Heir Of Rage Mga Nobela at Kwento

But then again, he didn't have expert knowledge on the recent happenings, so he was forced to agree. “They’re calling it Luna’s Wrath,” he continued. “They’re wrong.” A chill slid down my spine. “Then what is it?” Rael stepped closer, voice dropping. “Inheritance.” The word struck harder than any accusation. I laughed once. It was sharp, brittle. “I don’t come from anyone important” He keeps forgetting I'm an orphan. “You don’t know where you come from,” he corrected. The room trembled. Not physically, but inside me. The light flared in response, climbing my arms in thin silver veins.

I managed to ask. “I saw the messages about a year ago,” she interrupted, “And just in case you were hoping I’d let it slide… I destroyed it. Every last sample. No heir. No chance. And the company? Well…” Her voice dropped to a low, “It will slip from your grasp, too.” I staggered back, trying to process her words. My carefully constructed plan, the only hope that I might have an heir, now shattered. “You… what? How…?”

I could feel the energy rolling off him, a controlled storm of possessive satisfaction and simmering rage. Rage at Zeke, at the challenge, at the entire system that had forced me here. I stole a glance at his profile. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead, seeing strategies and threats I could only imagine. This was the real Kai. Not the playboy, not the bully, but the Alpha heir. The general. And he had just declared war for me.

The air stank of Crown wolves and old iron and underneath it all, I caught Lyra’s scent, sharp with fear and fierce with life and the bond pulled me forward like a rope around my heart. I saw her the instant the corridor opened into the main hall. She stood near the far wall in hybrid form, claws out, silver-black fur rippling along her arms, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach. The heir was reacting hard; I could feel it through the bond, a frantic kick of warning that made my own wolf snarl in answer and between us stood the thing that had made her wolf rise. The Heir-Hunter. It was massive, bigger than any natural wolf had a right to be, shoulders thick with muscle, silver eyes g

she whispered, “not a girl who has lied to them her entire life.” “You’re not just a girl,” Kaelen replied, turning to her fully now. The scar across his cheek caught the sunlight, a mark of every battle he had fought in her name. “You are the reason they are still standing. You are the heir of two bloodlines, the bridge between shadows and stars. If you do not claim it, all of this—” He gestured to the ruined citadel, to the broken spears, to the dead still waiting for burial. “—will be for nothing.”

“Holy shit, Lyriana. You’re pregnant with the heir to both thrones. This is more than a scandal. This is a looming war waiting to happen.” I held intensely unto the edges of the windowsill. “I am aware.” “So what do you want to do?” she asked. “I am confused,” I said with a heavy hear. “Well… you better figure it out before someone else does.” She said as I hung up the call. My breath caught in my throat as I reread the letter. Alaric. Here. In the same palace. This was the same man that ruined the world I had. He owns the child I am carrying. He is the heir to Ardonia’s kingdom. Our rival kingdom

I knock the blade from his hand, sending it clattering down the stairs and I pin him against the banister, pressing the edge of my dagger to his throat. “You think you carry Nightwalker blood because of your cursed father?” I hiss back into his mind. “You are nothing, Drake. I carry the blood of the Nightwalker and the Moon Goddess.” His eyes widen. “That makes me the true heir. Lord of all. You were never more than a failed experiment.” His anger shows and his cheeks darken with blood. He is not a true animal of the jungle or he would recognize the king of kings when he saw it.

The rage is too much, too deep, too ancient. It is the rage of a father who lost his son. The rage of a mate who lost his other half. The rage of a protector who would not fail his promise. He tramples over the fallen, his massive paws crushing their bodies into the blood-soaked earth. The rogues scream, but their cries are meaningless. They are nothing but obstacles, nothing but fuel for his fury. He is a hurricane, a wildfire, and they are the kindling. The memories flash through his mind, unbidden and relentless. Jace, his son, his light, torn from him too soon.

Then, another voice, rougher, deeper, the unmistakable growl of a Rogue. "The heir," the Rogue rumbled, his voice heavy with ancient hatred. "You promised the heir. We will take him. The Pack will kneel." Heir? The words were like ice shards, piercing through my pain-induced stupor. They want Rhys's heir? My son? "Patience," the woman's voice purred, closer now, almost as if she were at the dividing wall. "The Alpha has weakened the Pack himself. The Luna is gone. The chosen heir will be returned to his true legacy. I gave my word."

The notary's finger hovered above the keyboard for a moment. "Mrs. Fuzio." He adjusted his glasses, not daring to look straight at me. "The heir next in line needs to be present to confirm his intentions." I was confused. Christian Fuzio was an only child. His parents passed away ten years ago. We were married for 20 years with no children. "What did you say?" Before the notary could reply, the doors opened. When the boy walked in, I didn't even react. That was, until I saw his face.