Alpha VS Omega' Twin VS Twin (A Dark Werewolf Romance) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

ISLAThe memorial is ready. Center of Rookeries district. Stone monument. Sixty-seven names carved precisely. Each letter perfect. Each name honored.Danny Castellano. Kevin Wu. Lisa Morgan. Sarah Klein. Fifty-three others. All dead. All remembered. All carved in permanence."It's beautiful," Marie says. Danny's sister. Crying. Grieving. Surviving. "He would have hated it. Too sentimental. But beautiful.""He would have loved that we remembered," I correct. "That we didn't forget. That we didn't move on too quickly."The community gathers. Wolves. Vampires. Fae representatives. Humans. Everyone who fought. Everyone who survived. Everyone who remembers.Two hundred people. Maybe more. Filling the space. United in grief. United in memory. United in survival.Callum speaks first. He's exhausted. Struggling. But present. Leading even when breaking."Sixty-seven people died in the battle. They died for the right to exist. For the right to community. For the right to be recognized as people

POV: Silas | The RookeriesThe back room of Silas's shop smelled like old paper and older death, which suited him fine. He had always lived between those two things.Seven wolves sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. Young ones, most of them. Two were barely past their first transformation. One still had the confused look of someone who hadn't quite accepted what they were yet. Silas recognized that look. He'd worn it himself, two centuries ago, before he understood that acceptance was the only tool that kept you breathing.He set a leather-bound ledger on the table between them. The cover was cracked and dark with age, the pages inside dense with handwriting so small it looked like insect tracks."Every supernatural death in London from 1817 to present," he said. "Every conviction. Every disappearance. Every extermination attempt." He tapped the cover once. "I've survived five of them. Five times Parliament decided wolves, or fae, or something else that made them nervous nee

POV: Cormac | London, Neutral FlatMoira had rented a flat in Clerkenwell, which was far enough from Kensington that Cormac's pack wouldn't see him coming and going, and close enough to the Rookeries that it felt like a statement he hadn't made yet. He didn't know if she'd chosen it deliberately. He'd stopped assuming he understood her choices the moment he realized he'd never started.Finn was asleep in the back room. Cormac could hear him breathing from the hallway. Even breathing, deep and slow. A healthy born wolf's lungs, already strong at fourteen months.He was sitting on Moira's couch when she came back from putting the baby down, and he was trying to figure out how to say the thing he'd come here to say in a way that wouldn't make her immediately tell him to leave.She sat across from him. She didn't offer tea, which was Moira saying she wasn't sure how long he'd be staying."You wanted to talk," she said."I want to propose."She looked at him for a long moment. Her face was

POV: Multiple | London, Various LocationsSix months after the Battle of the Rookeries, London's supernatural community was not at peace. But it was at something that looked like peace from a distance, which was, historically speaking, the closest most cities ever got.Here is where things stood.Callum Brennan led the Rookeries Autonomous Zone, which was what the territory was called now in Parliament documents, though nobody who actually lived there used that name. They called it the Rookeries, same as always. Two hundred and forty wolves under his informal authority, not a pack in the traditional sense because traditional packs had Alphas and submission hierarchies and Callum had refused both. He called it a community. Parliament called it a security concern. Mordaunt called it an experiment he was waiting to see fail.Callum himself was harder than he'd been at the trial. Prison had started that process and the last year had finished it. He had scars on his left hand that would nev

POV: Vampire Bureaucrat | Parliament Administrative Office, WhitehallThe office of Supernatural Regulatory Affairs occupied the third floor of a building that looked like a solicitor's firm from the street, which was intentional. The humans who worked in the building below never came up to the third floor. The lock on the stairwell door ensured that, along with a mild compulsion ward that made anyone who touched the handle suddenly remember something urgent they needed to do elsewhere.Reginald Holt had worked in this office for forty years, which in vampire terms was barely an apprenticeship, but in bureaucratic terms made him the institutional memory of the entire department. He knew where every form lived. He knew which regulation superseded which other regulation. He knew, most importantly, how long each approval process was legally permitted to take before it became actionable delay.The answer, in most cases, was a very long time indeed.He pulled the Rookeries file from the st