The Alpha’s Rejected Mate Reborn のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

Sophia's POVI stood above the blank spot where Lila had stood, my body yelling in pain. Every muscle felt like it was ripping. Every breath burned like flames in my chest. The ritual had sucked me dry, but somehow I was still on my feet. Still aware. Still breathing, though just hanging on.But something felt off. The win I should've tasted wasn't hitting. Instead, this twisting knot in my stomach. This awful gut feeling that I'd overlooked something big.Then her laugh hit. Started quiet, almost soft, like chimes on a warm wind. But it built. Got louder. Turned taunting. Turned into the noise of someone who'd just beat a game I didn't even know was on."Did ya really figure it'd be that simple?" Lila's voice echoed from all over and nowhere. "Did ya honestly think I'd just stand around and let ya wreck me? After years of scheming? After giving up everything to hit this point?"I whipped around, hunting for her. My sight was fuzzy from being wiped out, from the hurt, from the massive

Sophia's POVMarcus's body smacked the ground with a gross thud. He was still pulling air, just barely, but I could tell the wreck Lila's power did to him. His chest was a mess of charred skin and bare bones. He had minutes tops. Maybe fewer.But he'd pulled it off. For real. He'd yanked Lila's nabbed energy straight out and wrecked the shift she'd chased for seventy-three years. The ritual was trashed. Not paused. Fully busted. The spells holding her new shape were out. Spread thin. Gone to nothing.Lila was in front of me, no more shining with holy glow. No more throwing off force that twisted the world. She seemed almost regular again. Almost human. Almost open to hurt. But the fire in her eyes was far from human. It was straight hate. Straight rage. Straight evil boiled down to one hot urge to make me pay."He turned on me," she said, voice rough. Cracked. Like Marcus's give-up had ripped something deep in her. "After all I handed him. After the strength I fed him. After making hi

Sophia's POVI was fading away. I knew it with the same sureness as my own name. My body had been driven past what any werewolf could handle, past survival. The ritual had scorched through me like acid, eating up everything that kept me going. My heartbeat was all over the place. My breaths were short. Every part of me was begging for a break, for an end, for the calm that only checking out could offer.But I wasn't gone yet. Somehow, against all odds, I was still awake. Still picking up on things. Still catching what was going down around me.Marcus was sprawled a few feet off. His chest was a wreck of charred skin and snapped bones. He stared up at the sky with eyes that saw zilch anymore. He seemed at ease in death. More at ease than I'd ever caught him alive. He'd grabbed his fix. Done one decent thing after ages of bad calls. Saved me when he could've just let me go.I hoped it meant something. Hoped the Moon Goddess would cut him slack. Hoped his last give-up would stack against

Ethan's POVThe funeral pyre got set up on the top hill looking out over Ironclad Pack land. It was how we did things. When fighters dropped in a scrap, they got burned under the wide sky so their smoke could hit the Moon Goddess. So she could lead 'em to the endless hunts beyond. So they could roam free forever.Twelve pyres lined up. Twelve fighters who'd gone in with us and never made it back. Their bodies wrapped in white fabric, fixed up by kin per pack ways. Weapons laid next. Bits from loved ones. All they'd need for the trip ahead.The whole pack showed. Not just Ironclad. Folks from Embermoon came. From Silverpine. From a bunch more packs. Hundreds of wolves planted quiet, heads down, showing respect to those who'd dumped everything.Sophia was up front. Still beat. Still mending. But no way she'd stay flat for this. Pushed to be here, to talk, to respect the gone herself. Dressed black. Plain. Nice. Hair back. Face pale but steady. Looked like her. An Alpha. A boss. Someone

Violet's POV The ceremony was meant to be gorgeous. That's what folks kept repeating while they fixed the flowers, lit candles, and smoothed out their nicest outfits with steady hands. Gorgeous. Full of meaning. A real gift from the Moon Goddess. I'd caught those words so often in the buildup that they lost all punch, just noise to plug the quiet when nobody knew what else to toss out. I hung at the edge of the ritual area, watching the group come together, and I kept telling myself I was okay. I was Violet. I was always okay. I'd gotten through stuff that'd crush most folks, and I'd done it without blinking, without begging for a hand, without showing anybody the bits of me that were tender and frightened and flat-out worn. I wasn't gonna crumble over some mating ritual. Then they said his name. Max. It hit the square in my chest like a rock hurled from far