The Alpha King's One-Time Rejected Mate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

The chamber was quiet when the council finally dispersed, only the low hum of the hearth filling the space. Talia’s strength had carried her through the meeting, but now that the weight of duty lifted, exhaustion claimed her.Lucian watched her sway slightly as she stood near the fire. Her shoulders drooped, her eyes dull with fatigue. Without a word, he stepped forward, knelt, and swept her easily into his arms.Talia gasped softly but didn’t protest. She settled against him, her body curling into his chest. Her head rested where his heart beat steady and sure.He carried her through the corridor, past guards who bowed and lowered their eyes. The great doors of their royal suite opened silently before him. Inside, the world seemed still—the air heavy with lavender and the faint metallic scent of storm rolling in through the open window.Lucian set her gently on the edge of the vanity chair. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice quiet, firm, almost reverent.Talia blinked at him, too tir

(Ilode POV)The night air burned sweet.It was everything Mira had promised—cleansing light and divine retribution for a corrupt bloodline. The glass domes collapsed one by one, the sound rolling through the valley like thunder.Ilode smiled faintly. Finally, she thought. They’ll see the truth now.She wiped soot from her palms, ignoring the sting. Her nails were blackened, her breath still thick with the scent of solvent. The witches had done their part; she’d lit the fuse. All that was left was to vanish until the word came down from Mira herself.The ledger still haunted her, though—a single, stupid failure. She had searched the cellar until her hands bled. The book of names, trades, and bloodlines—Mira had said it was the key to proving the royal heirs were cursed. But it hadn’t been there. She’d heard the Luna’s voice in the corridor and had run instead, slipping through the ward before the Alpha’s soldiers arrived.Ilode pressed her back against the cold stone of the village well

Talia POVCasius was already half out of his seat when the first alarm sounded.Not the village sirens.Not fire.This one was sharp, coded—military.“Routes just split,” Alina snapped from the driver’s seat, hands flying over the controls. “False threat flags—three sectors at once.”Casius leaned forward between them, one hand braced on the console. “It’s a trap. They’re forcing staggered exits.”Outside, engines roared as the convoy fractured—vehicles peeling off in different directions, drivers reacting to conflicting threat markers flashing across their HUDs.“Maintain formation,” Lucian’s voice cut in over comms, steady and commanding. “Do not—”Gunfire cracked.Close. Too close.Automatic. Suppressed.Casius swore. “Contact! King’s unit is engaging—north spur.”Talia’s heart slammed against her ribs. She reached instinctively for the bond.Lucian.The connection flickered—hot, sharp, alive.Then—“Lucian?” she called into it.Nothing.The bond pulsed once more, distorted, like a

The Mark AwakensCasius POVThe pines swallowed Ilode’s shadow long before the sound of her steps disappeared.Casius waited, jaw clenched, until even the birds stopped warning her path. He’d done it—let her go. His hand still burned where she’d grasped it in parting, the promise whispered like a curse.She lied to me, Casius. She killed my parents. She’ll burn for it.And then she was gone.He exhaled through his teeth, a thin mist ghosting into the cold air. “Moon help me,” he muttered. “If I’ve just unleashed another monster…”By the time he reached the convoy, smoke had thickened the valley. The land below looked bruised in the dying light—ashes, bodies, silence. Lucian was still holding command in the village, drawing pressure away from the evacuation route. Talia had already been secured in the rear carriage under full guard.Two guards opened the doors as Casius approached.Alina stood near the vehicles, half her hair undone, armor streaked with soot and dried blood. Her eyes l

Talia POVThe air was still heavy with it.Smoke. Fear. The residue of violence clung to stone and steel long after the fires were extinguished and the crowds dispersed. The outpost stronghold sat in the lowlands below the city walls. It was one of the last outposts before reaching the city gates. Built for moments like this—withdrawal, regrouping, survival—but even here, the remnants of the attack a few days earlier lingered.Talia stood near the open windows of the command hall, breathing slowly. The fresher mountain wind had begun to push the worst of it away, thinning the acrid smell of pine and cold stone, but traces remained. Civil unrest left scars that didn’t scrub clean.Her chest ached beneath the bandage. The mark—on the left side above her breast, close to her heart—pulsed faintly, not painful, but aware. Alive. It reacts to tension the way a wound reacts to weather.Below, soldiers rotated watches. The outpost was on alert but no longer braced for immediate violence. That