All Chapters of REBIRTH: THIS TIME ILL MAKE YOU BEG, ALPHA : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Elara’s POVThe southern royal highway blurred into a chaotic smear of green and brown beneath our horses’ hooves.The wind whipped violently past my ears, tearing through my unpinned hair like a wild storm, but my hands remained steady over the reins. Flying down the trail beside me was Wren on a swift bay mare, while Kaelen rode a ink-black warhorse that looked like it had been bred solely to trample execution lines.Through the wire behind my left ear, Kaelen’s territorial system was broadcasting a hyper-vigilant static so intense it made my teeth ache. Every few seconds, he deliberately adjusted his horse’s speed, keeping his mount positioned half a length ahead of mine. He kept scanning the dense pine treeline with razor-focused eyes, ready to throw himself into the path of any stray arrow or surprise ambush meant for my flank.It was utterly annoying. He was acting like I was a fragile crystal sculpture instead of the woman currently carrying two freshly forged daggers strapped

Elara’s POVThe tavern’s upstairs quarters were small, drafty, and smelled strongly of aged pine and damp wool.Because the entire lower floor was packed with recovering villagers and vanguard enforcers, there was exactly one private bedroom left for the royal party. Kaelen had immediately pulled his Alpha rank, shutting down any argument from Wren before taking full control of the room's arrangement. He stubbornly insisted that I take the soft, wide feather bed near the hearth while he dragged a narrow, ridiculously short wooden bench right in front of the locked door."I'm sleeping right here," Kaelen had declared flatly, trying to sound like a stoic, noble guardian who was selflessly keeping watch over my safety.The heroic facade lasted about four minutes.What the Alpha King hadn't factored into his grand plan was Maverick. The giant, fluffy Caucasian Shepherd pup had somehow managed to sneak into Wren’s rear saddlebags before we left the capital, and he was currently operating a

Elara’s POVIf I had known that executing traitors would require sitting through four solid hours of formal heraldry announcements, I might have just let Maverick chew up the High Court charters three days ago.Sitting at the head bench in a silver-trimmed charcoal coat, I rested my chin casually against my palm while the court herald droned on about land surveys. Beside the royal throne, Kaelen stood in his full black dress uniform, looking like an iron statue, but through the locked wire behind my ear, his wolf was practically thrashing around in bored frustration.I didn't waste another second. I picked up the brass gavel and slammed it flat against the wooden block, shattering the herald's monotonous monologue into a dead silence."That's enough," I said, my voice cutting through the grand chamber like a razor.The Royal Quartermaster, Lord Vane, was standing in the center of the floor, his fat hands bound in iron shackles, his face blotchy and pale. He opened his mouth, preparing

Elara’s POVAuditing royal financial ledgers is normally a tedious nightmare, but when you realize you can use basic pack law to terrorize the Head Steward over silk curtains, it suddenly becomes the highlight of my week.I dragged Rhea and Wren through the gilded arches of the main reception hall, my silver-trimmed charcoal coat brushing against the as the Head Steward shuffled beside us, sweating through his fine wool tunic. I held a thick parchment register in one hand, pointing a finger directly at an obscene entry under the court's decorative budget."Five hundred pieces, Steward," I said flatly, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Explain to me why the High Court approved five hundred pieces for imported gold leafing on the Alpha King's private reception chairs.""My Lady, the traditional protocol for the solstice reception dictates—" the Steward squeaked, his hands trembling as he wrung his sleeves."Traditional protocol is a polite word for embezzlement," I interrupted

Elara’s POVWatching an arrogant Beta scramble over his own expensive boots like a startled sewer rat is genuinely one of the few perks of running a high-altitude judicial tribunal.Beta Varis didn't even bother picking up the torn pieces of his formal petition from the floor. He practically sprinted down the central aisle of the war council hall, his face a blotchy, bloodless mess, throwing open the doors himself and fleeing into the corridor as if the Old Moon line were about to set his clone fire. Before the iron latches could even click shut behind him, he blurted out a stammering promise that Lord Morren would have a formal, written letter of apology delivered to the High Court before nightfall.The silence that settled over the council chamber was suffocating.Fifty high lords, military generals, and regional commanders stood paralyzed around the war table, staring at me with a terrifying mixture of awe and panic. They weren't looking at an unbonded eighteen-year-old girl anymor