All Chapters of Reborn to the Alpha’s Obsession: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

​Thalia’s POV​The skirmish was vicious. Worse than I’d ever anticipated.​Ever since that morning, Lysander had insisted on taking me to the front lines—not as a fighter, but as a tactical asset. He didn't fully trust me, but he’d realized my mind was the weapon he needed.​We were back at the ridge, deep in the thicket, hunting the remains of the Crescent resistance.​"Stay within reach of Brandon," Lysander commanded, his voice as sharp as a jagged blade. He grabbed my shoulder, his silver eyes flashing with a possessive, territorial intensity. "If you so much as lose a hair, Little Mouse, I will burn this entire forest to ash."​I shrugged him off, though my heart performed a treacherous somersault. "I’m not your property to guard, Lysander."​"Not yet," he retorted with a thin, dangerous smirk. "But stay behind me."​We vanished into the forest. Then, the world erupted. Crescent soldiers burst from the tree line, a coordinated ambush.​"Thalia, get back!" Brandon screamed, parryi

Lysander’s POV ​I could smell her. That intoxicating mix of wildflowers and ancient, forbidden blood. ​Thalia was standing there, fighting, putting up walls that were already crumbling under the weight of her own desire. I could feel it through the palm of my hand pressed against her waist. She was trembling. She was wet. She wanted me every bit as much as I’d wanted her since the day I dragged her into my life. ​Aero was screaming in my chest. Mark her. Claim her. Ensure she never leaves. She is ours. ​"Answer me," I growled, my voice rough, strained by the hunger clawing at my throat. ​"I... I belong to myself," she whispered, though her eyes were already glazing over. A sweet, beautiful lie. I loved the way it tasted on her tongue. ​I chuckled low in my throat. "Wrong." ​I silenced her with a kiss. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't a request. It was a conquest. She arched her neck, trying to twist away, but her fingers were already tangled in my hair, pulling me harder again

Lysander’s POV​I couldn't let this drag on.​My restraint had snapped. When Elder Bram nudged the tip of his silver staff closer to Thalia’s throat—an unforgivable trespass—my vision turned a violent shade of red.​"Enough."​It wasn't a shout. It was the voice of a King. The kind of sound that forced every wolf in the room to bow their head on pure instinct.​Bram turned to me, his eyes narrowing. "King, you cannot interfere with—"​"I am not debating!"​I moved.​In a blur, I was in front of Bram. My speed was far beyond human—beyond even the elders' ability to track. I grabbed the silver staff he was holding with my bare hand.​CRACK.​The silver—forged with protective enchantments—shattered like a dry branch under my grip. Shards of metal showered onto the marble floor with a sharp, piercing sound.​Bram gasped, his face draining of all color.​One of the council guards behind him panicked, lunging forward with a silver blade.​That was his final mistake.​I didn't even turn to f

Lysander’s POV​I didn't care about the decorum of my study. I hauled her against the mahogany desk, scattering stacks of reports and parchment onto the floor in a flurry of white. Thalia gasped, her hands scrambling for a purchase, but I pinned her wrists firmly against the cool, polished wood.​"You think you can play games with your life in my house, mouse?" I growled. Aero was howling inside me, a primal demand to punish this woman for the utter recklessness she displayed regarding her own existence.​"It was... it was my choice!" Thalia defied me, her chest heaving. Her eyes were defiant, yet shimmering with a betrayal of her own desire.​"Choice?" I pressed closer, our noses brushing. "You are mine, Thalia. Your life is not yours to wager. If you want to play games, you have to pay the price."​I tore the collar of her dress, the silk giving way under my fingers. She inhaled sharply, trying to turn her head, but I caught her chin, forcing her to meet my dark, dilated eyes.​"Loo

​Vance’s POV​The silence in the Crescent Packhouse was heavy, suffocating, and tasted like ash. My hands were trembling, but not from the wound in my shoulder. It was the white-hot rage burning in my veins that made my muscles twitch.​I stared at the wall-sized map of my territory, my eyes fixed on the red ‘X’ I’d mentally marked over the Silver Mines. Hours ago, that place had been the beating heart of my empire—my leverage, my wealth, my absolute security. Now? It was a graveyard of rubble and broken dreams.​I gripped the edge of my mahogany desk until the wood groaned under my palms. Lysander. The bastard had finally done it. He hadn't just attacked; he had dismantled me. I had been there—I had felt the tremors of the earth when the support pillars collapsed, felt the heat of the fire licking at my boots. I’d barely made it out alive, my shoulder sliced open by flying shrapnel, barely stumbling back to the packhouse before I passed out from the blood loss.​And now, I was back.