บททั้งหมดของ MARKED BY THE ALPHA I CAME TO KILL : บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The footsteps came around the side of the cabin. Nyra remained near the doorway, her body tense as a man stepped into view. He was taller than Soren and broad through the shoulders, with dark hair pulled away from his face and plain, practical clothes that looked more suited to working outdoors than fighting. A bundle of firewood rested against one shoulder. His eyes found Nyra immediately, and he stopped. For several seconds, neither of them spoke before his gaze shifted to Soren. "Who is she?" "Nyra." "I gathered that." Soren took the firewood from him and carried it toward the stack beside the cabin. "She's staying for a few days." The man's expression hardened. "Is she?" Soren glanced back at him. "Don't start." "I haven't said anything." "You don't have to." The man's eyes returned to Nyra, briefly settling on the knife at her belt before moving back to her face. "She's from the Order." It wasn't a question. Nyra's hand moved instinctively toward he

The buckets were heavier than they looked. Nyra carried two while Soren carried one. He'd insisted on it, claiming she needed to build up her strength. She'd told him she'd been carrying her own weight since she was sixteen. He'd laughed and handed her the second bucket anyway. “Your arms are looking less pathetic,” he said. “Charming.” “I'm being supportive.” “You're being annoying.” “That too.” The path to the stream was familiar now. Nyra had walked it dozens of times in the days she'd been staying with them. The trees were starting to feel less like a hiding place and more like a route. The stream was less like a resource and more like a destination. She didn't know when that had happened. They reached the water. Soren knelt and filled his bucket while Nyra did the same. The stream was quiet except for the rush of water over stones. Soren was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “Do you think the Order really rescued Omegas?” Nyra paused. The question caught

The tea was a blend Magda had been saving for months. Alistair Vane appreciated good tea. He also appreciated complaining about it. She'd learned that years ago, the first time he'd sat in her kitchen and informed her that the water was too hot. He'd been right, and she'd never made that mistake again. "The leaves are good," he said, setting down his cup. "But you steeped it a moment too long." Magda smiled. "You're impossible." "I'm precise." "Same thing." He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a dark coat and polished boots, with silver at his temples and a face that remained remarkably unlined despite his years. He looked like a man who had never worked a day in his life. That was precisely what made him dangerous. They had known each other for decades, long enough to share meals, conversations and secrets without either of them needing to explain what remained unspoken. The tea had been a peace offering, a small courtesy before a conversation Magda had been dreading. She

The cabin smelled like bread and woodsmoke. Nyra stood at the fire, feeding it small pieces of kindling while Caelan worked at the stove with the practiced efficiency that came from years of routine. Soren sat at the table, complaining about something, as usual. “The bread's too dense.” “It's the same recipe I've used for six years,” Caelan said. “That's my point.” Caelan didn't turn around. “If you don't like it, you can cook.” “I'm not saying I don't like it. I'm saying it's dense.” Nyra listened to them bicker. It was familiar now, comfortable in a way she still wasn't entirely used to. The kind of conversation that didn't mean anything and somehow meant everything. She added another piece of kindling to the fire. Caelan glanced at her. “You're thinking too loudly.” She looked up. “I didn't say anything.” “Exactly.” She almost smiled. --- They ate breakfast together. The bread was dense. Soren complained again, but Caelan ignored him. Nyra ate in silence, her mind e

Chapter 40: The Last Lesson Varek Thorne stood before the window of Alistair's study, watching the rain gather against the glass. He had always disliked rain. It made the world smell too much like wet earth and dying things. Behind him, Alistair turned a page. The quiet sound of paper sliding beneath his fingers was almost lost beneath the rain tapping against the window. Varek remained where he was, watching the drops gather and race down the glass. The study was warm, the fire burning steadily in the hearth, but he felt none of it. The cold seemed to have settled somewhere beneath his skin. Alistair had always been comfortable with silence. He could sit for hours without feeling the need to fill it, leaving other people to grow restless and reveal more than they intended. Varek had learned not to mistake that silence for passivity. Another page turned. Then Alistair spoke. “Magda hasn't sent a response.” Varek didn't turn around. “We don't need one. The girl is frighten