Semua Bab The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna: Bab 121 - Bab 130

“What if I’m not enough?” I panted once, forehead pressed to his chest. “What if I can’t… do this? What if something goes wrong and I—”“Hey,” he said, one big palm cupping the back of my head. “Look at me.”I forced my eyes open.His were wet and fierce.“You saved a pack,” he said. “You broke a curse that strangled us for generations. You walked out of a labyrinth that should’ve killed you. You did all that when everyone around you saw you as expendable.”His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek.“This?” he said. “This is the first time you’ve gone into a fight with all of us at your back. With a healer, and a witch, and a Beta, and a best friend, and an entire damn pack outside that door, ready to tear the world apart if it looks at you wrong. You are not alone, Lilah. You don’t have to be enough by yourself. We’re enough, together.”The bond pulsed, echoing his words.Outside, as if on cue, I heard it—the low, rolling murmur of wolves gathering. Feet on the porch. Voices hushed. A p

Bella leaned down and kissed my forehead gently. “You did it,” she whispered. “I’m… so proud of you.” “Couldn’t have done it without my note‑taker,” I murmured. Naomi bent and very carefully pressed a kiss to the top of the baby’s head, eyes shining. “Welcome to the madness, little wolf,” she said thickly. “You picked good people.” Then they were gone, door closing softly. The room felt suddenly huge and intimate at once. Just me. Ronan. Our child. Morwen fussed with something at the foot of the bed, no doubt pretending not to listen. “You should rest,” Ronan said, thumb brushing my cheek. “I don’t want to close my eyes,” I admitted. “What if they… change?” He smiled, tremulous. “They will,” he said. “Every day. That’s the point.” I considered that. The baby made a small, sleepy snuffle. “I guess,” I said. “Still rude of them to grow up on me.” He laughed quietly. I shifted, wincing as sore muscles protested, and looked up at him. “Do you want to hol

POV: Ronan Alpha of a reformed pack. Veterans of too many battles. Survivor of a goddess’s tantrum.Defeated by eight pounds of lung power at three in the morning.Rowan’s scream was impressive, even by wolf standards. Not fear—offense. As if they’d been personally betrayed by the concept of night.“I’ve got them,” I muttered, already rolling out of bed.Lilah made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “We said we’d take turns,” she mumbled into her pillow. “This is technically my turn.”“You did the birth part,” I said. “I can handle this part.”She made a vague hand wave that I chose to interpret as assent and flopped back, boneless.My body protested the sudden verticality. My back ached from too many hours spent hunched over the bassinet, and there was a deep, unfamiliar tiredness in my bones—not the wired exhaustion after a fight. A slow, heavy kind that came from being woken every ninety minutes by someone who couldn’t even hold their own head up yet.I shuffled to the

POV: Lilah Peace used to feel like a lie. Like the quiet between storms, the kind that just meant the next hit would land harder. Now it felt… busy. Breakfast negotiations with a three‑week‑old tyrant. Nap schedules that were more aspiration than fact. Council sessions where no one mentioned altars and the biggest point of contention were whether we had enough supplies to expand the guest cabins before winter. I was in the middle of one of those meetings when the first ripple hit. “—and if we move the south fence ten meters, we can fit two more gardens without encroaching on the—” Tamsin broke off mid‑sentence, head snapping toward the window. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Not curse‑magic. Not god stuff. Wolf. Border. Door hinges creaked a second later. Leo filled the frame, eyes sharp, jaw tight. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, which in Leo‑speak meant, This could wait ten minutes, but I’d rather you didn’t yell at me later. Ronan straightened in

I could’ve quoted the charter.Instead, I thought of the feel of the dagger at my wrist on the altar. The smell of burned magic. The weight of Ronan’s hand over my belly when we’d sworn our child would never be a bargaining chip.“Because I’m done watching kids pay for adults’ fear,” I said simply. “You’re not wrong. Your Alpha was.”Something in his shoulders unclenched, just a hair.A murmur moved through the rogues.Elias’s jaw worked.“Words are cheap,” he said. “Seen a lot of Alphas say pretty things and spill blood anyway when it suited them.”“Then don’t trust the words,” I said. “Trust the rules. They’re written. Witnessed. Signed by people who’ve got more to lose than you do if they break them.”Naomi stepped forward just far enough to be seen, a rolled‑up copy of the charter in her hand.“She’s not kidding,” she said. “We have paperwork. It’s aggressive.”Elias eyed the document like it might bite him.“You got rules about us?” the female rogue asked. “Rogues. Hybrids.”“Yea