All Chapters of The Alpha Who Rejected Me: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ELENA’S POV The ruined courtyard of the High Council Citadel was older than the kingdoms themselves. It sat exposed to the elements, a hollow ring of shattered obsidian pillars wrapped in frozen ivy. The ground was paved with fractured black stone, and overhead, the silver moonlight cut through the mountain fog like a series of pale blades. It was a beautiful, dead place. It suited me perfectly. I stood in the center of the ruins, my long burgundy silk gown pooling around my leather boots. The fur cloak Nikolai had given me hung loosely from my shoulders, keeping the biting mountain wind from my skin. Every few seconds, the silver signet ring on my right hand would pulse, sending a steady, icy current of Eclipse magic through my veins. It kept the exhaustion at bay. It kept the memories from turning into pain. The strange thing about revenge was that it demanded silence. Every memory buried beneath the frost remained perfectly preserved, but I could no longer feel their warmth

ELENA’S POV The solid blade of obsidian shadow did not just cut the golden thread—it obliterated it. The sound of the magical rupture was like a clap of thunder trapped within the narrow stone walls of the ruined courtyard. The blinding golden light that had briefly illuminated the dead obsidian pillars shattered into a million tiny, harmless sparks, dissolving into the freezing mountain fog like falling ash. The spiritual backlash was immediate, violent, and devastating. "AGH!" Kaelen let out a strangled scream that sounded as if his lungs were being torn directly from his chest. The invisible force of the snapping bond slammed into his torso like a physical battering ram, lifting his heavy frame off the ground and throwing him backward. He crashed violently against the base of a shattered pillar, his head snapping back against the stone with a dull thud. He collapsed onto his side, his body curling into a tight, trembling ball of agony. His chest heaved erratically as his

ELENA’S POV The Grand Ballroom of the High Council Citadel was filled with golden chandeliers, white marble, and fake smiles. Hundreds of the world’s most powerful Alphas and Lunas filled the tables for the closing ceremony. They drank expensive wines and laughed loudly, their conversation a mask to hide the bubbling tension from the previous night. At the highest tier of the room sat the royal chairs of the Western Territory. Kaelen Vance’s seat was conspicuously empty, guarded only by his tense, sweating Beta. Beside the empty throne sat Lady Tanya. Her golden crown sat perfectly straight tonight, her face tight with an expectant smirk that she couldn't quite hide behind her crystal glass. She wasn't looking at the High Council elders. Her vicious gaze was locked entirely onto the Northern Coalition table. I sat beside Nikolai at the head of our long obsidian table. I wore a formal silk gown the exact color of oxidized burgundy—the shade of dried blood. The dress was cut low at

TANYA'S POV The royal quarters of the Western Territory were dead silent, save for my muffled pacing. The high council guards had allowed me and Kaelen to remain confined to my chambers under strict house arrest until the morning tribunal, rather than dragging us immediately to the lower dungeons. It was a small diplomatic courtesy extended only because Kaelen was still technically the crowned King. But looking at him now, he was nothing but a broken monument to a dead empire. Kaelen sat on the edge of the four-poster velvet bed. His head was buried in his hands, his broad shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the ceiling were actively crushing his spine. His eyes were wide, glassy, and fixed on the floor. The feral frenzy that had consumed him in the moonlit courtyard had faded, leaving behind a catatonic exhaustion. Every few seconds, his chest would heave with a ragged sigh as the severed, bleeding fragments of his old mating bond throbbed inside his soul. "We are ru

ELENA’S POV My fingers trembled slightly against the yellowed parchment, though the void inside my chest remained as still and unforgiving as ice. I read the frantic cursive, my gaze piercing through the ink of a paranoid tyrant. Entry 412: The Eastern scouts confirmed the last royal female escaped the palace fire. She has fled west toward my borders, carrying the newborn heir. If the High Council discovers the child lives, my claim to the Western crown will be voided. Entry 415: The female has been captured. She refused to give up the location of the royal signet ring. I cannot execute her publicly without raising suspicion among the northern packs. I have ordered the doctors to prepare the silver-ash solution. We will feed it to the child daily to rot her inner wolf from infancy. An omega orphan who cannot shift is no threat to my line. Entry 420: The mother attempted to steal the child back from the nursery tonight. I had no choice. I handled the matter personally in the Dead Wo