The Alpha King's One-Time Rejected Mate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

The elders didn’t knock.They didn’t bow.They swept into the ward as if they owned it.The doors had barely opened before Lucian turned—fast, fluid, lethal. His wolf surged beneath his skin, gold eyes igniting as his body angled instinctively between the intruders and the cradles. The air shifted with his movement, wards humming in warning.Talia felt his tension through the bond, like a wire pulled too tight.Pain flared along her ribs as she pushed herself upright in the bed, refusing to look weak. Refusing to look breakable.Their sons.That was why the Council was here.The eldest elder stepped forward, silver hair bound, robes heavy with sigils that smelled of old magic and older arrogance. His gaze slid past Lucian, past Talia, and locked onto the three cradles arranged in a loose circle around the glowing sigil etched into the stone floor.Not concerned.Not awe.Inventory.“Your Majesty,” the elder said at last. “Queen Talia.”His eyes never returned to her.Lucian’s lip curl

(Dorian’s POV)The purge did not begin with screams.It started with silence.A ripple of awareness passed through the pack like a held breath—wolves pausing mid-step, guards stiffening at their posts, sentinels turning their heads as if they had heard something just beyond sound. Dorian felt it everywhere at once, the sudden tightening of invisible threads snapping into alignment with his will.He moved.Not toward the throne. Not toward Lucian.The palace corridors blurred as he walked, power coiling tight beneath his skin. Wolves parted instinctively, some bowing their heads, others watching him with wide, uncertain eyes. Fear flickered—then obedience followed. That, more than anything, told him the truth.They felt it too. He was still one of them—simply the one who would protect them now.Cassius fell into step beside him without a word, armor already strapped on, blade secured at his hip, a Glock holstered under his left arm. His presence was solid, anchoring, but Dorian could f

Black River remembered what it was.The valley no longer sagged beneath the weight of Mira’s blood-soaked rituals. The land stood taller now, as if it had finally been allowed to breathe. Pines once gray and brittle had deepened into full, living green, their branches rolling in slow waves with the wind. The river that cut through the territory ran clear—no steam, no sour magic clinging to its banks. Its scent was clean stone and moss, touched with the faint metallic truth of honest blood instead of sacrifice.Thomas stood on the upper terrace and watched his pack move.Below him, the training fields churned with disciplined violence. The Warriors ran intersecting drills, shifting mid-charge, colliding in controlled strikes before breaking and reforming. Boots struck dirt. Paws tore shallow grooves into the ground. Commands snapped through the air, followed by the crack of fists against shields and the heavy thud of bodies hitting earth. Dust rose in thin veils, glowing gold in the af

Talia arrived moments after the nanny cam caught the newest incident.She didn’t walk.She ran—wolf-speed down stone corridors, past guards who snapped to attention and then struggled to keep up. Her bare feet struck the floor like thunder. Her lungs burned. Her body still ached from healing magic and childbirth, but fury carried her where exhaustion could not.When she reached the nursery doors, she shoved them open.Heat rolled out first—stale and smoky, clinging to the air like a warning.The walls were scorched again.Not a singe. Not an accident.A long black streak clawed up the stone near the toy shelves, and fire dragged across the wall as if by an invisible hand. It was the fifth time in as many months. The toys were ruined—again. A wooden wolf puzzle had melted into a warped lump. A stuffed stag lay blackened at the seam. The warded curtains, replaced twice already, still smelled faintly of char.And the nanny—sweet, exhausted, terrified—sat on the rug cradling Reign as if n

Talia knew the peace was fragile, but still, she was not ready when her sister came to her the next morning.Alina knocked, and Talia watched her approach through the vanity mirror.Without a word, Alina reached for the brush and offered to tend her sister’s waist-length tresses—something she hadn’t done in many years.Talia met her gaze in the glass.And she knew."You are leaving us now?" she asked softly.Alina looked back at Talia in the mirror. It was easier that way. Unshed tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She pressed her lips together and could only nod her head.Talia stood up slowly and hugged her sister. She whispered. "Thank you for staying as long as you have. For giving my sons a chance to know their aunt."Alina replied, "I love you." Then, "We have stayed longer than we should have, and I pray we did not cause harm to the ones who need us."Amalia POVThe circle should have closed softly.Shadowmere magic was ancient—mysterious, yes, but always elegant. Its rituals un