Semua Bab Stepbrother’s Obsession: Claimed By The Triplet Alphas: Bab 141 - Bab 150

The rain didn’t stop by morning.It softened.Like it finally remembered how to listen. How to land without bruising.The Weave woke slowly—like the whole world had been sleeping beneath wool and dreams. Children chased each other through puddles. Corrin cursed at the mud stuck to his boots. Aelira offered to teach them all how to “breathe with their toes,” which sounded made up and probably was.Kaia was gone again.She didn’t say where.Didn’t need to.Some people leave like warnings. She leaves like a promise.And I—I sharpened knives I didn’t need.Cleaned weapons no one had asked for.Because even peace leaves a scar when you’re used to chaos.---Day Ninety-SevenThe girl with no name is trying to learn the violin.Badly.It sounds like a goat in distress and the ghost of every terrible decision I’ve ever made. I tell her this.She laughs and keeps playing.“Music doesn’t have to sound good to mean something,” she says.I mutter something unkind under my breath.Then sit beside

Corrin’s story makes less sense the longer it goes on.But that doesn’t stop him.In fact, I think the lack of coherence encourages him.He gestures wildly with a half-eaten root vegetable like it’s a sword, pantomiming a duel between a rabbit in a top hat and a snake priest with vertigo.The kids eat it up—eyes wide, giggles bubbling through cracked lips.Even the elder woman chuckles once, low and hoarse like it’s rust being shaken off something old and precious.Isabella mutters under her breath beside me. “If this is the foundation of our new society, we’re doomed.”I smirk. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”Her shoulder bumps mine. Light. Barely there. But it stays.She doesn't move away.Neither do I.Because maybe, for tonight, doom can wait.---LaterThe fire dies down, but no one leaves.The newcomers are curled in borrowed blankets and silence.That kind of silence comes after survival when you’ve run out of things to scream about.I lean back on my elbows, eyes on the

The feathers didn’t burn.Kaia put them in the fire like she was offering them something, and the flames bent around them instead of through them—curling, twisting, refusing to consume.That’s when I knew we weren’t ready.The circle ended in silence. No laughter. No arguments. Just the quiet shuffle of feet and the weight of too many unspoken questions.Asher stayed behind with Kaia and Demian. I didn’t.I slipped out the side of the longhouse before anyone could ask me how I felt about it.Because the truth?I didn’t feel ready to say it out loud.---The forge felt better.Empty, cold, smelling of ash and iron. A place built for making, not for talking.I lit the smaller hearth, sat on the stool, and stared at the half-finished blade I’d been working on before we left for the east.It was still waiting for me—steel half-shaped, edges blunt, like it knew I’d be back.“You’re avoiding people again,” Asher’s voice came from the doorway.“I’m avoiding questions.”“Same thing here.”I d

I didn’t go back to the longhouse. Couldn’t. If I walked in there right now, I’d have to sit at one of those long tables with the smell of boiled roots and smoke clinging to my skin, listening to everyone talk around what we all knew. And I couldn’t keep my face neutral enough for that. So I cut left at the edge of the square, past the half-finished racks where hides hung stiff in the morning air, and let my feet carry me toward the northern wall. The cold bit through my coat. My hands found my pockets, but the feather was still in one of them, and I didn’t like the feel of it pressed against my palm. Too alive. Too aware. Asher followed without saying a word. --- The wall The northern wall looked nothing like the gate we’d just walked through. Here, the palisade was patched in three places, the wood darker, older, like it had been ripped out of the ground and shoved back together in a hurry. No one stood guard. I stopped, leaning against one of the upright posts. “Yo

The first strikeThe ash-skinned thing didn’t wait for permission.It moved — wrong. Too fast, too fluid, like gravity had decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.Asher shoved me sideways just as its feather cut through the space my neck had been. The air behind it rippled, cold enough to burn.The bone in my palm flared. Not with heat this time — with pressure. It wanted out.I didn’t let go.The thing’s head snapped toward me mid-lunge, like it could hear the bone calling.“Give it,” it said. Its voice was soft, almost kind. Which made my skin crawl more than shouting ever could.---The fightKaia’s voice cut through the chaos from somewhere behind me. “Don’t let it touch you!”Helpful. Except the thing seemed determined to do exactly that.It darted left — Asher’s blade caught its side — and the sound it made wasn’t pain. It was laughter. Dry, papery, like dead leaves rubbing together.Two more slipped through the breach. Same skin, same eyes, same… hunger.The hum in my bones was a