บททั้งหมดของ The Alpha’s Forbidden Omega: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Juni’s POV“You’re staying here.”Kieran’s voice leaves no room for the argument I have made every time before this one. The rain is still hammering the shutters. Wren has already confirmed the name. Alden is still in the records hall. First light is still coming.I look at him. The bond is a low, tight current under my skin—anger, betrayal, the residual heat of everything that has not been settled between us. For the first time since the river I do not push to go with him.“Why?”“Because Alden has been inside my circle long enough to know every corridor that leads to this door. Because Lien is already in the cells and Maer is still missing. Because the Council hearing opens at first light and I will not give Crane a second open-air chance at you in the same day.” He holds my gaze. “And because if the name is only the first piece of what is sitting at my table, I need you alive and inside a room that is still under our control when the rest of it surfaces.”The honesty is harder to a

Juni’s POV “Someone is still waiting at the east service gate.” Wren stands just inside the door, rain dark on his shoulders. The lantern throws a small circle of light over covered furniture and dust. The room smells of old lavender and cold stone. Kieran has not sat down since we arrived. Neither have I. “How many?” Kieran asks. “Two. Plain coats. No visible crest. They’ve been there since the turn of the hour, watching the gate and the approach lane. They haven’t moved on the guards. They’re waiting for a woman to walk out alone.” Wren’s eyes flick to me, then back. “No one matching Maer’s description has been seen at any outer gate. She’s either already beyond the bounds or she never intended to leave by a gate we were watching.” The note’s instruction sits in the air between us. “Alone. We will be waiting.” “Alden?” Kieran’s voice is flat. “Still denying he knew the end use. He’s given two more river contacts—both go dark when we push. Lien’s name for him held. The rest o

Juni’s POV “It’s time.” Kieran’s voice is quiet. The lantern is nearly out. Through the north-wing window the dark has thinned to wet gray. The bond is a steady current under my skin—tight, awake, carrying the chamber ahead and the plain coats still standing at the east service gate. I stand. The cloak is on. The letters are in his pocket. “Wren?” “Antechamber. East gate watchers haven’t moved. No crest. No approach on the guards.” He meets my eyes. “Once we leave this room, the north wing is no longer cover. The hearing is public. If Crane’s people attempt anything between here and the chamber, it happens in the open.” “I know. We walk in anyway.” He nods once. We leave. The passages are cold. Our footsteps sound too clear on the stone. The bond tracks the distance between us—close enough that I feel the controlled tension in him, far enough that the space remains a choice. Wren meets us at the turn, speaks in a low rush, then peels away toward the chamber doors. The antecham

Juni’s POV“Speak, then.”The senior clerk’s voice carries. Ink. Polished wood. Wet wool. Every face turned toward the floor. Kieran steps forward. I stay level with his shoulder. The bond is a hard continuous line under my ribs—protective, furious, still spiked from the moment the coats vanished and the interim hold died with them.“The gate was not empty for the hour in question,” Kieran says. His voice is level. “It was cleared when the verification was ordered. That required knowledge of this chamber’s recess decision and enough time to move two men out of a lane before four Council guards arrived. The material on the record shows a steward paid to watch her, a coordinator inside my circle feeding schedules outward, a river exchange confirming Crane has known her location since the market lane, and a written instruction demanding she be sent alone to that same gate before first light. The empty gate does not disprove the net. It proves the net can reach into a Council process and

Juni’s POV“You’re quiet.”Kieran looks up from the table. The north-wing room is still gray with morning light. The letters are where we left them. The bond is steady under my skin—tighter than the brief calm at the window, but not the white-hot edge of the chamber. Wren has gone to run the list. The twenty-four hours are still spending themselves. Neither of us has said the word the clerks would accept as the cleanest answer.“I’m thinking,” he says.“About the list.”“About the list. About the empty gate. About the fact that the Council will take a mark as proof and treat everything else as argument.” He pauses. “About you.”I stay near the window. Outside, the courtyard is ordinary—wet stone, a servant crossing with a basket, the sound of someone calling down a passage. Ordinary feels strange after the hearing.“I’m not going to ask you to mark me because a clerk opened a ledger,” I say. “I already said that in front of half the territory.”“I know.”“And you’re not going to mark