Marked Twice by the Alpha King novel Chapter 77

Third Person POV

Moonlight spilled over Blackwood Manor’s hunting grounds as Jackson watched Sophia ordering guards around. They hung silver lanterns from oak branches while others set up stone benches around fire pits stacked with pine logs.

“All this fuss for one guy?” Jackson asked, tapping the railing. “Your dad doesn’t even get this royal treatment.”

Sophia stopped mid–instruction, her face lighting up. “Not just ‘some guy,” she corrected, practically bouncing. “It’s Steven! My cousin from Dark Moon pack. Growing up, I’d follow him around like a lost puppy during every Northern Moon bash.”

“First I’m hearing about him,” Jackson said, eyebrows raised.

Sophia slipped her arm around his waist. “He’s been up north, tracking down old pack stories. Total history buff–knows the dirt on every major pack’s beginnings and battles.”

“So what’s his deal? Alpha–in–waiting, bookworm, or what?” Jackson asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“My dad’s brother’s kid,” Sophia explained, eyes bright with memories. “Uncle James ditched everything Silverpeak offered for a Dark Moon she–wolf. Fated mates–the real deal, not the arranged crap most packs pull.”

“He walked away from the Morgan name in Silverpeak?” Jackson couldn’t mask his surprise. “For some out–of–pack girl?”

“Feel a true mate bond once, and you’d get it,” Sophia said, fingers brushing his wrist. “So Steven got the Morgan blood but grew up Dark Moon, turned into this keeper of wolf history.”

Before Jackson could dig deeper, a sharp wolf–whistle cut through the night.

Guard howls echoed–three long, one short–the Alpha visitor signal. Sophia grabbed Jackson’s hand and practically dragged him toward the front yard.

“Holy shit, he’s here!” she squealed.

The courtyard blazed with torches. Tyler stood at the gate with armed guards flanking him. From the forest path emerged a massive silver–gray wolf, leather bags slung across its back, ancient symbols catching the firelight.

The wolf’s body twisted and cracked as bones rearranged. Seconds later, a tall guy with movie–star looks stood in the wolf’s place. He threw on the robe a guard handed him, flashing a smile that screamed Morgan family–confident but not cocky.

“Sophie–wolf!” he called, arms wide, his voice carrying a rough northern accent.

“Steve!” Sophia sprinted across the yard like a kid on Christmas morning. “You made it! Thought you’d bail till after the moon crashed.”

Steven caught her mid–leap, spinning her around before setting her down. “And miss my favorite cousin’s hunt ceremony? Fat chance.” His eyes landed on Jackson. “So this is the famous Hayes kid.”

Jackson stepped up, extending his hand with a subtle pulse of Alpha energy. “Jackson Hayes. Shadow Creek’s next Alpha. Heard plenty about your history gig.

“Steven Morgan. Dark Moon’s next in line,” he returned the handshake with equal pressure. “Sophie’s letters make you sound better than sliced bread.”

Tyler cleared his throat. “Master Steven, Alpha King’s handling some border mess. Asked me to show you around. Your room’s all set.”

Blue fire crackled in the ancestral hall, lighting up stern–faced Morgan Alphas watching from their portraits. The three sat around a carved table, drinking wine that glowed like liquid moonlight.

“So the whole northern territory’s cool with you taking over?” Jackson swirled his drink. “Even though your mom’s side had the original Alpha juice?‘

Steven smiled, unfazed. “Up north, we care more about what you can do than whose blood you’ve got. Dad earned respect through actions, not family trees.” He sipped his wine. “And I’ve gotta prove I deserve that spot, same as any real Alpha.”

Sophia patted his arm. “Steve’s collected stories from every northern pack. Sees patterns nobody else catches.”

“It’s just what I do,” Steven shrugged, then turned to Jackson. “Some stories need keeping, Some truths shouldn’t disappear.” His tone carried weight.