Semua Bab The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna: Bab 91 - Bab 100

LilahThe moon rises wrong.It’s not just full—it’s swollen, hanging low over the treeline like an eye that’s been watching too long. The edge that was silver last night is rimmed deeper now, a faint red bloom creeping across its face as it climbs.The air knows.It’s thick, hard to pull into my lungs, and charged like the seconds before lightning. The wards around the compound hum at a pitch that sets my teeth on edge. Every tiny sound—boots on stone, metal on leather, the distant call of an owl—lands too sharp.War drums outside. War drums inside. And under both, a third rhythm—the curse, thrumming in my bones.I stand on the ridge where Ronan and I watched the sky last night.Below, the pack is in motion.Warriors at their posts. Scouts at the outer lines. Evacuees sealed in safer hollows under Morwen’s newer wards. The air is threaded with the scents of sweat, steel, adrenaline, and something older: the particular ozone‑sharp tang of big magic waking up.My chest tightens.The

The world narrows. Every instinct, every plan, every calculation I’ve ever made collapses into the single point of her gold eyes, the tilt of her jaw, the arc of her spine under Jax’s hand. Not again. Not like before. The curse coils around my mind, twisting, whispering. Split. Divide. Save everyone. Lose nothing. I can hear it in the rhythm of my heartbeat, feel it in the pull of the bond, and see it in the tiny line of tension in the pups huddled behind Malric’s platform. You can’t. You never could. A heartbeat later, the memory arrives: the Hall of Ancestors. Fire. Smoke. Screams. The echo of Lilah’s face, pale, terrified, asking silently why I didn’t choose her first. Wolves gone. Pack shattered. And me, a shadow in the center of all of it, trying to be everywhere at once and failing. Every piece of me—the Alpha, the warrior, the protector—wants to calculate, to divide forces, to split myself like I always have. The pups. The pack. Malric’s blade. The throne room. T

POV: Mixed The throne room still trembles from the collision of gold fire and claws. Dust hangs in the air like a second darkness, settling on shattered stone, blood-slick floors, and the remnants of shattered warding sigils.Ronan is breathing hard, muscles coiled like a spring, eyes fixed on Jax, who crouches low, jagged shards of his artifact smoldering at his feet. The gold fire between Ronan and me hums, crackling and alive. It’s not just energy—it’s intent, it’s survival, it’s the culmination of everything we’ve fought for, every choice, and misstep.But the danger isn’t ours alone. Even as we circle Jax, alive with every nerve alert, the pack house trembles in the distance. Malric—the traitor—hasn’t surrendered. He’s moved to enact a twisted version of the curse, and the chaos inside threatens everything we’ve built.I take a breath, the bond thrumming hot and sharp in my chest. Ronan mirrors me, claws flexing, eyes scanning, and for a moment, we’re both aware of something big

POV: LilahThe battlefield was still.Not just quiet—still. The echoes of fire and shattered stone hung in the air like smoke in a cavern. Dust settled slowly over broken weapons, scorched earth, and bodies sprawled across the courtyard. I could hear nothing but my own ragged breaths and the faint, trembling heartbeat in my chest that matched the tremor of the world around me.Jax was gone—or at least his shadow had lifted. The shards of his dark magic, the jagged edges of his power that had slashed through the air like knives, were scattered and spent. The rogue pack members who had followed him either lay unconscious, flee, or sank to their knees, eyes wide, trembling, as if some invisible hand had stripped away all the compulsion he’d held over them.And then there was Ronan.I stumbled forward, my legs heavy, my hands trembling. Smoke curled around my ankles, dust clinging to sweat and blood, but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered but him.Ronan lay on the cracked stone, chest

POV: Lilah The morning sun crept slowly through the broken windows, casting long, gold streaks across the ruined pack hall. Dust floated lazily in the shafts of light, glittering like embers, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world seemed unburdened. I sat beside Ronan, watching his chest rise and fall in steady, measured rhythm. His eyes had been closed when I arrived, but now, just barely, they flickered open, letting in the light of day and, somehow, the warmth of hope. I couldn’t stop staring. He was alive. Truly alive. And unlike before, nothing pressed against us from the shadows. No curse. No ancient chain demanded our obedience. No threat that one misstep would shatter what we had fought so hard to claim. I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for his hand. It was still weak from the fight, still shaky with the strain of survival, but it was real. Solid. His fingers twined with mine, cautious yet sure, as though testing gravity itself to s