All Chapters of Hidden Identity: My Demi God, the Alpha King: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elara’s POVThe rage boiling inside me kept increasing with every heartbeat, a fierce storm that refused to be contained any longer. I had been pushed to the edge enough times already, forced to swallow betrayals and hidden truths until the weight became unbearable, and I would not continue that way. The moment Lucian’s body hit the ground, lifeless after the sword pierced his heart, a fresh wave of attackers emerged from the surrounding woods, their forms shifting into wolves that charged forward with snarls and snapping jaws. The fight reignited instantly, the air thick with the sounds of battle once more as our warriors met them head-on without hesitation. I threw myself back into the fray, my body moving on pure instinct driven by the anger that had finally broken free, every strike landing with the full force of the pain and deception I had endured.Kael faced the warlock directly, the two of them locked in a clash that crackled with raw power. The warlock hurled dark energy and

Elara’s POVI could not believe I had reconnected with my real parents after all the lies and deceit I had been forced to face, the weight of years spent believing one version of my life now crumbling away to reveal the truth that had always waited beneath. The battlefield still carried the scent of blood and scorched earth, yet in the midst of it all Alpha Dave gave the order with calm authority, his voice cutting through the lingering tension. “Carry the wounded warriors. Let’s head back to the pack.”I knew I should be calling him dad, the word sitting on the tip of my tongue like something both natural and foreign, but it still felt awkward, as though my mouth had not yet learned how to shape it after so long. The woman beside me looked so much like me that I could not even pretend she was not my mother, her features mirroring mine with a maturity that spoke of time and quiet strength. I still could not believe I came from a true breed of Alpha, the blood running through my veins

Elara’s POV For days now I had gotten close to my mother, the hours slipping away in quiet conversations that wove together the ordinary and the profound, from the careful details of taking care of a child to the many other things that filled the gaps of years we had lost. We sat together in the soft light of her room, the air carrying the faint scent of fresh fabric and the comfort of shared time, while I watched the woman who looked like a living picture of myself. She held up small clothes she had made for me when I was little, her fingers tracing the delicate stitches with a tenderness that spoke of all the love she had kept preserved through the long separation. The tiny garments carried tiny embroidered patterns, soft edges worn from years of careful folding and unfolding, each one a silent witness to the hope she had never let die. “Which do you think will be better for my grandchild?” she asked, showing me two different garments while I sat there smiling, the simple question

Elara’s POVI was outside with Ava watching the pack members as they continued the setup for the festival, their movements purposeful and filled with the kind of quiet determination that came after surviving an attack on their own soil. Banners of deep crimson and silver hung from newly repaired posts, tables were arranged in wide circles around the central clearing, and the scent of roasting meats and fresh herbs already drifted through the air, mixing with the earthy smell of turned soil where blood had recently stained the ground. The pack worked with focused energy, as if turning the site of conflict into a place of celebration could somehow soften the memory of what had happened here. Ava stood beside me, pointing out small details and chattering about how the Moon Festival would feel different this year, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of relief that we had all returned safely. Yet even as I nodded along, my mind kept drifting to the heavier things that lingered ben

Elara’s POVThe tension in the clearing had already thickened into something almost suffocating when Jasmine’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a jagged blade. “You tyrant,” she spat, her weakened voice still carrying raw hatred that made several pack members shift uncomfortably in their seats. “I knew it. You killed my brother. Dad, Rhode is dead. I saw his clothes in the secret dungeon with this.” She lifted her bound hands as much as the chains allowed, revealing a silver bracelet that caught the torchlight with a cold gleam. Elder Marcellus recognized it instantly. His face crumpled with visible anguish, the color draining from his features as he stared at the piece of jewelry that confirmed his son’s fate. The entire pack seemed to hold its breath, the festive atmosphere from moments earlier now shattered beyond repair.I sat frozen in my seat, utterly awed because it had never occurred to me that Rhode was dead, much less that he was Jasmine’s brother. The revelation lan