All Chapters of The Maid Who Stole My Alpha: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

(Daciana POV)The moonlight above Blackfang turned black, and Rudina’s crown cracked in my hands like the sky had chosen violence.Every child in the blood circle screamed as the moon’s voice faded from their mouths, leaving their small bodies shaking beneath the altar’s chains.Bardolph’s spirit wolf stood before me, silver-gray fur raised, golden eyes fixed on the darkness swallowing the moon above the broken hall.Otsana clutched my arm with one hand, her covered gold mark burning bright enough to smoke through the cloth around her wrist.Conri lifted his sword toward the altar, though no blade could cut a threat spoken by the moon itself.Bardolph remained near Niall, one hand on the child’s shoulder, but his eyes were on the crown splitting between my palms.The crown did not fall apart.That frightened me more.It stayed whole while cracking, as if it wanted me to see every wound before choosing which wound deserved survival.The children’s chains loosened slightly when I reject

(Otsana POV)Maelor’s shadow called me his mercy bride, and the gold mark on my wrist answered before my soul could refuse him.Pain burned up my arm in golden branches, beautiful enough to frighten me because Blood Feather always made chains look sacred first.I dropped to one knee, still clutching the cracked crown, while the shadow child smiled from the throne beneath the broken altar floor.He wore Maelor’s unborn face, but his eyes belonged to something older than any child, mother, crown, or wolf.Daciana rushed toward me, but Bardolph’s spirit wolf blocked her path before the gold smoke could reach her crownlit body.“Otsana,” she called, and my name in her voice became the only human thing strong enough to keep me from screaming again.“I am here,” I forced out, though every word scraped through a throat full of golden smoke and shadowed command.The shadow child tilted his small dark head, watching me with cruel wonder like a prince admiring the first jewel in his future cour

(Daciana POV)Finn’s scream vanished beneath the bloodstone, and the empty place among the chained children felt louder than every cry still shaking the chamber.Niall stared at that empty place with horror widening his brown eyes, as if his first brave refusal had become murder before his heart understood mercy.The cracked Alpha ring smoked around his finger, no longer commanding him fully, but still punishing him for choosing his own voice.“I made him disappear,” Niall whispered, and the words broke through me because Blood Feather had already taught a child to blame himself.I crossed the edge of the red circle before fear could make wisdom out of hesitation, but Bardolph’s spirit wolf slammed against my side.The wolf did not bite me, hurt me, or command me, yet its silver body blocked me from stepping where my blood would wake the altar.Conri caught my other arm with careful strength, his eyes fixed on the floor where Finn had vanished into the blood stone.“You cannot save hi

(Daciana POV)The little girl’s word struck the nursery harder than any scream, because every stolen child, trapped wolf, and breathing root went silent.Bardolph’s spirit wolf stood before her cradle with his silver-gray head lowered, trembling as if the name had wounded and healed him simultaneously.Father.The word did not belong to blood the way Niall’s word had belonged to a hidden Blackfang inheritance.This word belonged to memory.It belonged to a wolf, recognizing something the man above us had never known, or something Adolphus had stolen before knowing it could become language.Conri stepped closer, sword lowered but ready, his eyes moving from the girl to the spirit wolf with a king’s careful suspicion.“She cannot mean Bardolph,” he said softly, though even he sounded uncertain beneath the nursery’s terrible quiet.The white-haired girl beside me shook her head, her pale eyes fixed on the awakened child like she feared a door had opened too early.“She does not mean the

(Daciana POV)The memory held us inside the moonlit courtyard, where young Bardolph lay half-conscious with both arms wrapped around the crying baby.Adolphus stood above him with one hand stained by torn wolf light, smiling like a man who had discovered how easily courage could be wounded.The baby beneath the servant cloth looked up with golden eyes, her tiny mark pulsing under her collarbone like Rudina’s mercy trying to survive darkness.I stared at her face, searching for myself because every stolen part of my life had taught me to expect pain wearing my name.But the baby’s eyes were not mine.They were Otsana’s.That truth moved through me slowly, not because I doubted it, but because it rearranged too many wounds at once.Bardolph had not unknowingly protected me on that buried night.He had protected my sister.He had protected the child Adolphus later raised to hate Rudina, hate me, and mistake cruelty for family.The revelation did not soften what Bardolph had done to me as