Semua Bab The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna: Bab 61 - Bab 70

LilahThe screaming stops before the pain does.My throat gives out—raw, shredded—and the sound dies, but the tearing inside me keeps going. It’s quieter now, in a way that makes it worse. Like a saw going through bone after it’s already gone through flesh.The world swims back in fits and starts.I’m upright. Somehow. The light cocooning my legs and waist is the only reason; it holds me in place like I’m pinned in amber. My head lolls, and my vision doubles. The circle blurs into streaks of white and gray.Voices seep through the roar in my ears.“…hold her steady…”“…heart rate—”“—Crone, if you interfere—”“Shut up,” Morwen snaps, clear and cold.The chanting doesn’t stop.Wolves ring the circle still. I can feel their eyes, heavy as hands. Muted gasps. Low growls. A pup crying somewhere in the back shushed too late.“Cursed Luna.” “Sever her, free him.” “She’s not even a real wolf.”That one lands the deepest. Because it’s true. And because it’s everything they’ve never said t

RonanThe world comes back all at once and not at all.Light blasts out from the circle in a hard, white ring—no longer a controlled glow but an explosion. The chalk runes detonate into dust. Candles gutter, then snuff. The air whips my hair back, carrying grit and the scorched stink of burned magic.Wolves drop.Those closest to the circle are flung backward like leaves in a storm. One warrior slams into the ground with a crack of bone. Two others smash into the front ranks and tangle in a snarl of limbs.The witches go down hardest.One pinwheels sideways, staff flying, and robes smoking. Another lands on his back, staff skittering away; he lies there, moaning. The lead witch staggers, screams as lines of seared flesh etch themselves up his forearms where the light recoils.The taste of iron and ash hits the back of my throat.At the center of it all, the light that wrapped Lilah snaps out.She drops like someone cut her strings.Dust hangs in the air, ghostly in the moonlight. For

The sound of her cuts through the fog.I peel my eyes open.It’s like lifting a thousand pounds.Light stabs. I blink against it, lids heavy, until the room swims into focus.Stone walls. Wooden beams. A familiar window. A battered dresser. A chair.Ronan’s room.Of course.I’m on his bed.Of course.Naomi is perched at my feet, eyes huge and bloodshot. Bella is on the floor by the side of the bed, hand fisted in the sheet. Morwen stands at my side, hands still hovering inches over my chest.Ronan—He’s there. A dark shape a few paces back, hands dug into the back of a chair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.For a second, our eyes meet.The bond gives a little throb at the contact.Not the old, full‑body hum. A faint, wrong pulse. Like touching a nerve that’s been burned—more sensation of injury than of connection.I flinch.His face falls, just a fraction.“Hey,” Naomi says, voice wobbling with a laugh that’s too close to a sob. “Look who decided not to die. Overachiever.

LilahThe second time I wake up, no one is hovering.No chanting. No Goddess. No wolf with apology in his eyes.Just sunlight.It cuts through the window in a pale stripe, dust motes spinning in it lazily. The air smells like old smoke and stone and faintly, stubbornly, like him.The ache in my chest has settled from white‑hot to a deep, steady throb. It’s not better. Just… duller. It is manageable if I breathe shallow.Outside the thin wall, I hear low voices. Naomi’s cadence, sharp even when she’s whispering. Bella’s softer reply. Cassian’s rumble. The occasional creak of floorboards as someone shifts their weight.The little fortress, still at the door.I test my fingers. Toes. Edges of movement.Everything hurts.Everything works.Slowly, I push myself upright, back braced against the headboard. The room tilts once, then rights itself.A glass of water sits on the bedside table, beads of condensation dried to a faint ring. Beside it, someone’s left a folded cloth, a sprig of some

RonanThe gate closes behind them with a sound I feel in my bones.It’s not loud. Just wood against stone, iron settling into place. It was a familiar noise I’ve heard a thousand times.It’s never cut this deep.For a while, I stand in front of it like an idiot.The guards shift uneasily at their posts. One clears his throat, then thinks better of it. The bond is a faint, aching line now, stretched beyond the trees, humming with absence.“Alpha?” One of the guards ventures at last.I blink, realizing I haven’t moved in too long.“Back to your rotations,” I say. “No one follows them unless Cassian says so.”“Yes, Alpha.”I turn back toward the heart of the compound.A shout cuts across the yard.Two warriors—young, hot‑blooded—slam into each other in the training ring. It's not sparring. Fighting.Too hard.Too reckless.Blood hits the dirt.“Enough,” I say.They don’t stop.For a second—I don’t move.The command sits in my throat… and dies there.Cassian steps in, shoving one back, L