A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge novel Chapter 343

Chapter 343

Third-Person POV

The tension inside West Pack had been smoldering since Aria’s return. Though Aedric’s storm-grey eyes revealed his inner conflict, not everyone under his command shared his hesitation.

Whispers slithered through the halls-rumors of betrayal, of the white wolf’s loyalty being swayed, of her true name whispered like a curse: Riley.

Among the ranks, the hardliners stirred. Warriors who had bled for Aedric’s expansion, who had followed him into battle with promises of dominance, bristled at the very thought of compromise. To them, peace was weakness. And Aria-once their sharpest blade-had dulled the moment she questioned their cause.

That night, when the moon hung thin and pale, the plot took form.

Aria lay restless in her chamber, the heavy wooden beams pressing down on her like a cage. She had felt Aedric’s uncertainty earlier that day, the way his aura wavered when her eyes met his. But beneath the Alpha’s turmoil, another presence lingered-murmurs of unrest, like wolves prowling just beyond the door.

Her wolf stirred uneasily, warning her.

Then the door splintered.

Three warriors burst in, their eyes gleaming with fanatic fire. Before she could shift, before her wolf could claw free, hands clamped down on her arms and throat.

“Traitor bitch,” one hissed into her ear.

The sting of a needle pierced her neck. A cold fire spread through her veins, choking her wolf into silence. Her body convulsed, strength draining like water through a sieve. The wolf suppressant-liquid iron burning her blood.

Her vision blurred as they dragged her from the room, the scent of their fury choking her lungs.

Maeryn had been watching.

From her perch in the shadows of the West Pack’s library, her wards hummed with alarm as the balance shifted. She felt the magic ripple through the air, felt the sharp drop in Aria’s wolf aura. Her heart lurched.

No hesitation.

With trembling fingers, she reached for the rune-stone tucked inside her robes, pressing it hard until sparks flew. The signal shot out like a silent howl.

To Lucien. To Carmen.

“Riley’s in danger.”

Lucien was already pacing the treeline when the rune flared hot against his palm. His head snapped up, his wolf howling inside his chest.

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“She’s been taken,” he growled.

Carmen was on her feet instantly, her blade drawn. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Lucien didn’t answer. He was already moving, a blur of shadow and fury tearing through the trees toward the fortress. Guards shouted as he breached the outer gates, but none stood a chance. His claws ripped through armor; his wolf aura blasted aside any who dared to block his path.

Nothing would stop him. Not tonight.

Deep in the underhalls of the West Pack, Aria fought to remain conscious. Her body was lead, her wolf caged by the suppressant, but her mind flickered, reaching for fragments of memory. Carmen’s laughter. Lucien’s steady hand. A promise whispered in the dark.

Then the memory slipped like sand, leaving her hollow.

“East Pack will beg for her,” one of the captors snarled, forcing her down onto cold stone. “We’ll bleed her until they crawl to us on their knees.”

Rage flared, weak but burning, in her chest. She tried to shift, but her body betrayed her, trembling uselessly against the chains.

The door blasted open.

Lucien stormed inside, his wolf blazing like a hurricane, his eyes burning molten gold. The air thickened with his aura, crushing the room in its grip.

“Touch her,” he growled, voice low and lethal, “and I’ll skin you alive.”

The warriors staggered back, choking under the weight of his dominance. But desperation made them reckless. One lunged at him with a dagger tipped in wolfsbane.

Lucien caught the man’s wrist mid-strike, bones snapping under his grip. He tore the blade free and drove it into the stone wall, inches from the warrior’s throat. “Run,” he spat, “and maybe I’ll forget your scent.”

They fled, leaving Aria slumped against the chains.

Lucien was at her side in an instant, his hands shaking as he broke the bindings. “Riley… gods, what did they do to you?” His voice cracked as he gathered her into his arms, her head lolling against his chest.

Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. Blood trickled from a cut at her temple where they had struck her.

She looked at him-and froze.

Confusion clouded her gaze. Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Who… who are you?”

The words gutted him.

Lucien’s heart lurched, his breath catching like a blade between his ribs. “Riley, it’s me. It’s Lucien. Don’t you-”

But her eyes darted away, panic rising. She pushed weakly against his chest, her body trembling. “I don’t know you. Don’t-don’t touch me!”

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The rejection hit harder than any blade. Then Aria fainted.

Behind them, Maeryn appeared, her face grave, her hands already weaving healing sigils. “The blow to her head… it’s scrambled her mind. The suppressant has only made it worse.”

Lucien’s wolf howled, clawing at his chest, demanding he remind her, claim her, tear down the walls between them. But all he could do was clutch her hand gently, his voice breaking.

“You’re Riley,” he whispered. “My mate. My everything. And I swear on the blood of the moon-I’ll bring you back.”

Her glassy eyes filled with tears, though whether from fear or some flicker of recognition, none could say.

Carmen arrived then, sword dripping crimson from the guards outside. She froze at the sight of Aria trembling in Lucien’s arms, her face pale. “What happened?”.

Lucien’s jaw tightened, pain and fury warring in his eyes. “They’ve taken her memories again.”

Carmen’s chest heaved with rage, but when she looked at Riley-fragile, lost, clutching at the tatters of herself-her anger broke into grief.

Maeryn finished the ward around them, her voice firm though her shoulders sagged with guilt. “We must get her out before Aedric knows. If he discovers what happened tonight, he’ll never let her leave these walls alive.”

Lucien gathered Riley into his arms once more, holding her as though she might vanish. Her scent- diluted, trembling, faint-still burned through his veins, binding him tighter than chains ever could.

Even if she didn’t remember him, he would fight for her. Even if she turned from him, he would wait.

For now, the only truth was the vow thrumming in his blood.

He would burn the West Pack to the ground before letting them take her again.

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