Todos os capítulos de Stepbrother’s Obsession: Claimed By The Triplet Alphas: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Isabella — POVThere was blood under my nails.I could still feel the pulse of the man I killed.Still hear the wet snap of bone and blade and the sound his body made when it hit the forest floor. Like a sack of meat dropped from a rooftop.It didn’t shake me.Not the kill.Not the way Asher looked at me after—like maybe he’d forgotten what I was capable of. Like he remembered too well.What did shake me was the moment after.The silence.The way our eyes met.And the flicker of something unspoken, electric and buried, sparking to life between us like a match struck in a room full of gas.I hated it.Because I didn’t know if I wanted to lean into it or set the whole damn thing on fire.I stormed up the stairs the second we returned.Didn’t wait for the post-mortem. Didn’t sit for strategy.I needed distance.I needed space from the heat he left in his wake.I needed to breathe without feeling like he was still standing behind me.Gods, that man…He always knew how to find the bruise I

Isabella — POVBy the time I made it to the council chamber, the sunlight was a lie—too soft for the kind of war brewing in my bones.The room was already humming with low voices, whispers too quiet to catch and too intentional to ignore. I took my seat at the head of the long stone table, spine straight, expression unreadable. Corrin stood at my right. Vincenzo at my left.Asher was late.Of course he was.The others watched me—measured, cautious, some of them still wondering why I allowed him back inside the gates in the first place.Let them wonder.Let them choke on it.“Begin,” I said coolly, without waiting.Corrin stepped forward, dropping a scroll on the table. “Our scouts tracked movement beyond the Eastern Ridge. Small company. No colors, no sigils. Likely another cell.”“Same pattern?” I asked.“Same timing. Same tactics. But this time they didn’t attack. Just… waited.”“For what?”No one answered.I didn’t need them to.For someone.The doors creaked open behind me, and I

Asher — POVOld Watchtower. Midnight.The tower had been abandoned since before I was born. A relic from the border wars, its stones blackened by fire, its bones cracked by time. The perfect place for secrets to fester.And ambushes.I stepped through the rusted gate alone.No weapons.No backup.No good fucking sense.But instinct had never needed permission.The wind cut through the ruins like a blade, moaning low through hollow walls. The moon broke through the clouds just long enough to light the center of the courtyard—and there, tucked in the shadow of the broken altar, stood a figure cloaked in gray.I didn’t move closer. Not yet.“You summoned me,” I said, voice calm but sharp.The figure didn’t flinch. “You came.”Female.Young.Confident.My muscles tensed, every nerve waiting to snap.“Start talking.”She pulled down her hood.And I froze.Because I knew that face.I’d kissed that face.Once.Long ago.“Talya,” I breathed.She smiled like the devil had taught her how.“Miss

Asher POVWe marched before the sun could clear the ash.No ceremony. No trumpet.Just steel, resolve, and the ghost-silence of a Queen whose rage no longer needed to scream.The survivors we rescued from Greylight rode in covered carts at the rear—tended by medics and guarded like royalty. Isabella gave a single command as we left:“No more names on lists.”And by the gods, we would make that true.The trail led southeast. Into old territory—lands once claimed by rebels, now technically “free.” But we knew better. Freedom didn’t look like this. It didn’t smell like smoke and blood.And it didn’t send cryptic threats sealed in the skin of your friends.---Corrin — POVWe reached the ridge by dusk.A line of ravines where the land split like cracked bone. This was where the old scouts used to vanish—back in the early days of rebellion, when every shadow held a knife and every whisper had teeth.Now, it was too quiet.I scanned the cliffs, the narrow bridges, the trees that leaned too

Isabella — POVI found the corner of the ruined chapel and sat hard.Not out of weakness.But because if I didn’t sit, I’d shatter something.My hands were coated in blood — some of it mine, most of it not. My armor hung crooked on one shoulder, dented and blackened. The wind was too quiet, like the earth was scared to breathe.And my heart? It was a drum against the cage of my ribs.But I wasn’t alone.Mason was there before I spoke his name. Before I even thought it. He crouched in front of me like he was afraid to touch me — not because I was fragile, but because I wasn’t.“You’re bleeding,” he said.I shrugged.“Isabella.”His voice was a low command, wrapped in velvet, wrapped in warning.I looked down at the gash across my side. “It’s shallow.”He didn’t answer.He just reached forward and pulled my tunic up enough to see it.Then he growled.A real, chest-deep, bone-echoing growl that made the world tilt. His fingers ghosted across the skin beside the cut like even touching it