Now, The Alpha Wants Me Back のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

AUTHOR’S POV"He does not carry Northern blood! He is a southern bastard!"“What the hell.” Standing near the glass doors of the bedchamber, Larissa held her newborn son tight against her chest. She bounced him gently, trying to soothe his fussy whimpers.Outside, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. The shadow plague continued to ravage the eastern borders. Fear made the pack paranoid. Some of the older families had learned about Ryan’s High Council petition. Now, the streets were filled with terrified wolves claiming Theron was an illegitimate heir, a foreign curse sent to destroy their empire. They did not want a southern boy sitting on the Northern throne.Godric stood on the balcony, glaring down at the rioters. He wore dark leather armor, his broad shoulders tense with suppressed rage."Disperse!" Silas bellowed from the courtyard wall, drawing his silver broadsword. Vanguard guards formed a solid shield wall across the lower steps. "Go back to your homes! Anyone crossing th

JULIET"We caught five of them at the eastern supply wall, Alpha."The rough, gravelly voice of Gamma Silas echoed down the cold stone corridor. Pressing my spine against the damp wall of the guest wing, I stopped breathing. My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird."They carried canvas bags filled with black powder and crushed silver glass," Silas continued, his boots grinding against the floorboards. "Explosives. They planned to rig the royal carriages before we departed for the Equinox.""Where are they now?" my father’s voice rumbled. It carried a low, vibrating hum that vibrated right through the thick stone walls. It was the sound he made right before he slaughtered someone."Chained in the lower courtyard," Silas answered.Footsteps moved away, heading toward the heavy iron doors that led outside.I did not follow them. Sliding down the rough wall, my knees gave out. I hit the floor hard, staring blankly at the flickering torchlight across the hall. Panic, sharp and

AUTHOR’S POV.“I will watch him burn.”Juliet whispered the words into the dark, empty bedroom. Rain lashed against the tall glass windows of the Blood Moon packhouse, mirroring the violent storm raging inside her mind. Lying flat on her back, she stared up at the shadowed canopy of her bed. The thick silk sheets offered no warmth. Sleep refused to come.Her mind spun in endless, toxic circles, always tracing back to the frozen North.She thought about her father. Godric never cared about her. Growing up in the massive stone keep, she learned her place very early on. She was not a cherished princess. She was born to a nameless woman in the western harem, a brief, meaningless distraction for a warlord who valued only military strength. When her mother died of a winter fever, Godric did not attend the funeral. He simply moved Juliet into the royal wing and handed her over to strict tutors. He viewed her as a disposable asset. A chess piece waiting to be traded for a border alliance or a

AUTHOR’S POV“His muscle density is the problem.”Draven dropped a thick slab of ballistic gel onto the wooden table. The heavy material landed with a dull, wet smack. Embedded halfway into the clear gel was one of the hollow glass arrowheads from the mechanical crossbow.“What am I looking at?” Ryan asked, crossing his arms over his dark suit. He glared at the mercenary leader, annoyance bleeding into his tone.“You are looking at a failed assassination,” Draven stated bluntly. He tapped a scarred finger against the table. “I spent all night running penetration tests. We are firing from a second-floor balcony. The downward trajectory creates an angle. Godric is not a normal wolf. His chest muscles are thicker than steel plating. If he tenses up right before the bolt hits, the glass will shatter against his outer muscle tissue.”A heavy, frustrating silence filled the underground vault.It was the next day. Rain continued to hammer the roof of the Blood Moon packhouse, but deep in the

AUTHOR’S POV.“Keep your eyes on the southern delegation.”Godric muttered the command to his Gamma without moving his lips. He stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at the massive entrance of the inner keep. The bitter winter wind whipped through the open iron gates, carrying the scent of pine and roasted meat.Larissa stood right beside him, wearing a crown of woven silver. “They look nervous,” she noted quietly.“They should be,” Godric replied, offering a stiff nod to a passing merchant.Visiting Alphas poured into the fortress courtyard. Carriages bearing flags from the Northern Ridges, the Eastern Steppes, and neutral merchant guilds rolled over the cobblestones. Today marked the official ascension ceremony. Before the royal convoy departed for the Capital's Equinox Gala next week, Godric needed his own territory to witness his mate taking the throne.He offered firm handshakes. He accepted formal bows. He played the political game with practiced, cold efficiency