Lahat ng Kabanata ng Killed and Reborn: My Alpha’s Obsession : Kabanata 191 - Kabanata 200

The pups were already arguing when Rin walked into the south practice yard.The space had always been half‑training ground, half informal classroom: packed dirt, a rack of worn practice weapons along one wall, chalk‑stained slate propped on a crate, a crooked circle of stumps and overturned buckets for seats. Late sun poured in low and gold, catching dust motes in the air and turning them into drifting sparks.Rowan lounged against the wall near the slate, arms folded, watching the cluster of pups and half‑grown teens with that particular expression he wore when he was about to cause trouble in the name of education.“Is this a strategy session or a squabble?” Rin asked, stepping into the circle.A dozen faces turned toward her. The youngest were perhaps eight or nine, knobbly knees and too‑big tunics; the oldest were on the edge of full warrior training, shoulders broadening, eyes already too used to watching.“Both,” Rowan said cheerfully. “You’re late. I told them they could ask yo

The keep settled into its nighttime noises—muted footsteps in the halls, the occasional bark of laughter from the guards’ room, the distant creak of timbers shifting as the stone cooled. Somewhere, a pup yipped in its sleep, shushed by a murmured voice.Rin stood in her doorway, hand on the latch, listening to it all.Then she crossed the corridor and knocked once on Kael’s door.There was a brief scuff of movement inside, and then the latch lifted. Kael opened the door wearing a loose shirt and trousers, hair unbound, the hard lines of the day’s armor gone from his shoulders.For a heartbeat, they just looked at each other.“Come in,” he said.His room had the bare, practical feel of a temporary space: travel pack half‑open on the chair, cloak laid out on the foot of the bed, boots by the wall. The only things that made it his were small—his knife on the bedside table, blade cleaned and oiled; a folded scrap of leather Rin recognized as the fidget piece he worried between his fingers

The proposal didn’t come as a speech.It came as parchment.Rin found the Nightfang letter on her desk after morning drills, the wax unbroken, the crest pressed deep. Beside it lay a second scroll in Blackmoon colors, Aria’s neat hand tucked into the corner of the seal as if to say: *Yes, I know. I’m not pretending I don’t.*She stood a moment, sweat still drying on her neck from the yard, and looked at them both.Two valleys. Two scripts. One idea.She broke Aria’s seal first.Her mother’s writing ran straight and spared down the page:> Nightfang’s council has sent a formal inquiry regarding the possibility of a mating bond between heirs as the foundation of a permanent alliance. > > Before they approached us, they approached you, I’m sure. We will not answer without speaking with you first. This is not a decision we will make on your behalf. > > Come to the evening council if you wish to discuss it with us present. Or don’t. You may also tell us to stay out of it entirely.

The road out of Blackmoon curved along the ridge before dropping into the old trade valley. Rin rode near the front of the column, the wind knifing through her cloak, the taste of stone, and pine sharp on the back of her tongue.Behind her came the rest of the delegation: Aria and Lucian side by side, Rowan riding with the scouts, Mara, and a pair of record‑keepers on the supply wagon. Veyra sat her horse with the kind of easy discipline that made the animal look like an extension of her spine, not a separate creature.They moved under Blackmoon banners, but the air felt different than it had the last time Rin had ridden this way. Then, she’d been flanked, guarded, carried on the story of *lost‑then‑found heir* whether she wanted it or not.Now, wolves gave her space at the head of the line without being told to. When Rowan trotted up to check the order, he addressed her first.“We’ll hit the river fork by midday,” he said. “From there, neutral valley path. Scouts say Nightfang came i

They didn’t give her long to breathe.The question about the bond slid into the record like a stone into a river, ripples spreading. Then the current took them back to the agenda, to the thing that had been coiled under every report: what they would tell their people when they went home.“We have three paths,” the neutral facilitator said, his voice even. “We can say little and hope rumors burn out. We can offer a simple, unified account. Or we can present a more… detailed truth and trust our packs to weather it.”His eyes went first to Aria, then to Maerin. Deference to Alphas. Habit.Aria’s fingers tapped once, soundless, on the wood.“Blackmoon has already heard much,” she said. “We told them their heir was targeted by a cult. We told them she was bound to an altar and broke it.” A brief, sharp glance at Rin—acknowledgement, not apology. “There are already stories we didn’t shape. I’d rather direct them than chase them.”Maerin’s mouth pulled sideways. “Nightfang’s seen what happen