All Chapters of Rise of the Switched Alpha Queen: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

"I am telling you right now, Briggs, if she tries to play the victim one more time, I will rip her lie apart in front of the entire Alpha council," I growled, my jaw tightening as the phantom burn of my unused claws prickled beneath my fingernails.Briggs Whitlock did not even turn around from the dark wood railing of the Whitlock Moon Suite balcony. The heavy scent of pine and crushed leaves clung to his leather jacket, thick with the possessive, restless energy of a high-ranking wolf whose pack blood was boiling. "You think you are the only one who sees through Tuesday Gilbert? She came back to the Gilbert Pack Estate with tears in her eyes, telling Ford Gilbert that you threatened to banish her from the Mooncrest Pack Roads.""She lied!" I snapped, my voice ringing hard against the timber walls of my bedroom. Being born a full human inside the legendary Whitlock lineage was an endless, bloody trial, but my broad shoulders and heavy, curvy frame carried more stubborn resilience than

“Get over here,” I say, my voice dropping an octave as I hold out a single, thick finger and curl it toward Ford Gilbert.My human heart hammers against my ribs, but I do not let the fear show in my posture. I am plus size, soft, and completely devoid of a wolf spirit, yet I stand tall on the gravel paths near Mooncrest Pack Roads. My curvier, heavy-set body has always made me an easy target for the sleek, muscular shifters of Silverpine City, but they always forget that leverage beats brute pack strength every single time.Ford takes one look at my icy eyes and flinches, remembering how close I came to snapping his wrist back at the Pack Healing Center last week. His boots scrape backward against the loose dirt."Coward," I spit, my voice flat and unimpressed.Before he can process the insult, I bridge the distance between us. My hand shoots out, wrapping around the top of his wolf-eared cartilage, and I twist it down with everything I have. Pain explodes through his nerve endings. F

"How much for the Indian Old Sandalwood?" I ask, my voice flat, cutting straight through the heavy, suffocating silence of the shop.My fingers trace the edge of the glass counter inside Nature's Apothecary. My skin is cool, but beneath my heavy cotton shirt, my pulse is hammering against my collarbone. I am a human—a fat, useless, un-shifted bloodline anomaly to the rest of Silverpine City—and my body is exhausted. Walking from the Mooncrest Iron Gate all the way down into the dark, tangled alleys of Mercer’s Corner Market has left my feet burning inside my boots. My plus-size frame isn't built for endless foot travel, but I don't have the luxury of calling a Gilbert Pack Estate shuttle. Not anymore. Not since Sterling Whitlock pushed his family out of the main seat and forced me to survive on whatever scraps I can carve out with my own hands.The middle-aged shopkeeper behind the desk, Ethan, hesitates. He stares at the small wooden jars laid out on the counter between us."If the i

"Mom, got anything to eat?" I ask, my voice flat, cutting straight through the heavy silence of the living room.I set three massive canvas totes filled with dark glass jars down onto the oak table inside Whitlock Cottage. My skin is slick with sweat, my pulse hammering against my throat. I am a fat, useless, un-shifted human bloodline anomaly to the rest of Silverpine City, and my body is completely exhausted. Walking from the Mooncrest Iron Gate all the way down into the humid alleys of Mercer’s Market has left my feet burning inside my boots. My plus-size frame isn't built for endless foot travel on the pack roads, but I don't have the luxury of calling a Gilbert Pack Estate shuttle. Not since Sterling Whitlock pushed his family out of the main seat and forced me to survive on whatever scraps I can carve out with my own hands.Lorelei Whitlock snaps out of her trance, setting down her phone. "Of course, sweetheart. I saved some warm meat for you. Come and eat before it gets cold."

"Take this box of roast coffee beans with you," Celt Hawkridge says, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence of the private mahogany booth inside Mercer’s Corner Market. He reaches across the dark table, setting the iron-sealed box right beside my hands. "When your father finishes the batch, return here for more."I glance down at the sleek timber casing, my fingers tracing the cold metal latch. "Thanks a bunch."I do not bother with fake modesty. My father, Sterling Whitlock, loves dark roast coffee, and securing top-tier supplies in the Silverpine City territory is nearly impossible for a human family without pack connections. I lift my canvas bag, sliding the box safely inside alongside my ledger."I should get going," I say, pushing back my mahogany chair. My broad frame moves with practiced, quiet grace as I stand. Born a human girl without a single drop of wolf blood in a family of purebred shifters, I have learned to move without drawing unwanted eyes.Celt remains sea