All Chapters of Reborn to the Alpha’s Obsession: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lysander’s POV ​Thalia had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her breathing settling into a rhythmic, steady flow. I stood before the massive, gilded mirror in the corner of the room, staring at my own reflection. The mark—the curse of the Blood Moon—was becoming angrier, redder, and more expansive. It felt as though a thousand scorching needles were piercing my spine every time the blood moon drew near. ​Why do I do all of this? The question haunted me. Why was I so obsessed that I had to orchestrate her very death? ​It all began eons before she was truly mine. In my first life, when I was nothing but a lonely, brooding Lycan King, I stood on the brink of total defeat in a great war. I lay severely wounded in the middle of a desolate forest, dying, stripped of all hope. That was when she—Thalia—appeared. ​She was no one then, merely a girl from a small village who had wandered off the path. She knew nothing of my status as a King. She only saw a dying man and helped me without a

Lysander’s POVI woke to an empty bed, and the immediate void sent my instincts into a jagged frenzy. ​I tore through the castle corridors, my Lycan senses tracking the faint, lingering scent of her—toward the eastern wing, toward Raven’s alchemy room. As I neared the heavy oak door, I heard Brandon’s voice, strained and frantic, and the words that made my blood run ice-cold. ​"...black witchcraft sect... a life of equal value..." ​I kicked the door off its hinges without knocking. ​Thalia stood in the center of the room, holding a letter with trembling fingers. Her skin was deathly pale, but her jaw was locked tight—the same frozen mask she had worn since the night she uncovered that journal. ​"What is that?" I hissed. ​Thalia looked up, her eyes meeting mine with that familiar, searing hatred—the same hatred that had never truly faded since she learned who I was. But beneath it, this time, was something else. A flicker of terror she was struggling to bury. ​"None of your busi

Lysander’s POV ​"Get back from the window, Thalia," I commanded, my voice biting as I watched those crimson eyes fixate on my wife, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. ​"What is that?" Thalia didn't budge. Her eyes were glued to the gargantuan entity slowly manifesting from the black mist, its body towering three times the height of the largest warrior. ​"I don't know," I admitted, a rare confession of ignorance that tasted like ash. "But whatever it is, it’s not some garden-variety shadow summoned by a common sect." ​Raven sprinted back in, her face drawn, her breath coming in jagged gasps. "Sire, I can feel it from here. It’s an ancient presence. This isn't magic conjured overnight." ​"Explain," I demanded, though a cold dread was already settling in my gut. ​"It means someone has called upon something that should have remained long buried," Raven replied, her voice shaky as her fingers tightened around her blade. "Something even older than your blood contract, Si

Lysander’s POV ​The pain in my back had become an old, familiar friend, but this new wound from The Shackled’s claw felt fundamentally different—cold, creeping like ice that never truly melted. ​"Don't move," Raven warned, her hands busy dressing my back with a pungent, herbal salve. "The wound isn't healing naturally, Sire. Something is suppressing your regeneration." ​"I know," I answered curtly, my eyes never leaving Thalia. She stood in the corner of the medical wing, staring at her own hand as if it no longer belonged to her body. ​"Thalia," I called out. ​She looked up, her cold mask sliding back into place, though I could still see the lingering terror in her eyes. "What?" ​"Let Raven examine your hand, too." ​"I’m fine." ​"You have a curse mark identical to mine, Thalia. That is not 'fine'." My voice was harsher than I intended, and I saw her jaw tighten in response. ​"Don't speak as if you have the right to command me now," she hissed, stepping closer but refusing to

Lysander’s POV ​I had never intended to keep the medallion a secret. I simply hadn't understood its gravity until this very night. ​"Tell me everything," Thalia said. She was still sitting on the floor where I had found her, her eyes no longer looking at me with the usual suspicion. There was something sharper now—a shared dread that bound us together, whether we wanted it or not. ​"The medallion was passed down from my father, and his father before him, back who knows how many generations," I started, sitting beside her. My back pulsed with pain, but it felt trivial compared to the confusion weighing on my soul. "Every Lycan King is told one thing: never seek the origin of that medallion. Never speak of it outside the royal bloodline." ​"And you just obeyed that order?" Thalia asked, that familiar caustic bite returning to her tone. ​"I am the King who traded half his life to turn back time just to have you back, Thalia," I answered flatly. "I am not one to follow rules. But my