Semua Bab ALPHA Arthur: The Mate Who Lied: Bab 51 - Bab 60

"Stay behind the desk, Phineas. Don't you fucking move!"Lucian’s voice was a jagged tear in the quiet of the nursery. He didn't look back. His boots were planted wide on the scorched hardwood, his heels digging into the soot. The heavy nursery doors didn't just open; they were punched inward by a hydraulic force that sent splinters of oak whistling through the air like shrapnel."I’m not a damn spectator, Lucian!" Phineas snapped. He snatched a heavy brass lamp from the end table, his knuckles turning a bloodless white. He kept his body positioned between the cribs and the doorway. The shadow-child was silent, those black pits for eyes watching the entrance. The Alpha twin was wailing, a raw, piercing sound that cut through the electrical hum in the room.Ignatius stepped through the ruins of the doorway. He wasn't a man anymore. He was a stuttering, leaking wreck of chrome and necrotic flesh. Black oil sprayed from a severed line in his neck, painting the white wallpaper in rhythmic

"Is the collar straight? It feels like it’s choking me."Phineas didn't wait for an answer. He stared at the silver-framed mirror, his fingers fumbling with the high, stiff neck of the midnight-blue military tunic. The fabric was thick, heavy with gold braid that felt like lead against his shoulders. Behind him, the nursery was gone, replaced by the sterile, cold luxury of the Monarch’s dressing suite.He didn't recognize the face looking back.The "Lunar Burn" had been thorough. His hair, once the color of a wet raven’s wing, was now a shocking, static white. It didn't look like age; it looked like bone. It made his eyes—still that sharp, piercing silver—look like they belonged to an ancient deity rather than a twenty-something man."It's perfect, your Majesty." The tailor bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the marble."Get out."Phineas didn't turn around. He watched the tailor’s reflection scurry away in the glass. The silence that followed was absolute. No wolf-hum. No pack-

"Phineas, stop. Just f**king stop for one second!"The shout echoed off the marble of the east wing. Lucian’s boots thudded against the floor, closing the distance in three predatory strides. He reached out, his hand clamping around Phineas’s bicep. The grip was tight—desperate, not aggressive.Phineas didn't flinch. He didn't even turn his head at first. He just stood there, staring at a portrait on the wall as if the General of the Royal Guard was nothing more than a drafty breeze."Let go, Lucian," Phineas said. His voice was flat. No heat. No anger. Just a void."No. I can’t take the silence anymore. It’s killing me." Lucian’s voice cracked. He moved around, forcing himself into Phineas’s line of sight. His eyes were bloodshot, the golden ring of his irises pulsing with a frantic light. "I can feel your heart, Phineas. I know you're in there. But it’s cold. It’s like looking into a grave. Let me back in. Please."Phineas finally looked at him. He didn't pull his arm away. He let i

"Phineas, wait! Just... stop for one damn second!"Lucian’s hand clamped onto the doorframe, blocking Phineas’s path back to the royal chambers. The Alpha’s chest heaved, his uniform jacket hanging open to reveal the jagged white scars of his nineteen wounds. His red eye burned with a frantic, wet intensity. The hallway was a narrow tunnel of cold stone and flickering torches."Step aside, General," Phineas said. He didn't look up from the leather-bound folder in his hands. He adjusted his white leather gloves, the material creaking softly. "The Council starts in ten minutes. I don't have time for a tantrum.""This isn't a tantrum! It’s us! It’s the bond!" Lucian lunged forward, closing the space until his shadow swallowed Phineas whole. He didn't grab him—not this time. His hands hovered near Phineas’s waist, trembling. "I can feel it, Phin. It’s like a wire stretched too thin. You’re cold. You’re like a goddamn glacier. Let me back in. Just one touch. Let the fated bond do its work.

"He’s bleeding. Why is he bleeding, Solomon?" Phineas gripped the edge of the mahogany table, his knuckles white, eyes locked on the diplomat slumped over a plate of half-eaten venison."I didn't touch him, Mother," Solomon said. The seven-year-old sat perfectly still, his silver-black eyes cold, reflecting the flickering candlelight of the Great Hall. He didn't blink. He didn't reach for his juice. He just watched the man’s nose leak a thick, dark crimson onto the white lace tablecloth."The hell you didn't!" Abram barked, slamming his small fist onto the wood. The Golden Boy of the pack, already sporting the broad shoulders of an Alpha-to-be, stood up, his chair screeching against the stone floor. "You were staring at him. You were doing that... thing.""Abram, sit down," Phineas commanded, though his voice lacked its usual steel. He looked at the diplomat—a man who, moments ago, had been laughing about 'human queens' and 'diluted bloodlines.' Now, the man’s eyes were rolling back i