Kill Me Alpha, Before I Do (Beast Of Flames Book 1) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

Rowan povThe estate was quiet now. The warriors were still clearing the rubble from the broken gatehouse, their heavy boots dragging across the gravel, but down here in the subterranean guts of the keep, the air felt isolated, heavy with a different kind of ending. I walked down the concrete ramp, my boots making low, rhythmic echoes against the floorboards. My right arm was tightly wrapped in a clean white medical wrap where my mother’s silver needle-point dagger had burned through my flesh, the physical ache dull and manageable compared to the deep, silent weight sitting in my chest.I stopped at the threshold of the primary vehicle bay, my eyes tracking the lone silhouette working under the harsh glare of a single overhead halogen strip.Zaric was standing by the open tailgate of an old, mud-splattered transport truck. He had completely discarded his formal vanguard armor and his leather prince’s tunic, now dressed in a simple, rugged canvas mechanic's jacket and heavy riding

RomyThe sudden absence of gunfire felt like a physical weight pressing down on my eardrums.For thirteen years, my mind had been tuned to the high-frequency rattle of conflict—the sharp click of a safety turning off, the heavy slide of a bolt, the desperate, wet breathing of a target cornered in the dark.But as I opened my eyes in the deep, stone-carved sanctuary of the main keep, the absolute silence of the mountain morning was completely disorienting. The bright dawn light cut through the high, arched windows of the Alpha suite, painting the heavy fur blankets and the dark oak floorboards in long, pale streaks of gold.I lay perfectly still under the heavy weight of the sheets, my heart pounding a fast, defensive rhythm against my ribs simply because there was nothing to fight. My body was an atlas of the previous night's siege. My splinted left arm was resting on a soft velvet pillow, the deep bone-ache now down to a quiet, manageable throb thanks to the medic's herbal wraps.

Rowan PovShe didn't lean into my chest, nor did she let out the soft, vulnerable sigh she had shared with me at dawn. Instead, her body turned into a column of hard, unyielding steel.She stepped back, breaking my grip on her waist with a quick, practiced twist of her hips, her boots sliding back two inches against the floorboards as she looked up at me with a cold, piercing glare that belonged to the elite Viper assassin who had survived thirteen years of hell. "Say that again," she said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin register that carried no warmth whatsoever. "It's for your protection, Romy," I insisted, taking a step forward, my tensed chest expanding as my beast bristled at her sudden resistance. "Silas's blood is still wet in the conservatory. Caleb's Mercer defectors could have left unexploded charges near the drainage tracks. The territory is not fully stabilized, and I will not risk you or the mark on your neck standing out in the open." "Risk me?" Romy let o

Romy povThe air in the eastern training yard was thick with the sharp smell of cold iron, pine sap, and damp mud. The morning mist was still clinging to the timber fence posts, but the vanguard recruits were already two hours into their physical drills. The rhythmic thud of wooden practice broadswords striking leather padded dummies echoed off the high stone terrace where I stood. I wrapped my arms loosely over my chest, my right hand resting near the hilt of my concealed ceramic blade, my eyes tracking the footwork of the forward squad. My left arm barely throbbed anymore, yet my mind remained locked in its relentless rhythm.Then, without warning, the entire yard seemed to tilt violently on its axis.A sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea hit the back of my throat like a physical blow. It wasn't the slow, manageable discomfort of fatigue or raw exhaustion; it was a sudden, violent surge that made my vision blur into a dizzying streak of dark slate and pale mud. At the exact same

Romy povThe Alpha suite was quiet except for Rowan’s slow, steady breathing. He lay beside me on the massive bed, his dark hair mussed against the white linen pillows, one calloused hand resting over my stomach even in sleep.The golden mark on my collarbone gave off a faint hum, warm against my skin. Since the pregnancy began, its rhythm had changed, as though it were responding to the life growing inside me. The mark seemed to calm him. Whenever its warmth spread through my skin, Rowan slept more deeply, his body finally surrendering to a rest his beast rarely allowed him.I waited until the grandfather clock in the corridor struck two before carefully slipping out from under his arm.I didn't wear my heavy combat boots; instead, I pulled on soft, dark leather slippers and a thick, high-collared wool sweater that concealed the glowing mark on my neck. My injured left arm rested in a black cloth sling, while my right hand went to the small ceramic blade at my hip.I paused at the ed