Lahat ng Kabanata ng Killed and Reborn: My Alpha’s Obsession : Kabanata 201 - Kabanata 210

They broke at last for food.The neutral keep’s dining hall was long and low, its ceiling crisscrossed with blackened beams and lantern chains. Tables had been set in two parallel rows, no formal division between Blackmoon, Nightfang, and neutrals—just benches and bowls and the smell of stew and fresh bread masking the day’s sharp tang of old arguments.Rin took a wooden bowl and let a ladle of thick, vegetable‑heavy stew slop into it. Her head buzzed faintly with fatigue; the words from the chamber still clung to her ribs. *I’ll hold them* *That’s the trade.*She found a place at the end of a bench near one of the hall’s pillars, with a view of both doors and the length of the room. Lucian sat a little ways down, already occupied with a Nightfang scout who wanted to compare border routes. Aria was at another table altogether, locked in a quiet conversation with Maerin. Veyra had been swallowed by a knot of elders.Good. Let them talk. Let them chew on what she’d said without her star

"Brace!” the digger barked, more out of instinct than command. Rin threw up an arm, magic flashing in a small, tight burst—not an altar‑shattering surge, just a shove to redirect a falling slab of sod so it thudded harmlessly to the side instead of caving in their narrow cut. “Don’t do that too often,” the Nightfang scout panted, eyes wide. “You shake things the wrong way. We’re all under it.” “I know,” Rin said through her teeth. Her heart thundered. Power still felt too big in her, too capable of cracking more than she meant to. They inched forward. The tunnel was barely wide enough for one at a time, braced with scavenged planks wedged against the shifting ceiling. The healers waited just outside the worst of it, ready with splints and cloth. “Again,” Rin called. “Tessa, talk to me.” “Here,” came the reply closer now. “My—my leg’s stuck. Auntie—” a sob “—Auntie’s not moving.” “We’re coming,” Rin said. “It’s going to hurt. Don’t sleep.” It felt distantly, like something

The drafting room was smaller than the council chamber and a great deal colder.No banners here. No tiers of benches. Just four stone walls, a long, scarred table, shelves of rolled parchments, and a narrow window admitting a wedge of gray light. Someone had lit a brazier in the corner; it smoked a little, the faint bite of char drifting under the steadier smell of ink.Rin liked it better than the big hall already.Rowan sat on the table’s edge, one boot braced on the bench, arms folded. Veyra had claimed a chair near the window, her profile cut in pale lines against the mist. The neutral facilitator occupied his usual place with his neat stack of notes. On Nightfang’s side, an older wolf with ink‑stained fingers—Serren, their legal mind—watched the empty parchment in front of them like it was a puzzle that would eventually give up its secrets.Kael dropped into the seat opposite Rin, shoulders still carrying the stiffness of too many hours on sandbags and not enough sleep.Between t

Nightfang smelled like wet stone and smoke when they rode back in.The storm that had battered the neutral valley had lashed this one, too. Water still dripped from the overhangs of the great cliff, tracing dark lines down black rock. The air was cooler here than at Blackmoon, holding the deep, mineral tang of the hot springs that steamed faintly at the valley’s heart.Kael felt the wards brush over his skin as he crossed the threshold—familiar, grounding, and a little tighter than before. Someone had reinforced them in his absence.Wolves watched from ledges and walkways as the returning party passed under the carved arch. Some eyes lit with relief, others narrowed. News of the joint council and of the code had outrun them.Maerin dismounted at the base of the central stair. Her gaze flicked up the cliff where Nightfang’s main hall was carved into the rock, then out across the valley where training yards and dens sat in ordered chaos.“Go sleep,” she told Kael. “Or pretend to. We tal

The speeches happened on the same day, by design.Rin stood on the wide stone steps outside Blackmoon’s main hall as the sun dipped behind the ridge. The courtyard below was packed—wolves of every rank, pups perched on shoulders or sitting cross‑legged on the ground, elders leaning on carved sticks. Banners snapped lazily in the evening wind. No ceremonial fire. No incense. Just wolves gathered in the open because she had asked them to come.In the distance, she knew Kael was doing the same in Nightfang’s central yard beneath the black cliff. They had planned the words together two nights earlier, sitting on the cold floor of the neutral keep, trading lines until the message felt like one voice split across two valleys.She waited until the murmur died down.Then she spoke, voice carrying clearly across the stone.“I am not a miracle,” she said.The words dropped into the crowd like a stone into still water. Ripples of reaction moved outward—some nods, some frowns, a few sharp intakes