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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO
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2025-08-05 06:10:37
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Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-TWO
The Threads That BindNicholas’s POVThey said the war was over.That we had won.But I had never felt more lost in my life.The council room buzzed with talk plans for reconstruction, treaties, border protection, food distribution, rebuilding trust between the fractured provinces. I heard none of it.I sat at the head of the table, the crescent moon sigil gleaming beneath my thumb.And in my palm, hidden beneath the desk where no one could see, I held her ring.Azaria’s.Gold, etched with the old rune for “hope.” It was slightly bent at the edge on the side where she once had summed her fists on a mages shield during training. She joked about it being cursed, never felt quite right but she would not give it up.Now I wore it like a prayer.And every day, my eyes drifted to the horizon.Waiting for something that never came.I barely spoke in meetings anymore.The advisors began talking around me. Not out of disrespect, but pity. Their voices blurred together, low and patient, like th
Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE
The Land of EchoesAzaria’s POVAt first, there was only silence.Not peace. Not stillness.But a silence too great to measure which beat in my very bones vibrating louder than a yell.My eyes were opened gradually. The sky over my head was glittering with colours that were not on the waking source shimmering lavenders bleeding to gold, silver stars caught on their breaths gasped still on the lap. There was a pair of moons overhead, one a complete moon the other broken like a mirror that had broken because it had held too much light.I was in bed on pale grass, under tree-less trees. They lazily swung above the earth moving like they were in water. Nothing made sense. Not the air. Not the gravity. Not the ache in my chest.Where was I?Who was I?I stood, slowly, my limbs heavier than I remembered. My feet made no sound against the earth or what passed for earth here. Everything felt... like a memory dreaming of itself.I walked.Because I could not do otherwise.The forest rumbled in
Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY
The Price of PowerAshley’s POVAzaria was gone.Not in the way Selene was. burned from existence, forgotten by the gods she betrayed.Not in the way her mother vanished, scattered like smoke and memory in the aftermath of the rift’s collapse.Azaria’s body remained. Whole. Unbroken. Still.But she didn’t wake.The healers said her soul was lost. Somewhere else. Some unreachable realm beyond the veil, where no spell or science could follow.And that was somehow worse.I would rather she be furious. Bleeding. Cursing my name and kicking down the healer’s tent.Instead, she just lay there.Breathing.But gone.Nicholas survived.Barely.The Moonshard Blade had shattered in the final blow, its fragments scattered in a circle of scorched earth. His wounds nearly killed him. It took three of us working around the clock to keep his heart beating. But he lived.And when he finally opened his eyes, the first word on his lips wasn’t Selene. Or battle. Or pain.It was Azaria.He reached for her
Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE
When Stars CryNicholas’s POVThe battlefield was a storm of screams and shadow.Steel clanged. Magic tore the skies apart. The air was smothered with blood and smoke and rage. I no longer saw the horizon of the plain, and I saw only the collision of light and blackness that was scattering over the earth as though the world itself were being torn asunder.I didn’t feel fear.Not anymore.Only purpose.I moved through the chaos with the Moonshard Blade gleaming in my grip. Every swing shattered another wraith. Every breath drew closer to her.Selene stood at the center of it all, floating just above the battlefield, cloaked in wind and black flame. Her eyes found me the moment I cut through her last line of corrupted knights.She smiled.Then the sky split.She descended like a star falling to kill.We met in the eye of the storm.Her magic came in, the dark curses smacking on my chest. I flew back, landed with such force as to break bone, but rolled and sprang up again, and was chargi
Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT
The Final MarchAshley’s POVThe skies over us were unnaturally still.The type that stops and waits and holds its breath until it is covered with blood.We were in line on the border of the old battleplain where, they said, the old kings lay resting in their bones under the ground. In front of the army rode Nicholas, in his armour of silver, like splinters of moon. Across his back was flung the Moonshard Blade, where its quiet power hummed to itself in ways we could not effect.He hadn’t spoken much since the letters.Since her letters.But something in him had changed.He wasn’t walking toward death like a man seeking glory.He was walking like a man chasing peace.I grumbled to the squad at my side, "eyes forward," and grasped my staff more firmly. The flames of gold flared up my arms, and my magic was flaring as it always did when danger came near.The horizon cracked open.And Selene’s army poured through.Shadows. Thousands of them.Not just soldiers, but beasts, monsters that u
Bad Boy Alpha CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-SEVEN
Letters Never SentNicholas’s POVI didn’t mean to find the box.We hadn’t been back to the old hideout in months. Maybe years, though time blurred after the Red Moon. The dust was everywhere, and forgotten cobwebs, like the skeleton of a world which was still, was all over the place. I was on a pilgrimage, seeking something to which I could not have put a name, perhaps a fragment of my own personality which I had lost on the way.It was hidden in the hole behind the fireplace, between the dusty cloaks and the spell scrolls, that loose stone Azaria always claimed she was going to fix even after I made jokes that she was obsessed with neatness. She used to tuck wildflowers and stolen sweets behind there. I remember laughing once when she called it her “emergency stash.”But this time, it wasn’t sweets.It was a box.Small, wooden, and worn smooth with age. It bore the mark of our rebel sigil, two crescent moons overlapping, etched delicately in faded gold.My hand hovered over the lid.
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