Page 104 of Marked By Alphas 2: Claimed

The crimson mist swirled around the battle, growing darker and more substantial with each drop of blood spilled. Its whispers grew more excited, more hungry.More… give us your hatred… your power…

Through my fading consciousness, I watched as the largest Stone wolf—black as midnight—locked jaws with the oldest Blackwood. They rolled across the forest floor, a blur of midnight black and blond, until the Stone wolf pinned his opponent with crushing force.

The other Blackwoods, bleeding and suddenly uncertain, pulledback to help their brother. The youngest cast one last look at the scene—at the mist that pulsed with pleasure around us, at me still wrapped in its cold embrace—and something like understanding dawned in his eyes.

“Fall back,” the oldest Blackwood ordered after shifting back, blood freezing where the mist had touched him. “This isn’t what Father described. Something else is at work here.”

As they retreated into the shadows, the Stone brothers turned their attention to me. The mist, perhaps sensing stronger prey approaching, suddenly released its grip. I collapsed, my blood leaving dark stains on the frost-covered ground.

“Get him to Grandmother,” ordered the largest wolf after shifting—a young man’s voice, authoritative despite his fear. “Now!”

Strong arms lifted me, carrying me at a run through the remaining trees. Through half-closed eyes, I saw the Stone Manor growing closer, its ancient stones seeming to glow with protective power.

“The Blackwoods were chasing him,” another voice reported—deeper, angrier.

“He’s hurt,” a third voice added, younger, concerned. “Grandmother will know what to do.”

I was barely conscious when we reached the manor, my blood leaving a trail across polished floors as they carried me deeper into the house.

The underground chamber was lit by strange crystals that cast blue-white light across ancient walls covered in symbols. In the center, an old woman lay on a stone altar, blood seeping from multiple wounds. An old man stood protectively over her, his form radiating power and authority.

“Grandmother,” the oldest of the three who’d rescued me said, his voice breaking. “We found him at the edge of the property. The Blackwoods were in pursuit.”

The old woman’s eyes opened, fixing on me with startling clarity despite her obvious pain. “Bring him here,” she whispered.

They laid me on the altar beside her, my blood mingling with hers on the ancient stone. Her hand, surprisingly strong, gripped mine.

“What’s happening?” I managed to ask, my voice weak from pain and fear. “Where’s my mom?”

“Fighting,” the old man answered, his voice barely human. “As we all are.”

“There’s no time,” the old woman interrupted, her voice growing weaker. “The marking must be done now, before they break through.”

“But Grandmother,” the youngest of the three protested, “we’re not ready. The ritual requires?—”

“Do it,” she commanded, her authority undeniable even as her life ebbed away. “Mark him. Before they do. He must be yours before he can be theirs.”

The three looked at each other, some silent communication passing between them. Then the oldest nodded, and they surrounded me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, genuine regret in his eyes. “This will hurt.”

Before I could ask what he meant, pain exploded across my lower back and hip—sharp, precise, like claws dragging across my skin. I tried to scream, but the middle brother covered my mouth, his expression grim.

“It’s necessary,” he whispered. “To protect you.”

The youngest went last, his hands shaking slightly as he completed whatever they were doing to me. Through tears of pain, I saw the old woman watching, her expression a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow.

“By blood and claw, by moon and magic,” she chanted, her voice growing stronger for a moment. “We seal this bond until maturity.”

Power surged through the chamber, making the crystals pulse with blinding light. The mark on my hip burned like ice and fire together, and somewhere above us, something screamed in rage—a sound that wasn’t quite human, wasn’t quite animal.

“It’s done,” the old man said, his massive form shifting slightly as he stood between us and the entrance. “Get him out. The back way.”

“But you—” the oldest brother began.

“We’ll hold them off,” the old woman interrupted, her voice now barely audible. “Take the boy. Keep him safe. When the time comes… claim him properly.”

The ceiling shook, dust and small stones raining down as something massive impacted the ground above.

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