal viewing dais. The glowing silver light of the First Queen bloodline began to recede from her skin, leaving her shivering in the biting mountain wind. She expected to see a flash of relief in Marcus’s face. She expected him to recognize that she had just secured the safety of the entire Silver Ridge pack by forcing Alpha Jax to sign the revocation document. Instead, she was met with a wall of unyielding black ice. Marcus stood at the edge of the stone platform, his massive frame towering over the arena. He looked like an ancient king carved out of dead granite. His dual-colored eyes—one gold, one silver—held no warmth, no pride, and no recognition. They were completely vacant. Through the fated-mate bond, Elena felt a void so vast and hollow it made her head spin. The soul-tether was completely dark. Marcus didn't see a loyal mate who had just risked her life to save him from a ri

Marcus sat behind his obsidian desk, his massive frame hunched forward. For three days, he had lived in an absolute, self-imposed exile of the mind. The black wall of ice he had built through the fated-mate bond was supposed to protect his crown from further betrayal, but instead, it felt like an iron noose tightening around his own throat. “She chose her own freedom,” his inner wolf growled in his head, a restless, miserable frequency that had not stopped roaring since the duel. “She took the poison for Devon. She bartered with Jax. She wanted to leave us.” "She never drank it, Marcus." The oak doors of the study slammed shut with a violent bang. Beta Thomas strode into the room, his leather armor spattered with fresh mountain mud and his face flushed with a dangerous rage. He marched straight into the Alpha King's personal space, throwing a small, clear glass bottle down onto the dark obsidian surface. The glass rolled across the stone, stopping inches from Marcus’s hand. It