บททั้งหมดของ The Cursed Alpha’s Wolfless Omega: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 76

ElaraI don’t sleep that night.Not really.I drift in and out, wrapped in the warmth of Kael’s scent, but peace never comes. Every time I close my eyes, I see silver light spilling from my skin, feel the echo of bones shifting, ancient power cracking through me like a shell breaking open.My wolf whispers in my mind — steady, calm, ancient.We were always more than we were allowed to be.And Kael…He lies beside me again.He pretends he’s dozing, breathing slow, arm resting above me on the pillow, but I feel the truth — the tension in him, the way he’s coiled like a hunter waiting for a threat. Or a man afraid of one.The secrets in my chest feel heavier than any stone.I should tell him.He deserves the truth.He deserves to know what he’s tied to.But the words don’t come.Because once I say them, I can’t ever be just Elara again.I become legacy.Threat.Heir.A piece on a board I never wanted to play.⸻Sometime past midnight, sleep finally drags me under.Darkness gathers first

ElaraI don’t remember falling asleep again.One moment I was staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, the Moon Goddess’s voice echoing through my bones. The next, a blush of dawn stains the horizon outside the window — soft gold bleeding into the edges of night.Kael is awake already.He sits at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. The early light paints his back in amber and shadow, muscles tense, hair tousled like he fought demons in sleep.Maybe he did.Maybe I did too.I push myself up slowly. “Kael?”He doesn’t turn at first — he closes his eyes instead, jaw flexing like he’s fighting himself.Then he exhales and looks back at me.His gaze is hungry and haunted all at once, like he spent the night trying to build walls and tore every one down instead.“Elara.”Just my name, but it feels like a vow — and a surrender.“You said this morning.” His voice is low, rough. “You would tell me.”I nod. My heartbeat is too loud, too frantic. “I will.”His eyes searc

UnknownI felt her breath before I heard her name again.It was like the world itself inhaled — a sudden, sharp intake that pulled through every leyline I’d ever touched, rattling the bones of my oldest work. The air sang with silver. The ground whispered her true name.Elara.The sound of it nearly split me open.Because she should have never existed again.I made certain of that.The first time I saw her, she was nothing more than a wailing infant — pale skin, black hair, eyes like starlight swallowed by storm. Beautiful, yes. But dangerous in the way prophecies are dangerous: unshaped, untested, and utterly beyond control.Her father was a king of wolves once — a Northern Alpha who carried royal blood in his veins and pride sharper than any blade. He built alliances like fortresses, bred loyalty like fire, and had the Moon’s favor.That was what made him dangerous.And Garrick’s father feared him for it.That old wolf came to me wrapped in desperation and power. He was not yet dyin