Novel & Cerita Throne Of Wolves.

The energy of a wolf accepting her mate, mixed with the fury of a dragon refusing a master. Thorne cried out. It was a sound of shock and pain. His legs crumpled beneath him as if he’d been struck. He fell to his knees on the stone floor, his hand falling away from my mouth. He stared up at me, his eyes wide with utter confusion and disbelief. He had tried to chain a dragon with wolf’s blood, and instead, he had been brought to his knees. He was breathing heavily, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost. “What… what are you?” he whispered, his voice ragged.

And there, bound in chains black as night, was the wolf. Its eyes opened. Red. Piercing. Burning. The sight carved fear into her bones. Aura. Or something beyond even him. For the first time in centuries, Thorne trembled. The wolf growled—a sound that rattled the dreamscape itself. Chains strained, stones cracked, the earth roared beneath its fury. Thorne staggered, pulling her hand from the oak, gasping as if the world itself had shoved her away. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she held firm, her breath ragged, her heart hammering like war drums.

Their cries pierced the air, each wail twisting a knife deeper into my chest. “Thanos!” I screamed, my voice raw and trembling with fury. “Give me back my pups!” My bare feet pounded against the earth as I ran faster, closing the distance. Thanos didn’t stop. His stride was steady, deliberate, as if my desperate cries meant nothing. The two wolves trailing behind him turned at the sound of my voice, their crimson eyes locking onto me. Their growls echoed through the woods, low and menacing. Their sharp teeth snapped together, the sound chilling in the stillness.

I collapsed forward, gasping. Thorne loomed over me. Too hot of breath on my face, smell stinking. “You will pay for this game, wife,” he made low gravel and pure venom. “I will make sure you do not forget who owns–“ The growl of deafening noise emerged into the shadows out of the lawn. It wasn’t his pack. There came three huge wolves into the silver moonlight--rogues. No collars, no pack smell. Nothing but pure wild, deadly force oozing off them.

“What is that?” But I already knew. I could feel it. Deep inside my blood. The throne. Someone had reached it. And the moment the realization hit….. a pulse of power exploded through the valley. Every wolf below froze. Nightbane. Silver Creek. Rogues. All of them. The force rolled outward like a living storm, ancient authority tearing through the battlefield hard enough to bend wolves to their knees. Including me. Pain shot through my chest as something inside my blood answered the call.

And the throne was no longer just a seat of power. It was a battlefield. I didn’t turn back. The moment I cleared the gates, I let the shift take me. Bone cracked, skin burned, and the world snapped into sharper focus as my wolf tore free. The ground blurred beneath my paws as I ran, faster than thought, following the smell of Thorne and his troops. His scent was everywhere. Blood. Rage. His troops were already there, men who had eaten at the same fires as me. They stiffened when they saw my wolf emerge from the dark.

He shifted, a mighty wolf. Thorne shifted, a mightier wolf. And the battle began.

Chapter 86 Lucien Thorne ~•~ “If both of you are so in love, I hope she has told you the truth about her wolf.” “Wolf? What is the truth?” I muttered. “Ask your girlfriend.” Chloe scoffed bitterly. I turned to Halle. She looked like all the color had drained from her face. Her eyes darted between me and her sister. “What is she talking about?” My voice was low but sharp with confusion. “Are you hiding something from me?”

And as I looked at Thorne, I saw the fire light up in his eyes again, his entire body radiating power. "You hear that?" Thorne’s voice was low, a growl that carried the weight of his anger. "He’s mine. You can’t have him." Varun’s lips curled into a mocking smile. "We’ll see about that." In an instant, he lunged at us, his pack following close behind, their movements swift and lethal. Thorne reacted in a blur, shifting his body with a speed that left me breathless. His hands were everywhere, fending off the wolves with terrifying precision, his strength unmatched.

So he watched them and stayed hidden. Nevertheless, one skinny werewolf appears from nowhere and runs towards the hunters, clawing his way into the back of the massive werewolf, his beta maybe. In a minute, almost half of the hunters lay dead on the snow. The skinny werewolf was suddenly hit in the shoulder by the sword, and he abruptly felt the aftermath of their nemesis. The sword with wolfsbane. Raymond recognized it—a sword with wolfsbane. The nemesis of werewolves and alchemists.