Stepbrother’s Obsession: Claimed By The Triplet Alphas のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Isabella – POVThe wind that morning didn’t whisper—it howled.It screamed through the tower’s broken wall like it was mourning the dead… or warning the living.I stood at the threshold, watching smoke rise from the distant treeline. The forest was charred, but not lifeless. Birds were already returning, hesitant but determined. Life always clawed its way back.Even after ruin.Even after war.I pressed a hand to my ribs. Each breath was a bruise. Each heartbeat a reminder: I was still standing.Behind me, Mason was rolling his shoulder with a wince as he scanned the outer perimeter. Blood crusted his temple. His blade was notched. But his stance… that hadn’t changed.He was still my wall.“Anything?” I asked.He nodded toward the woods. “They’re gone. Fully. For now.”“For now,” I echoed.Mai sat huddled near the firepit, cradling our mother’s head in her lap. Mama’s eyes had fluttered open briefly at dawn, glassy and dazed, but she was alive. Still burning.Just like the rest of us.

Asher — POVThe bodies were barely cold.We hadn’t even cleared all the blood off our boots.And already, the next storm was on its way.“They’re targeting the Omegas now,” Mason said grimly, his voice tight as we stood around the map spread out across the ground, weighed down with stones and daggers. “Five confirmed attacks in two days. All in the outer territories.”“Cowards,” Demian spat. “Picking off the weakest because they know they can’t face us head-on.”“They’re not cowards,” I said quietly, jaw clenched as I marked another red ‘X’ on the parchment. “They’re strategic. And we’ve let them get too close.”Silence fell.The air was heavy with smoke and grief. Isabella stood behind me, arms crossed, her dagger still sheathed but her stance ready—like she was expecting the shadows to lunge at any second.She wasn’t wrong.“The packs in the east are already evacuating their Omegas to the river haven,” Demian continued, voice low. “But we need a full relocation. All of them. Every O

Mason — POV The fire was dying again. Second time tonight. I crouched low beside the pit, jabbing a charred stick into the embers like stabbing it would somehow make heat. The logs hissed. Sparks sputtered. A breath of wind hissed past the cavern mouth, and I cursed under it. Great. One more thing that wasn’t doing its damn job tonight. And yeah—I knew I was projecting. Truth was, I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Not with a mole somewhere in our ranks and half the Omegas still flinching every time a shadow shifted wrong. Not with that silver crest sitting in Asher’s cave like it didn’t want to start whispering in your sleep. I stood, rolled my shoulders, and turned to the map table we’d dragged out from storage. It was scratched to hell and half-warped from the last cave flood, but it still showed every ridge, cliffline, and passable path within twenty miles. A red marker pinched between my fingers. I moved it toward the eastern slope. I hated this part—waiting. Watching. Knowing

Aria — POV The storm broke before the snow did. Not outside. Inside. Inside him. Asher slammed the war table hard enough to crack it. Maps fluttered like wounded birds to the floor. The candlelight flickered as if afraid. “He burned two of our scouts alive and now he wants to play peacekeeper?” he growled, pacing in sharp, short lines that reeked of fury. I didn’t flinch. I was too used to this version of him—the one who wore his rage like armor and refused to let it crack. “Mason said he looked tired,” I offered carefully. “Not weak. Just… worn. He has a daughter.” Asher’s head snapped toward me. “So do monsters.” I stepped closer. “He sent a scroll, not a battalion.” “He sent a warning! Wrapped in wax and blood,” he spat. “You don’t send diplomacy with a damn body count in the footnotes.” The fire roared behind us. The room smelled like smoke and adrenaline. I hated this house. Hated these halls—too cold, too wide. I wanted my rogue forest back. I wanted Xav

Asher – POVThe storm broke just past midday.Not in the sky.In her.We were halfway through planning routes for a potential ambush near the West Creek—where Enzo’s patrols had gone quiet for days—when Isabella slammed her fist on the table hard enough to rattle the map weights.“I said, that road is compromised.”Her voice cracked like a whip. Her hair was a dark curtain over her face, but I saw the spark beneath it. The edge.The fury.“You’re still not listening.”“I am listening,” I bit back, trying to stay calm. “You just don’t like what you’re hearing.”She leaned over the table, eyes leveled with mine. “No, Asher. I don’t like that you’re still playing this like chess while bodies are dropping in the dirt. You keep talking about strategy. I’m talking about wolves.”“So am I,” I growled.“No, you’re talking about your wolves. Your war. Your ego.”That one dug deep.I straightened, jaw tight. “You think this is about ego?”“I know it is,” she said coldly. “It always is with you.