บททั้งหมดของ Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 78

POV: LutherBy evening, the Keep smelled of lime and ash, fresh plaster laid over stone that remembered too much.Crews worked in quiet lines, hanging ward sigils where banners once burned, sealing cracks, setting scent keys to Olivia’s name on every threshold.“Perimeter doubled,” Garron said, marking the map. “Outer patrols on the hour.”“Good. No blind corners. No heroics. If anything breathes wrong, call it.”He hesitated. “You’ll ask her again?”“Yes.”He gave a half-smile. “Then don’t ask like an Alpha.”“I won’t,” I said, and left before my face betrayed how much I wanted to beg.Her quarters sat between the Keep’s shadow and the outer road neutral ground. A child’s sweater hung from a nail, a small blue flag that made something inside me unclench.I knocked.Olivia opened with her hand still on the latch, shoulders tight. The light turned her hair to brass. She’d borrowed Aria’s shirt; the sight of that quiet alliance nearly undid me.“Red Moon’s defences are active,” I said.

POV: OliviaBy noon the Keep looked flayed banners down, crests gone, plaster pale where pride had hung too long. Fresh timber met the ghost of ash on the ridge path and braided into something that wanted to be hope. I kept my hands in my pockets so they wouldn’t shake.“We’re not moving in,” I told the children. “We’re looking.”Rowan pretended not to care. Lily measured everything with her chin. Daisy held her blanket patch like a talisman. Hyden walked with his shoulder almost touching mine, as if contact could stop the ground from shifting.At the gate, wolves nodded and looked away new manners learning their shape. Inside, saws bit, hammers spoke, ropes creaked. The great doors stood open, iron straps scrubbed to a dull honesty. Elara waited just inside, clean hands, a smear of dust across her cheek like forgotten war paint.“No escorts,” she said. “No speeches.” She studied the children with relief, who didn’t dare breathe too loudly. “He’s in the hall. He kept it empty until yo

POV: Elara Night stayed quiet. We worked under canvas and lamp enough light to see, not to perform. Garron’s crew moved with quiet purpose: ropes coiled, winches oiled, salt kept dry. The pine court well sat close to the hall still learning to be a home. I chose to start here. If any rot remained, I’d cut it near my grandchildren’s laughter. Marcus stood at the edge, leaning on his cane without shame. Pride is for the young. He leaned on wood, not rank. That was mercy enough. “Lines set,” Garron said, pale beneath the grit. “Pump primed. We’ll go slow. If the readings spike” “We stop. We salt. We close,” I said. “No heroics.” He nodded. The pump coughed, then found rhythm. Water climbed, dark first, then clear. The smell rose rust, lime, and that faint sweetness memory leaves behind. “I should’ve done this years ago,” Marcus said. “You should have,” I answered. “You didn’t. So we will.” We lowered the first sensor. It slipped beneath the rim with a soft chime. The line trembl

POV: Olivia The valley still smelled like a wet match. Ash dusted hair and hems, the Hall steps, the river stones where grief had washed its hands and left grey fingerprints. I kept the children on a strip of grass by the east wall where the wind moved. Daisy sorted pebbles by “shiny.” Lily made a crooked crown and set it on Hyden’s head; he sighed and let it be. Rowan used my phone to photograph everything that wasn’t a face. Luther stopped a pace from our blanket and didn’t touch it. Small mercy. Bandage under his rolled sleeve, dirt on his cuffs, eyes that brightened when they found me, then remembered not to. “Olivia,” he said. “Alpha.” I didn’t offer a seat. The word landed. He turned to the children. Lily stared back. Rowan nodded like a man. Hyden watched the horizon. Daisy clutched her whale patch like a seal. “I need to discuss safety,” he said. “Do you?” “There are still threats from the Creed. I want you and the children inside Red Moon territory. Not the Hall,” he