Semua Bab THE LAST BREEDER, CLAIMED BY FOUR: Bab 111 - Bab 120

EDALWe cleared a small space in the main research bay, dragging two wooden lab chairs away from a shattered glass desk so Dr. Helena could sit down.Tarek handed her a metal cup filled with warm water from his canteen. Her pale, thin fingers wrapped around the tin, her knuckles white as she took short, precise sips. The color was slowly coming back to her lips, but the wild panic in her eyes had completely vanished.In its place was something much harder. Her blue eyes were sharp, calculating, and cold as she looked at each of us in turn."Fifteen years," Helena said. Her voice was no longer a crackling whisper. It was smooth, dry, and entirely devoid of panic. She set the tin cup down on the edge of a steel counter with a small, metallic click. "Fifteen years of total collapse, and the best this mountain can produce as a rescue team is two soldiers, a doctor, a scavenger girl, and a hybrid boy."Rylan leaned against the doorframe, his heavy arms crossed over his chest. His bandaged

EDALThe journey back down the western ridge took three full days. The mountain trails were narrow, slick with gray shale and packed ice, forcing us to lead the mules by their headstalls at a crawl. Dr. Helena walked in the center of our formation, surrounded by Rylan’s massive frame in the front and Ezra’s sharp ears tracking the perimeter from behind. She did not complain about the freezing wind or the rough terrain, but her eyes never stopped moving, cataloging every guard post and fallback line we passed on our approach.When the rusted iron gates of Haven finally groaned open, the settlement was dead silent.Word had spread ahead of us. A crowd of baseline laborers and off-duty perimeter guards had gathered along the lower concrete tier, their faces gaunt, watching the heavy leather crates strapped to the mules. They knew what those boxes contained. But their eyes quickly shifted to the woman walking among us—her silver thermal suit clean, her skin pale, and her posture entirely

TAREKThe door to the inner command quarters wasn't latched. Just a crack of yellow light spilling into the dark corridor. I had come to check Rylan's knuckles, the metal tray of salves heavy in my hands. But the moment I reached the threshold, the words I meant to say died in my throat.The room was thick with the scent of them—woodsmoke, old leather, and the heavy, suffocating musk of three Alphas completely lost to their basest instincts. The air itself was wet, hot, almost impossible to breathe.Korr sat on the edge of the low wooden platform bed, his coat discarded, his chest bare. Rylan was between his thighs, his scarred hands buried in Korr's graying hair. They were kissing—a slow, brutal rhythm that had none of the discipline they carried outside these walls. Korr's hands gripped Rylan's bare waist, thumbs digging into the thick muscle above his hip, pulling him closer until there was no air between them.And then Ezra moved from the dark corner near the hearth.His hybrid ea

EDALThe mountain had quieted down for the night, but the quiet in Haven was never truly silent. The heavy wooden beams of the new perimeter housing groaned as the night air cooled, and off in the distance, the low hum of the geothermal pumps vibrated through the stone under my boots.For the past three months, Dr. Helena had played her part perfectly.She had organized the secondary seed beds, trained four baseline workers to test water acidity, and even helped Tarek process a batch of synthetic penicillin using the old-world lab equipment. To the rest of the town, she was indispensable. The farmers tipped their hats to her when she walked through the central square. Brody’s militia recruits cleared a path for her in the mess hall. Even Korr had eased the guard rotations around her personal living quarters.She had earned their trust. Every bit of it.But trust in a ruined world was a luxury I couldn't afford.It was two hours past midnight when I left the upper command office. I was

EDAL The negotiation table in the lower solar was made of heavy, unpolished oak, but Nikolai sat across from me as if it were a throne carved just for him.He was Gregor’s eldest—twenty-four, built like a young oak, with bright grey eyes that held the reckless, golden confidence of a hunter who had never lost a trail. Nikolai had his father’s sharp jawline, but none of Gregor’s weary, weathered paranoia. When he moved, his shoulders shifted with an easy, fluid grace under his dark leather riding tunic, and he hadn't taken his eyes off me since his retinue rode through Haven’s gates two hours ago."The trade route along the northern pass is dangerous, Edal," Nikolai said, his voice dropping into a low, smooth baritone that rolled across the quiet room like warm syrup. He leaned forward, resting his thick forearms against the table, his fingers casually tapping near the map I had laid out. "My father thinks ten outriders are enough to secure the grain wagons. But if *you* were riding w