Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Eleven – The Hidden Message

Sleep would not come.

Ivy tossed restlessly on the silk sheets, staring at the pale curtains that swayed in the night breeze. Arthur had left her chambers hours ago, summoned to a late meeting with his advisors. The palace was quiet now, yet her blood thrummed too loudly for peace, each heartbeat drumming like a war drum in her chest.

Mira’s signal haunted her—the quick flash of parchment, the message hidden in plain sight.

She risked everything to show us, Selra murmured inside her, her tone sharp but steady. If we ignore it, we may lose the only chance we have.

Ivy swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold marble. “Then we go,” she whispered, her voice trembling with resolve.

Pulling on a plain cloak to cover her gown, she slipped barefoot across the floor, easing the heavy door open with a cautious hand. The hall outside was dimly lit by torches, their flames flickering shadows across the walls. At the far end, two guards slouched against the wall, their conversation a low murmur broken by occasional laughter.

Good, Selra said, ears pricked. Distracted.

Moving as silently as her wolf-born senses allowed, Ivy glided down the corridor, heart leaping with every creak of the floorboards. She pressed her back to the walls, sliding from shadow to shadow, her breath shallow but steady. Selra’s presence steadied her—keen ears, sharp instincts, that ever-watchful awareness. Together, they navigated the palace’s maze of corridors until the cool air of the courtyard kissed her face.

The night smelled of pine and smoke, the gardens whispering with the rustle of leaves. Above her, the moon hung low like a silver coin, veiled by thin clouds.

---

Mira was waiting.

She emerged from the edge of the gardens, her cloak drawn tight, eyes darting like a hunted bird’s. When she saw Ivy, her face softened with relief, though tension still coiled in her movements.

“You came,” she breathed.

“You risked yourself,” Ivy said, pulling her hood lower over her face. “What is it, Mira? What couldn’t you say before?”

Mira’s hands trembled as she pressed a folded scrap of parchment into Ivy’s palm. “Read this. Not here. Too many ears.”

But Ivy’s impatience surged like fire. Against Mira’s warning, she unfolded it anyway, Selra urging her on. The moonlight revealed hurried, uneven script:

He lives.

In the dungeons.

Guarded heavily. Do not trust anyone.

Ivy’s breath caught. Her knees nearly buckled. “Michael,” she whispered, his name tearing from her lips like a prayer.

Mira nodded once, her eyes glistening. “He has survived, Ivy. Barely. They keep him in the lower cells. Arthur forbids anyone to speak of it, but I heard the guards talking after a night watch. He knows you would search for him, so he hides him away.”

Emotion surged hot in Ivy’s chest—relief so sharp it hurt, fury so wild it burned, grief like an open wound. Selra snarled within her, the sound echoing through her veins.

He breathes still. And while he breathes, hope lives. But chains are cruel things, Ivy. We must be clever, not reckless.

“We have to get him out,” Ivy said fiercely. “We can’t leave him there. Not after everything.”

Mira’s hand shot out, gripping Ivy’s wrist tightly. “No, Ivy. Not yet. If you move too soon, Arthur will destroy him—and you. He already suspects you don’t submit fully to him. He’s watching. Always.”

Ivy’s throat tightened. “But if I wait too long—”

“The full moon is close,” Mira interrupted, her voice urgent. “Arthur plans something for that night. I don’t know what. But if you want to strike, that’s when you’ll have your chance. The pack will be distracted by the rituals. It’s the only time the dungeons will be vulnerable.”

Her words hit like a blade.

---

Ivy stared at the message again, the words burning like fire into her mind. Michael was alive. Alive. And Arthur had lied, stolen, twisted everything.

Selra’s voice was steady now, filled with grim determination. The chains are weakening, Ivy. The truth is a weapon. Use it well. But use it carefully. Strike when the moon gives you strength, not before.

She folded the parchment and tucked it inside her cloak, close to her pounding heart. “I’ll wait,” she whispered, though every part of her body ached to storm the dungeons that very moment. “But when the full moon rises, we will act. Whatever Arthur has planned, I’ll turn it against him.”

Mira’s lips trembled into the faintest smile. “Then hope still burns.”

But the smile vanished as quickly as it came. “Be careful, Ivy. Trust no one. Not even those who seem loyal to you. Arthur has spies everywhere. If he discovers our meeting…”

“I understand,” Ivy said firmly, though her heart quaked.

They embraced briefly, tightly, like sisters clinging to the last thread of safety. Mira’s cloak whispered against Ivy’s, and for an instant, Ivy felt like a child again, clinging to the only person who believed her heart. Then Mira slipped back into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

---

Ivy lingered in the courtyard for a moment, staring at the stars. The night felt heavier now, laden with secrets. Every rustle of leaves, every distant cry of an owl felt like a warning.

Do you see, Ivy? Selra whispered. We are not powerless. The truth is on our side. And truth cuts deeper than claws.

But Ivy’s chest tightened. “If he’s alive, then he’s suffering. Every moment I wait…”

Every moment you wait is a chance to win. Do not throw him away by rushing in unprepared.

Her wolf’s words burned through her like steel. She forced herself to turn away, back toward the palace. The corridors seemed darker on her return, the guards more alert, every shadow sharper than before. She held her breath with each step, praying the parchment did not burn through her cloak.

When she slipped into her chambers once more, the horizon was faintly pink, dawn rising to banish the stars.

---

Exhaustion pulled at her bones, yet her spirit burned. She crawled into bed, the parchment hidden beneath her pillow, and closed her eyes. But sleep was no kinder than wakefulness.

Visions twisted through her dreams—Michael chained and bleeding in the dark, his eyes pleading for her. Arthur’s cruel smile gleaming from the shadows. The full moon blazing overhead while wolves howled in frenzy, the sound of chains breaking and bones snapping filling the night.

And through it all, Selra’s voice rumbled steady and strong.

We will free him. We will endure. But you must be patient, Ivy. A storm cannot be rushed—it must gather its strength before it strikes.

Ivy woke with the dawn, her chest heaving, her palms damp with sweat. Yet her resolve was carved deeper than stone.

Three nights. That was all.

Three nights until the moon rose full, and everything changed.