All Chapters of The Cursed Alpha’s Wolfless Omega: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

KaelIt rushes outward in a wave, slamming into me, through me, around me. It sears across the battlefield, blinding white for a heartbeat. Every rune on every stone shatters with a crack like snapped bone. The black fog screams — not sound, but feeling — and then evaporates, ripped away in strips.The witch staggers back, her projected form flickering.Garrick drops to his knees, choking, whatever hold she had on him momentarily loosened. Wolves collapse or bow without meaning to, muzzles pressed to the ground as if gravity just doubled.I don’t bow.But my knees almost buckle.Her light doesn’t burn me. It hurts — but only because I’m not used to it. Because I’ve spent so long in the dark that any brightness feels like a wound. The curse inside me writhes, trying to retreat from it, but something holds it in place.Her.She’s holding it.“Elara,” I rasp. My voice scratches out of my throat like it hasn’t been used in years. “What are you doing?”“What I was born for,” she whispers.

The WitchI did not know pain until this moment.Not the kind I crafted, not the kind I stitched into bloodlines or whispered into the bones of dying wolves.This is something older. More violent. A ripping deep inside the seams of my magic — the tearing of a binding I wove with the precision of centuries.And it comes from her.Light.White, merciless light.It seared through the fog, shattered the runes I bled for, cracked open the land and the spell I stitched into the girl before she could form a name on her tongue.Elara.I choke on the sound.The name tastes like ash and betrayal.The Veil — my realm-between-realms, my refuge made of smoke and marrow — spasms violently. Walls buckle. Roots underfoot split open. Shadows tear themselves into ribbons as the last of the moonfire echoes across the planes.I stagger.Me.The one who made kings kneel and Alphas howl.This… child… has undone centuries of careful work with a single choice.My hands tremble. I curl them into fists until m

KaelThe moment the healer’s curtain fell behind me, I regretted leaving.Elara’s absence at my side felt like a limb ripped off without warning. The bond thrummed against my chest like a bird beating its wings against a cage — still alive, but exhausted, restless, afraid.Mine, my wolf rumbled.Close. Keep close.I ignored him.Or tried to.It was like ignoring an earthquake.Ronin matched my stride as we moved down the corridor. His presence was steadying — the kind of steady that came from years of watching me unravel. He wasn’t speaking yet. That meant he was trying to choose the least stupid way to start a difficult conversation.Lucian waited outside the war room, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He straightened when he saw me, nostrils flaring. He smelled the blood. He smelled Elara’s power on me too.The scent hadn’t faded.Good, my wolf growled. Ours.Lucian cleared his throat. “Alpha.”“Report,” I snapped, pushing open the heavy door.The war room was already full — warriors, scout

GarrickBlood tastes different when it’s your own.I drag the back of my hand across my mouth, smearing the metallic tang across my cheek. My ribs grind when I breathe. My throat feels raw from screaming words I never chose. My skin crawls with phantom threads of the witch’s magic—still clinging, still whispering, still hungry.But worst of all—I remember everything.The fog.The voice that wasn’t mine.The moment my limbs stopped belonging to me.The way I lunged at Kael like a rabid hound, snarling his name around a curse I didn’t understand.I remember her light.The girl.Elara.Small. Dirty. Pathetic. The omega I used to kick aside when she got in my way. The girl I traded as though she were a loaf of bread past its expiry. The one I sentenced to Kael like a cruel joke because I wanted to hear the cursed Alpha choke on disappointment.She was supposed to be nothing.She was supposed to be a tool.She was supposed to die.Instead—she shone.And the witch recoiled from her like s

KaelThe scream shatters the hallway.Sharp. Raw. Terrified.Her voice.My body reacts before thought catches up.One moment I’m in the corridor just outside the war room, speaking with Lucian about border rotations.The next—I’m running.No—not running.Shifting.Fur ripples down my spine, claws erupt from my fingertips, teeth elongate in my mouth as I slam into the healer’s wing doorway shoulder-first, splintering wood, growling like a feral beast.I don’t remember choosing the shift.I don’t remember breathing.I only remember her.“Elara!”My voice is half-human, half-wolf, a twisted snarl of fear.Myri jumps aside so fast she nearly trips on her own staff. The curtain is still swaying when I rip it away with enough force to tear the fabric from the ceiling.Elara is thrashing in the cot.Her back arched.Fingers clawing at the sheets.Eyes squeezed shut.Sweat glistening on her brow.Her breath comes in gasps like she’s drowning.My heart stops.Stops.Then slams back to life w