Killed and Reborn: My Alpha’s Obsession のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

*Aria*By day, I trained my body until it shook.By night, I burned myself from the inside out.Lucian’s confession had settled in my bones like a stone at the bottom of a river—heavy, unmoving, distorting everything that flowed around it.His father’s bargain.The witch at the border.The mark under his ribs that pulsed and whispered.The way that wrongness recoiled from my touch.“If we’re going to cut at this together,” he’d said, his hand over mine on his chest, “you need to know where the blade might slip.”He was finally giving me truth.I owed him the same from my side.Which meant I needed to stop playing with my power like it was a party trick and start treating it like the knife it clearly was.That night, after the manor had sunk into its usual post‑dinner murmur and then quiet, I barred my door, shoved the small chest aside to give myself space on the floor, and sat down cross‑legged in the middle of my rug.Candle.Bowl of water.Plain metal ring I’d used to tie back my b

*Aria*Rumors had a way of making everything louder.Every glance lingered a little longer.Every whispered conversation seemed to cut off a heartbeat too late when I walked by.The letter from Reynold’s Crossing sat folded in my pocket like a hot coal, its words burned into my brain.*Two Alphas circle the same moon.* *A cursed Alpha. A human Luna. A Nightfang wolf who wants her for himself.*Some itinerant traders had put our lives into a tavern story, and now strangers were drinking to it.Witches loved stories like that.I could almost feel her attention turning this way, lazy and amused.Thank the gods I’d never asked for romance.Because whatever this mess was, it didn’t feel like love songs.It felt like a battlefield.Mine.I stood in front of my tiny warped mirror, fingers resting lightly on the wood, and admitted something I’d been dancing around for days.“I can’t break curses, avenge myself, and survive a war while my heart is a battlefield too,” I said softly.The girl

*Aria*We walked back to the manor in a silence that felt heavier than the muffled air around the witch’s tree.The wrongness didn’t stay behind us.It followed.Clung.Every shadow along the path looked too deep. Every gust of wind seemed to carry a whisper just below hearing.My hands still tingled where the heat had surged.It's not pain now.A faint, restless buzz under the skin, like whatever had leaped to incinerate, that doll hadn’t fully settled.Lucian moved ahead of us, senses flared, shoulders tight. He scanned every tree, every ridge, every patch of ground, as if expecting Elyra to step out at any second and applaud.Rhea kept pace beside me, jaw set, fingers never far from the knife at her belt.Rowan trailed slightly behind, lips moving silently in old prayers or half‑remembered wards, one hand gripping the little herb charm at his waist so tightly that some of the dried leaves had crumbled to dust.No one spoke.The manor rose into view like a promise and a lie.Stone w

*Aria*Fear and resolve made strange bedfellows.The night after Lucian’s confession in the yard, I lay awake long after the hearth had died down, staring at the ceiling crack that had become my unwilling confidant.The image replayed, over and over:His fists are bloody from hitting the dummy. My hand on his chest. His voice, raw: *“Please… don’t go near her. Don’t go north. Don’t go to him.”* *“I couldn’t survive it.”*It had rattled something deep in me.The Alpha begging.Not with commands.With fear.For me.I should have felt safer.Instead, I felt… pulled."Harder.The witch’s voice in the forest, Elena’s warnings, Lucian’s vow to give his own blood before he’d let her take mine—they all twisted around each other in my mind, a knot I couldn’t untangle.Sleep eventually dragged me under anyway.It always did.It just wasn’t kind about what it showed me.***The dream started like a memory.The training yard.Early morning sun.Rhea shouting corrections from the side.Lucia

*Aria*The blood on my mirror faded.Mostly.In the days after Elyra’s ultimatum, the letters darkened from wet crimson to dried rust, then slowly thinned to ghostly stains. If you walked into my room without knowing, you might think it was a trick of the warped glass, old age, nothing more.I knew better.Even after the color dulled, I saw the words perfectly whenever I closed my eyes.REBORN GIRL. CURSED WOLF. COME TO ME BEFORE THE NEXT BLOOD MOON… OR I COME TO YOU.The map on my desk didn’t help.It sat there every time I entered the room, a silent dare.The parchment was stiff under my fingers, edges frayed, the ink of old borders and rivers faded but legible. The little X that marked the witch’s last known cabin looked almost innocent.I’d traced it so many times that my fingertip almost knew the route by heart—out past the northern patrol lines, skirting Nightfang’s edge, then veering into the wildest, least‑touched stretch of land.The witch’s den.The spider at the center of t