Semua Bab Sinful Alphas: A Dark Romance Collection: Bab 91 - Bab 100

Lucy’s POVThe obsidian mask was heavy in my hands. Heavy with history. Heavy with his secrets. I felt the pulse of it, warm from his skin, a relic that had consumed centuries of wearers.The huntress was moving. I saw her blade rise. I saw Zenard fighting the challenger, bleeding, bare-faced for the first time in years. The pack was chaos. The scent of fear and blood filled the Great Hall.The mask wanted a face.I lifted it.The leather straps found my skull. The cold steel pressed against my skin. The sensation was instant—a vacuum seal, a sinking into darkness. My name dissolved on my tongue. Lucy. A whisper in a storm.The vision hit me like a wave of ice. A mountain I did not know. A wolf the size of the sky, bleeding into the snow. A god kneeling, weeping, pulling the pelt over their own head. The first mask. The first prison.I gasped. The world snapped back.The huntress froze. Her blade stopped inches from the mask. "You… you cannot wear it. You are an Omega."I laughed. The

Lucy’s POVThe rift slammed shut behind me, a mouth swallowing the light of the world above.I dropped into a place that had no right to exist. There was no floor, no sky, no horizon. There was only hunger—a vast, sentient absence that pressed against my skin like cold oil, trying to seep into my pores, my lungs, my mind. The void breathed around me, a million whispering voices promising peace if I would just let go, just dissolve, just become nothing.I hit a surface that rippled like water under flesh. The armory keys burned in my clenched fist. In this realm, the keys were not metal. They were my self. My name. My fury. The brutal love that had made me abandon my pack and throw myself into the abyss.I am Lucy. I am the Queen of Steel. The Founder of the Unmasked. This darkness does not own me.I spoke it aloud, and the words were a hammer against an anvil. The keys detonated in my hand, not shattering, but unlocking. A door inside my soul swung open. Light erupted from my skin, cr

Lucy’s POVThe forest floor was a frozen graveyard of leaves and shattered bones. The game trail we followed snaked through the undergrowth like a wound, and the shard in my chest hummed with a predator's recognition. Hunt. Kill. Feed. It wasn't my voice—not entirely. It was the Wolf Mother, a ghost of hunger coiled around my heart. But the line between her will and mine was blurring with every step.Zenard stumbled beside me, his breath a ragged mist. The void had hollowed him out. I caught him, my arm around his waist, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "We need shelter. Now."A crack in the hillside appeared between two slabs of granite, black as a gullet. The scent hit me first—acrid, oily, the unmistakable rot of the abyss. Something had nested here. Something the void had left behind to watch.I pushed Zenard behind me. "Wait."The darkness inside the cave shifted. A wolf emerged, too large, its ribs visible through a coat of matted oil and exposed sinew. Its eyes were hollow si

Lucy’s POVThe shard didn't let me rest. It pulsed in my chest like a second heart, driving me forward through the twisted forest. The trees here were wrong—their branches curled inward, their roots clawing at the soil as if trying to escape something beneath. The air tasted of ash and old blood.Zenard walked close enough that our shoulders brushed. I could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He was healing. The void's taint was fading, replaced by the silver fire I had poured into him on the throne room floor. But I could still sense the shadows lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for a crack in his armor.I wouldn't let them find one."Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice low.I nodded. The shard was humming, pulling me toward a specific point in the distance. A nexus of power, thick and cloying, like a wound in the world that had festered for centuries. "The city. It's close."We crested a r

Lucy’s POV The silence that followed the death of the True Mouth was not the silence of defeat. It was the silence of a held breath. The world was waiting to see if we would fall. I didn't fall. My knees were weak, my thighs painted with the evidence of our war, but I stood. Zenard's hands were on my waist, his breath hot against my neck. "Is it done?" he whispered. "It's done." My voice was my own now. The Wolf Mother's power was a steady hum in my chest, no longer a frantic scream. The void crystal was ash. The True Mouth was gone, swallowed by the exact thing it sought to erase: pure, unfiltered life. I looked at the spot where the black sun had hung. The floor was no longer dead stone. It was rich, dark soil. Tiny green shoots pushed through the cracks, delicate and defiant. Life, sprouting from the corpse of oblivion. "We planted a garden," I said, an exhausted laugh es