Lahat ng Kabanata ng Killed and Reborn: My Alpha’s Obsession : Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 160

Maybe both.“What do we do with him?” Talia asked, nodding at the mud‑soaked boy.He flinched under the attention.“Please,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t know what was in them. I just needed a coin. My mother—”“Stop,” Rin said.He did, mid‑plea, eyes wide. She scrubbed a hand over her face.“Do you know the mark?” she asked. “The circle and the hook.”He hesitated.One of the Nightfang wolves took a step forward. Kael held up a hand without looking.“Yes,” the boy whispered. “I’ve seen it. On rocks. On doors. On… on wrists.” His gaze dropped to his own forearm, covered by wet sleeve. “They say it means balance. That… that the old goddess is watching again. If we give her what she’s owed, she’ll make things right.”“And you believe that?” Kael asked.The boy’s jaw clenched. “I believe my mother hasn’t left her bed in three weeks. I believe our well went dry while Blackmoon filled theirs. I believe Nightfang took two more goats than they paid for from my uncle’s herd.” His voice shook,

But sending me home because it fits your fear?” she said. “That is you letting your story drive you instead of you driving it. That’s exactly what we swore we’d pull each other back from.”His jaw worked.“So what,” he said, rough. “We do nothing? Walk you right into their ritual and hope?”“No,” she said. “We change the shape.”Rhea’s brows rose. “Go on.”Rin stabbed a finger at the map.“They’re planning for an heir dragged or led into a circle blindsided,” she said. “Or one who storms in on righteous fury. They’re not planning for one who knows the script and refuses to hit her cues. We use what we know. We let them think they’re pulling strings, and we cut them as we go.”“That’s very poetic,” Deren muttered. “How do you plan to cut a circle we haven’t seen yet?”“By not going in as a sacrifice,” Rin said. “Or as an asset to be guarded. By going in as what I actually am: someone they want to use, who refuses. And by taking with me the man they want to frame as their knife, who als

Dawn came thin and grey, leaching the world of color.Rhea kicked at bedrolls with scant mercy. “Up. If you’re not on your feet in two minutes, I’m feeding your boots to the horses.”Rin surfaced from a shallow, knot‑tight sleep with a jaw full of grit and a spine that ached in three places. Her dreams clung—stone, chanting, a knife whose edge she never quite saw—then shredded under cold air and motion.Around her, the camp unfolded into its practiced chaos. Bedrolls rolled, fire doused, horses saddled, harness buckled. The only unusual note was the way two figures moved around each other without looking: Kael on one side of the clearing, checking straps on his stallion with meticulous care; Rin on the other, running her hands down her gelding’s legs, eyes on the leather and not on him.Their last conversation hung between them like a ward they hadn’t meant to raise.Rhea, of course, noticed.She watched them a moment as she tightened her own girth, expression unreadable, then jerked

The southern road widened as it sloped toward the copper valley, curling along the mountainside like a rough‑hewn scar. It was the kind of path caravans liked—broad, predictable, room enough for carts, and the kind of arguments that only broke out when wheels got stuck.Today, it held six mounted wolves, riding too quiet.Jax tried to fill the silence for the first half‑hour. Stories about a Nightfang pup who’d gotten his tongue stuck to an ice post on a dare. Complaints about Rhea’s idea of “breakfast.” An elaborate theory about why goats were secretly vengeful spirits.Rhea let him yammer until the trees thinned and the wind shifted, carrying the faint sour of old ore. Then she cut him off with a sharp, “Enough,” and he subsided into a mutter.The quiet that followed felt heavier. More deliberate.Kael took the lead because everyone expected him to. His stallion moved easily under him, hooves eating up the packed dirt. To his left, the slope fell away into a shallow bowl of scrub an

The charm went off like a swallowed spark.Heat flashed against Rin’s breastbone. For a heartbeat, the world stuttered—edges blurring, lines of magic she couldn’t quite see yawning open under her skin.Then Talia’s work snapped its jaws.The almost‑circle at Rin’s feet shuddered. The faint etchings hidden beneath the straw flared dull, bruised purple instead of clean white. Power that had been waiting—banked like embers—lurched sideways, bleeding into the ground with a sullen hiss.Several cultists staggered. One gasped, clutching at the charm around his neck as if it had bitten him.“What did you—” the marked woman began.“Ruined your pretty lines,” Rin said.Everything broke at once.The humming behind the ring tried to swell into chant, but the first word stuck halfway out of throats as Talia’s second knot—the tongue‑tangler—unfurled. Air thickened around mouths; syllables slid and snagged like bad thread. What came out was a ragged, discordant noise, more cough than invocation.Se