Lahat ng Kabanata ng Alpha’s Regret: Reclaiming His Forsaken Mate: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Mira’s POV: “Silas?” My whisper was barely audible as I shook him, my fingers pressing into his shoulder. *Wake up. Please.* Then— Footsteps. I lunged for the tent flap, peeling it back just enough to see. Guards. Patrol shift change. My pulse hammered as I forced a smile and gave them a casual wave. They nodded and moved on. Too close. When I turned back, Silas’ breathing had steadied, shallow but regular. A shaky exhale escaped me. “Thank goodness,” I murmured, stepping closer to the treatment bed. His eyelids fluttered, fighting the weight of the belladonna’s grip. Then— “Where… am I?” His voice was rough, his pupils dilated as they struggled to focus. “My tent,” I said, smoothing the blanket beside him. “The plan worked. The whole pack thinks you’re dead.” “For a moment..I thought I was as well,” He chuckled weakly. “Dramatic,” I scoffed, but my hands still trembled as I tucked the silver leaf remnants into my pouch. “Though..we’ve go

Meanwhile, At the Royal Wraith Pack.. Thalia’s POV: I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains, rousing me from my sleep. I blinked, disoriented for a moment, before remembering where I was. *The Royal Wraith Pack.* Far from Alaric. Far from the pain. A fresh start. A new life. The thought sent a thrill through me, and I couldn’t help but squeal softly into my palms. No more chains—literal or invisible. No more being treated as less than nothing. Here, I was at peace. I pushed myself out of bed and crossed the room, flinging the curtains wide. Golden sunlight bathed my face as I inhaled the crisp morning air, savoring the unfamiliar scents of this foreign land. It smelled of pine and dew, of hearth-smoke and earth. Nothing like the stifling bitterness of Alaric’s pack. The mirror in the bathroom caught my reflection as I splashed water on my face. My fingers traced the jagged scar running down my cheek, a permanent reminder of my mistakes. *If only I

Meanwhile at Alaric’s Pack.. While Mira had successfully smuggled Silas out of the pack, Valerie remained behind, scheming. The chaos around her was nothing but noise—background static to the real prize: her coronation. And she would make it happen. *Soon.* Valerie’s POV: I stormed out of my father’s quarters, my vision blurred with furious tears. I had gone to him for guidance—for reassurance—but instead, he had given me a weapon. His words slithered through my mind, venomous and slick: *"You’re a woman, Valerie. A beautiful one. Use that. Make him want to speed this up."* My hands clenched at my sides as I strode down the dimly lit hallway, my breath ragged. The implication was clear. I was nothing more than a bargaining chip, a tool to be wielded. But if that was the game they wanted to play, then fine. I would play it better than any of them. Slamming my chamber door behind me, I tore off my red cloak and flung it onto the hanger. My reflection in th

Back at The Royal Wraith Pack: Princess Elara’s POV: The royal court hummed with quiet deliberation as I sat at the round table with the elders, reviewing tax revisions for the coming season. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the stone walls, and the scent of aged parchment and ink lingered in the air. And just then— The heavy oak doors groaned open. All eyes snapped toward the interruption. A guard stood at the threshold, his armor slightly crooked, breath uneven as if he’d sprinted here. He didn’t even knock. How dare he? “Elders,” he greeted with a stiff bow before his gaze flickered to me. “My princess.” “I believe you’ve lost your manners.” I exhaled sharply through my nose. “Or is it that you fail to recognize the weight of matters being discussed here?” He flinched. “I-I apologize—” “Get out,” I flicked my wrist dismissively and turned back to the scroll before me. “Forgive me, Princess—but the law demands I speak

Thalia’s POV: It was *him*. The man from last night. My breath hitched, my pulse roaring in my ears like a trapped beast. The air thickened, pressing against my lungs as if the very room conspired to suffocate me. My nails bit into my clammy palms, the sting a feeble anchor against the storm inside me. *Moon Goddess, please. Don’t let him say anything—* “Thalia.” Princess Elena’s voice snapped me back. Her gaze pinned me in place, sharp as a blade’s edge. “Yes, my lady.” The words barely escaped, my voice a fragile thing. I dipped my head slightly, a practiced show of deference—anything to avoid the weight of their stares. She exhaled, slow and deliberate, her fingers flexing against the gilded back of the throne before she rounded it and settled into the seat. “I trust you’ve been enjoying your stay?” Her tone was casual, surprisingly. “Y-yes, my lady. Thank you for your kindness.” My fingers twisted in the fabric of my skirt, my gaze fixed on the f