Todos los capítulos de Loving His Sigma Mate: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Damien's POVI force the heel of my palm hard against the wood of the map table, leaning down until the grain presses into my skin.The scratching noise of the pencil in my hand is the only sound in the war room. I draw another thick line across the northern border sector, marking the perimeter where the scent broke off into nothingness.’We are wasting time with ink,’ Voss growls, his voice scraping low and jagged against the inside of my skull. ’The trail is cold here. We should be tearing up the dirt on the ridge.’“The ink keeps the map accurate,” I say aloud, my voice flat in the empty room. “And the ridge gave us nothing. We swept it twice.”’Liar,’ Voss snaps, his presence pressing

Damien's POVThe council chamber smells, like it always does when my father has called for a meeting that nobody wanted. It is the particular scent of old dust and the sweat of men who know better than to say no to Alpha Dexter.I stand near the corner, partly concealed by the shadows, my arms crossed while I watch the elders arrange themselves around the long stone table. Everyone is careful about how they move, speak, and everything else when Alpha Dexter is in the room. I have been watching them make these small calculations my whole life and still I cannot always predict which direction they will cut to avoid scrutiny.My father takes the head seat. He does not sit so much as settle, he rests his hands flat on the cold surface, fingers slightly curled and does not speak immediately. He looks at their faces, he is always looking at fa

Brie's POVThe omegas’ pity is almost worse than their envy.They stand in a tight circle near the scullery door, whispering behind wet dishrags and greasy aprons.Mabel drops a wooden spoon and it hits the stone floor with a sharp crack.“She has to wear the white wool,” Mabel mutters, her voice barely a breath. “The old one with the frayed hem. They want her to look small.”“I am right here,” I say.My voice sounds flat, like cold dishwater. Mabel flinches and looks away. None of them want to catch my eye today.Being chosen by the Alpha is a death sentence wrapped in velvet, and everyone knows it.

Damien's POVI leave the courtyard with the taste of her fear still sharp in my mouth. Brie’s words sit under my skin like burrs. She thinks I hunted and bullied her and I wanted the same thing my father wanted.The great hall still hums with voices and the smell of spilled ale. I cut through it without slowing down.Warriors glance up and grin. I ignore them.The study door stands half open with light spilling across the stone floor. I push it wider.My father sits behind the heavy oak desk, a glass of dark liquor in one hand. My brother, Lixas, leans against the bookcase, his arms folded, watching everything with that quiet calculation he never bothers to hide.My father looks up. “There

Brie’s POV“Brie,” the head matron says, her voice sharp enough to cut through wool, pointing a thick finger toward the inner doors.“Go pack your things. You’re moving.”I count the doors we pass. One, two, three, four... Each one locked, each a room I can’t reach.My boots press against the cold stone floor while the guards wait by the archway. Counting keeps me from panicking. It pushes the fear down to where I store things I can’t afford to feel.Mabel steps out from behind a stack of washing tubs, her eyes wide and wet in the flickering candlelight.“Where are they taking you?” she whispers, clutching my sleeve.“I guess it will be closer to his rooms,” I answer, my voice flat, like a dead branch snapping underfoot.“Yes... it will be down the long hall, past the armory,” Matron