Lahat ng Kabanata ng Marked by My Alpha's Father: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Marcus did not wait for Dr. Craig to finish speaking. With a broken cry, the Alpha King scooped Elena’s freezing body into his arms. He held her crushed tightly against his chest, shielding her pale face from the sulfurous laundry smoke as he sprinted back up the dark stone steps. He moved with a terrifying speed that left the vanguard guards blurred in his wake. He tore through the grand corridors, past the shattered doors of his study, and kicked open the heavy double oak entries to the royal master suite. He laid her down gently on the soft, white furs of the grand four-poster bed. Elena’s head fell back against the pillows, her skin still deathly blue. Her breathing remained a shallow, rattling gasp. Marcus dropped to his knees beside the mattress, his hands trembling violently as he wrapped his scarred fingers around her split hands. He forgot about his warlord pride. He didn't care about his crown. Tears of remorse spilled from his eyes, hot and fast, tracking through the di

The smell of boiling lard and cheap coal smoke mingled with the sharp, toxic tang of Devon’s maddened scent. He stepped over the splintered remains of the kitchen door, his movements jerking like a puppet pulled by broken strings. The copper hair he shared with the Alpha King was matted with grime, and his jaw worked in silent curses. His eyes were no longer human; they were the bloodshot, hollow plates of a wolf that had completely lost its mind to rejection and bloodlust. "Devon, stop," Elena said, keeping her voice level as she took a defensive step backward behind the line of overturned oak tables. Her hand remained protectively cupped over her lower stomach. The tiny, frantic pulse of the unborn child felt hyper-sensitive to the homicidal energy radiating from the boy across the room. "Look at what you are doing. These are the servants who raised you. This is the pack that fed you." "The pack belongs to a tyrant!" Devon screamed, his voice cracking into a hysterical registe

The chaos of the second siege began to fade into a distant, muffled echo. Vanguard warriors flooded the ruined kitchen, their heavy iron shields forming a defensive wall around the room as they pursued the remaining outcasts through the dark tunnels. But at the center of the shattered chamber, the world had shrunk to a small circle of blood-slicked granite. Marcus knelt in the dust, entirely unbothered by his own bleeding flank. His massive hands were drenched in dark blood as he pressed them hard against Thomas’s chest, desperately trying to stop the bright arterial blood pulsing around the embedded broadsword. The Alpha King’s eyes were wide with an uncharacteristic panic. "Stay with me, Thomas," Marcus ordered, his voice cracking into a jagged, broken rasp. He flooded the air with his dominant Alpha frequency, trying to force his old friend’s heart to keep beating. "Craig is coming. Hold on. That is an order, Beta." Thomas let out a wet, bubbling gasp, his lips staining red

The echoes of Marcus's decree of total extermination vibrated through the stone floors of the castle for hours. Upstairs, the royal vanguard was mobilizing with terrifying efficiency. The sound of sharpening iron, the heavy rhythm of marching boots, and the murderous growls of the tracking wolves filled the air. Marcus was no longer a father grieving a broken lineage; he was an executioner preparing to cleanse his kingdom with blood. Elena sat in the dim corner of the auxiliary medical room, her hands tightly clutched over her rounded stomach. The sudden acceleration of her pregnancy was a heavy, physical weight. Hours ago, the tiny pulse had been a faint flutter, but the concentrated power of Marcus’s anchored Alpha core had acted like a catalyst. The royal pup was growing by the minute, drawing heavily on her First Queen bloodline. A profound ache blossomed deep in her pelvis, a warning sign her body was operating on borrowed time. But her mind was locked on a far more terrifying

The darkness of the cave was heavy, cold, and suffocating. Devon stood over Elena, his clawed hands raised, his eyes burning with a psychopathic gold light that turned the stone walls into a nightmare. He looked like a rabid beast ready to tear her to pieces for her betrayal. But as he took a final step forward, intending to drag her back out into the freezing blizzard as a hostage, Elena’s body completely locked up. Another massive labor contraction ripped through her spine. She let out a high, agonizing shriek that echoed off the low ceiling, her head snapping back against the hard granite wall. Her fingers blindly dug into the dry dirt of the cavern floor, her legs shaking violently under the sudden, immense pressure of the birth. Devon froze mid-stride. The unhinged smile slowly faded from his bloody features. He blinked, his eyes tracking the heavy, rhythmic movement of her rounded stomach beneath her torn wool cloak. He caught the sharp, unmistakable scent of amniotic flui