Semua Bab Alpha Went Crazy After He Killed Elf Mate: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The thing I'd been holding for five years — I never got to say it.A year ago, Damien's sister Seraphine vanished after a secret meeting. That meeting had been organized jointly by my parents and his — the Elf and wolven royal lines had been quietly building a project for years: combine sacred Elf blood with the Alpha blood of the Thorne line, brew a permanent antidote, end the war between the two races for good. Sera was the heart of the plan. Her job was to infiltrate the pack that had cursed the Thornes three hundred years ago — Blackmoor pack. If the antidote succeeded, Blackmoor would lose three centuries of leverage. So they had to make sure it failed.The day Sera vanished, she left me with one sentence:"Elara, no matter how Damien asks, you cannot tell him I'm alive — not until the traitor exposes himself. Not one word. Swear it on the Moon Goddess."I swore it. Once a blood oath is sworn, breaking it turns the tongue to ash.But Damien didn't know any of this. All he knew

The first month after the Rejection, Ophelia was pregnant. Every wolf in the pack said it was a blessing from the Moon Goddess.By the third week of her pregnancy, she started showing symptoms — a poison only the oldest Alpha bloodlines carried. Slow. The fetus would not survive. There was one antidote: Elf tears.Every three days, the guards dragged me out of the dungeon and into Ophelia's bedroom. I knelt at the side of her bed. An old maid gripped my jaw and tilted my face under a small crystal vial. Elf tears are precious. So they used the cold-iron whip.The whip came down on my back, across the stump where my light-wing had been broken. The wound never healed — the iron was still burning inside it. Every lash earned them a single tear that fell into the vial. Ten drops were enough for one dose. Thirty lashes left my back swimming in blood.The maid carried the vial to Ophelia's lips. Half-conscious, Ophelia would still part her mouth and swallow each drop. Then she would open her

On the way back to the dungeon, the guards dragged me past the kitchens.A new maid was coming the other way carrying an iron pail. Inside it was the runoff from the slaughter shed in the back yard — blackened organ meat, clotted blood, a few flies turning lazy circles on the surface. She set the pail down in front of me."The Luna says we can't let you starve to death." She smiled. "This is your meal today. Eat. Lick the bottom clean. We'll be checking."I looked at the pail. My stomach climbed up my throat.The maid crouched, tilted her head at me, fished out a blackened lump with her fingers. "Not eating? Then I'll go tell the Alpha. I'll say the elf doesn't appreciate his hospitality." She made as if to stand up.I reached out and caught the hem of her skirt.I opened my mouth. She pushed the lump in — wet, rancid, cold, with the faint sweet-iron note that only Elf blood has.She added, "The Luna killed three elves this morning. She had the kitchen prepare your 'meal' herself. They

Four cold-iron cages were carried into the room. Their bases dragged across the floor with a high, scraping sound that crawled up the back of the neck. Each cage held a person.In the last one was Lyra. My thirteen-year-old sister. She should have been in the deepest part of the Elf Forest — the safest place we had.Lyra saw me. She crawled to the bars. "Sister." Her voice was raw. Her eyes were threaded with red. Her body was a map of wounds. There was a cold-iron collar burn at her throat — the same one I had at mine. She had been wearing it for more than a day.Ophelia crouched beside the cage and gave a small smile. "Elf light-wings don't grow in fully until twelve. Your sister just had her thirteenth birthday, didn't she?"I lunged forward and caught the hem of Ophelia's gown."Ophelia, anything you want — my eyes, my voice, my blood, the rest of my life. Take it. Let her go. She is a child."Ophelia looked down at me. "I've used everything you have, this year. I want something ne

At that exact moment — upstairs, Damien was holding his son.He looked down at the child, and then he froze. He raised one hand and pressed it to his own chest — not the child's. His own.He felt it. The thread he had thought was severed was burning, drawing back inward. He shoved the child into the Beta's arms, turned, and crashed down the stairs.He punched the cage door open and threw himself in front of me. His face was bloodless. His eyes were threaded with red. He reached for me — his hand passed through my body.Then I saw it in his eyes — the spark of hope. He still thought I could be saved. He still thought there was time. He thought he had only to come down here and call my name once, Elara, and I would do what I had always done — cry, and forgive him.I looked at him. I said nothing. Let him wait. Let him stand there and feel it — what it is like to want someone to save you and know they aren't coming. That was every day, every night, of my year.He dropped to his knees. The