Page 71 of The Alpha's Forbidden Heir

Markus clears his throat. “Alpha, I suggest we send scouts to Vittorio’s known territories. If we can pinpoint her location, we can plan a swift extraction.”

“We don’t have time for scouts,” I say. “We need to act now.”

“Barging in blind is a death sentence,” Rook argues. “For you and for her.”

I clench my fists, struggling to keep my temper in check. “Then what do you suggest?”

“We split our forces,” Rook says. “Send a small team to recon Vittorio’s territory while the rest of us prepare for a full-scale assault. Once we know where she is, we strike fast and hard.”

It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s better than charging in blind. I nod. “Fine. Markus, Tobias, you’re with me. Rook, take a team and start the recon. I want eyes on every one of Vittorio’s strongholds by nightfall.”

Rook nods. “Consider it done.”

As the men begin to disperse, preparing to carry out their orders, I stay behind, staring at the splintered table.

“She’s marrying someone else,” I mutter, the words tasting like poison.

Rook, who hasn’t left yet, pauses. “Not if you stop it,” he says simply.

I don’t respond, my mind swirling with guilt and anger. I should’ve claimed her when I had the chance. I should’ve made her mine long ago. Instead, I’ve pushed her away, and now she’s paying the price.

“She deserves better,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“Then give her better,” Rook says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “But you’d better hurry, Bane. Time’s running out.”

He leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stare at the broken table, my heart heavy.

Just then Markus returns, his face pale.

“Alpha,” he says, his voice urgent. “We’ve got her location.”

My heart pounds. “Where?”

Markus hesitates, then says, “She’s in Vittorio’s northern estate. And Alpha… the engagement ceremony is scheduled to start at sunrise.”

My blood runs cold. Sunrise is only hours away.

“Then we move now,” I growl, storming out of the room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Aria

The gown is suffocating. Layers of silk and lace cling to my body like a web, trapping me in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. The pale cream color, handpicked by my father, is supposed to signify purity. A laughable thought.

The maids flutter around me like restless moths, adjusting the hem, fluffing the veil, perfecting every detail of my prison.

“Enough,” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. They flinch, retreating slightly but not entirely leaving. Vittorio’s orders are clear—they are to make me look “presentable” for my fiancé.

My stomach churns at the thought of him. Lorenzo Valerio. A man as vile as the name sounds. Our brief meeting earlier is enough to know what kind of monster he is. The sneer, the arrogance, the condescending tone as he assesses me likelivestock. And his “generosity”—offering to accept Elias under his “protection”—still makes my blood boil.

“Do you need anything, Miss Aria?” one of the younger maids asks hesitantly, her voice trembling.

“Yes,” I say sharply, locking eyes with her. “Time.”

The maid blinks, unsure of how to respond.

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