บททั้งหมดของ Returning in Reverse After Betrayal: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

Three days after the battle, we gathered to honor our dead.Seventeen pyres. Seventeen lives lost to Aldric's betrayal and ambition.Marcus's pyre stood at the center. The largest. Not because he was more important than the others—every life was precious. But because he was Beta. Because his sacrifice had saved us all. I stood before it, with Alaric bundled peacefully against my chest in his wrap. Three days old. A relentless three days of vigilance, scanning every shadow for lurking threats.Just three days, and sleep had become a distant memory.“He would have loved to meet him,” Erica said softly beside me. My daughter had been quieter since Marcus's death. More withdrawn. They'd been close—he'd been training her, teaching her to be a warrior.Now that the teacher was gone.&ldqu

“He would have cherished the chance to meet him fully,” Erica murmured, standing close by my side, her voice barely rising above the crackle of unlit pyres.My daughter had grown noticeably quieter since Marcus’s passing. The loss had drawn her inward, into a withdrawn reflection that mirrored my own hidden fractures. They had shared a closeness built on mutual deep respect—he had taken on her training with the dedicated focus of a true warrior, imparting essential skills to forge her into genuine strength. Now that devoted teacher rested forever beyond our reach.“Yet he did meet the child,” I replied softly, adjusting the wrap slightly to settle Alaric more comfortably against my chest. “Your brother draws breath today solely because of Marcus’s final act.”“Does that supposed comfort truly ease the sharp sting at all?” Her voice cracked under the weight of raw, unresolved pain. “He traded his life so that ours could continue onward. But such unfair exchanges tear at the soul withou

Marcus was nothing but a dangerous loose end from the start. That was how Aldric framed it, his voice dripping with cold calculation even while bound in glowing Moonbane chains. He knew far too much about the old Moonbane rituals—the ones our circle still clung to like sacred relics from a forgotten age. He had sniffed out the first hints of corruption long ago, back when Aldric was still quietly testing scattered loyalties among the pack. It had been far easier, Aldric claimed with a twisted smile, to simply remove him than to attempt any futile conversion.Marcus had voiced vague suspicions several months earlier, but he had dismissed them as lingering paranoia born from his scarred history of betrayal and loss. Now those scattered pieces clicked together into a grim, coherent picture that chilled me to the bone: the delayed supply runs that dragged on without explanation, the odd, strained silences that hung over council meetings like uns

Kael and I stayed wrapped in the quiet of the tent long after the rain had softened to nothing more than a whisper against the canvas. Alaric breathed steadily between us, his small warmth a reminder that life kept moving forward no matter how heavy the past felt. The story Kael had shared about the arena and his exile still hung in the air, raw and unfinished. I sensed there was more. I brushed my fingers along his arm and asked softly, “What came after that night? The years alone… what did they do to you?”He let out a slow breath, then began speaking again, his voice low and steady, like he was handing me pieces of himself he had never shown anyone else.“Those first years after exile weren’t the worst,” he said. “I was still angry enough to keep moving. I traveled everywhere, picking up every fighting style I could find. Do you have stupid strong because, honestly, what else was

Three months had passed since the battle that changed everything. Winter arrived in Moonstone with a gentle touch. Light snow covered the ground. The cold nipped at cheeks but never dug deep enough to freeze bones. It felt as if the world had decided to grant us space. Time to draw breath. Time to mend what had broken. No sudden storms arrived to test us further.Alaric had reached three months of age. Each day brought new surprises. He could sit upright on his own. His small back stayed straight as though he practiced in secret moments. He reached for toys with clear purpose instead of random swings of his arms. Soft cooing sounds left his mouth. They carried hints of real words forming underneath.One morning sunlight streamed through the window. I sat rocking him in the quiet light. He turned his head and fixed those large, knowing eyes on me. Then the word came, clear and steady. “Mama.”