All Chapters of Alpha’s regret : The return of his rejected mate: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

HELEN’S P.O.V.The temperature in the Great Hall dropped ten degrees the moment Leo left the room. Itwasn't a draft. It was the feeling of warmth leaving the building, following him up thestairs like a loyal dog.I stood at the bottom of the maintenance ladder that led to the observation deck. Mybreath was already misting in the air."He shouldn't go alone," Kai said, checking the magazine of his rifle, though his handswere shaking slightly. "If he freezes up there... literally... who brings him down?""I do," I said. I grabbed my parka, zipping it up to my chin. "Damian, stay here. Coordinatethe ground defense. If the door breaches, blow the tunnel."Damian didn't argue. He couldn't. He was pale, clutching his side, his eyes fixed on theceiling as if he could see through the stone to the drama unfolding above. "Bring himback, Helen. Don't let him stay in the cold."I climbed.The ladder scissored up through the central shaft of the Spire. The higher I got, thecolder the metal

HELEN’S P.O.V.Walking on bone doesn't sound like walking on stone. Stone is solid; it returns theenergy of your step. Bone absorbs it. It feels dead, damp, and fundamentally wrong.We ascended the spiraling ramp of the Bone Tower.To my left was a sheer drop of three hundred feet into the burning ruins of the MarketDistrict. To my right was the central pillar of the tower a fused, twisted spine the width ofa redwood tree, made from thousands of crushed skeletons.Hollow Men lined the path. They stood shoulder to shoulder, acting as a living guardrail.They didn't move. They didn't breathe. Their blank, white faces tracked us as we passed,a thousand silent witnesses to our surrender."Keep your head down," I whispered to Leo. "Look defeated.""I don't have to act," Leo murmured, clutching his stomach. "Being this close to him... itfeels like standing next to a drain. He's sucking the air right out of my lungs.""Hold the Cube tight," I said. "And wait for the signal.""What signal

HELEN’S P.O.V.Two miles is ten thousand, five hundred and sixty feet. In a skyscraper, that is roughlytwo hundred stories.We didn't run down the stairs. We fell them.The emergency stairwell of the Spire was a brutalist concrete throat spiraling down intothe dark. It was lit only by intermittent red strobes, casting our shadows long and jaggedagainst the curved walls.The sound of our boots on the metal grating was a chaotic, echoing thunder. Clangclang-clang."Faster!" Damian gritted out.He was moving on sheer willpower. His side was bleeding through the fresh bandages,the red stain spreading across his armor. He leaned heavily on the railing, using hisupper body strength to hurl himself down the flights, skipping steps, landing hard, andpushing off again.I was carrying Leo. Not fully he was too big now but I had his arm draped over myshoulder, taking half his weight.He was semi-conscious. His feet dragged on the metal. His head lolled."I can hear him," Leo mumbled, his s

BOOK III: THE FRACTUREONE YEAR LATERHELEN’S P.O.V.Sanctuary had become the strangest city on Earth.Tourists, mostly wealthy thrill-seekers from the South or scholars from the reconstructedCouncil, called it the "Museum of the End." They paid exorbitant fees for permits to crossthe Exclusion Zone, riding in armored convoys up the Pass of Tears to see the city wherethe war stopped.I stood on the balcony of the Spire, sipping coffee that was still too burnt, watching themorning tour groups.From up here, the city looked like a chessboard frozen in the middle of a checkmate. TheHollow Men the thousands of white, bone-wood statues were still there. We hadn'tmoved them. We couldn't. They were fused to the cobblestones, heavier than lead andharder than diamond.So, we lived around them.I watched a group of children playing tag in the Market District. One boy hid behind thefrozen leg of a Walking Citadel, pressing his face against the white bone. A street vendorhad set up a stal

HELEN’S P.O.V.A city is designed for flow. Streets are arteries; plazas are lungs.A mine is designed for extraction. It is a throat, meant to swallow men and spit outstone. It is not meant to hold five thousand refugees.We descended the Great Spiral the massive, corkscrewing ramp that led from the Spire’sbasement down into the Shadow Claw workings. It was wide enough for mining trucks,which meant it was wide enough for a river of terrified people.The sound was overwhelming. Ten thousand boots shuffling on stone. The crying ofchildren echoing off the damp walls. The low, frantic murmuring of families checking tosee if everyone made it."Keep moving!" Kai shouted, standing on a crate at a switchback, waving a flare to lightthe gloom. "Do not stop on the ramp! Fill the lower caverns first!"I walked at the rear of the column, watching the tunnel mouth above us.The light from the surface was fading. The fires burning in the Market District cast aflickering orange glow down the