Todos os capítulos de MARKED BY MY ALPHA'S FATHER: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

The splintering scream of the iron gates echoed off the jagged stone walls of the keep like a death knell. For weeks, the Silver Ridge pack had prepared for siege, but no one was truly ready for the visual horror of the vanguard currently stepping through the smoking ruins of their defenses. The heavy iron-reinforced wood that had stood for three generations lay shattered into black splinters, still smoldering with an unnatural, greenish-purple oil that hissed against the stone. ​Elena stood frozen for a single heartbeat, her hand locked in Marcus’s. The contrast between them was stark, yet entirely unified. The link between them was a heavy pressure in the air—an invisible, iron-strong tether of golden-silver Alpha dominance that rippled outward, forming a psychic perimeter that made the air around the courtyard buckle. ​But as the heavy smoke from the blast cleared, the courtyard did not fill with the usual roaring, chaotic frontline of the Blood Moon pack’s warrior wolves. ​I

Devon took a slow step forward, the shattered glass covering the stone floor groaning and snapping beneath his heavy leather boots. Every tiny movement looked like a monumentally agonizing battle against gravity itself. His left shoulder was visibly dislocated, the bone jutting out at an unnatural, grotesque angle beneath his torn, blood-soaked leather tunic, but his right arm remained wrapped around the wicker travel basket like an unbreakable vise. The willpower required to keep that grip steady while his body screamed in agony was written in the deep lines etched across his forehead. "Take him," Devon rasped, his voice cutting through the howling wind that danced maliciously through the ruined room. He carefully extended his good arm, presenting the heavy basket to Elena with a trembling hand that threatened to give out at any second. Elena lunged forward, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hook her fingers through the braided handles. She scooped baby Silas out of

Elena collapsed forward, her shield shattering into a thousand pieces of glittering dust. She clutched Silas tightly to her chest as a sudden spasm wracked her entire body. Beneath her pale skin, her veins began to pulse with a faint, dangerous fire that she could no longer control. Down in the main courtyard, the world had descended into a synchronized nightmare of blood, fur, and iron. The air was thick with the copper stench of fresh spills and the suffocating odor of sulfur left behind by the shattered iron gates. The Silver Ridge pack house, once a symbol of unyielding territory, was now a chaotic battleground illuminated only by the erratic orange glow of burning barricades and the silver flashes of the moon overhead. Marcus was a whirlwind of black fur and claws, a force of nature driven by primal dominance. In his massive, midnight-black wolf form, he was twice the size of any rogue on the field, a towering shadow of destruction. His thick fur was heavily matted with the bl

The blistering heat radiating from Elena’s skin was turning the air inside the ruined nursery into an inescapable furnace. The smell of scorched silk mixed with the acrid scent of burning flesh as the volatile fire continued to feed on her inner wolf. Her veins pulsed visibly against her throat, bright and erratic, like cracked glass holding back an explosion of liquid starlight. "Marcus, please..." Elena choked out, her vision fracturing into blinding shards of white and gold. She pulled baby Silas tighter against her shoulder, using her last ounce of physical strength to tilt her torso away from the child. "Take Silas. You have to... you have to take him before I break." "No," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a harsh, unyielding frequency that brooked absolutely no argument. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle leapt in his cheek. "I am not leaving you, Elena. And I am not letting you burn." Marcus shifted fully back into his human form, naked to the waist, his broad ch

The small cylinder of brittle parchment rolled across the blood-stained stone floor, its edges fraying as it bumped against the heavy leather of Marcus’s boot. A heavy silence slammed into the medical wing, instantly dampening the bright morning sunlight that streamed through the arched windows. ​Devon remained on one knee, his right hand still frozen in the air where he had just been holding the ceremonial dagger. His eyes tracked the rolled parchment with a look of bewilderment, his brow furrowing into deep, painful lines. ​Marcus didn't move for a full three seconds. His eyes, swirling with the newly absorbed celestial fire, locked onto the ancient script visible on the outermost layer of the parchment. The veins along his forearms pulsed with a low, dangerous light, reacting to the sudden spike of tension in his dominant Alpha core. ​Slowly, deliberately, Marcus leaned down. His large fingers picked up the brittle cylinder with immense care, as if he were handling a live expl