บททั้งหมดของ Rejected Omega, Alpha's Fate: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Chapter 21--A Lesson in HumilityElias walks beside me, quiet and steady, while I try to keep my breathing under control. The forest feels too open after what happened at the Luna Pool. Every pulse through the pack link hits like a bruise under my skin—sharp, hot, impossible to ignore.I don’t let it show. Or I try not to.Elias notices anyway.The trees thin, and the pack house lights spill across the clearing. Normal pack noise drifts from the porch—laughter, footsteps, voices that have no idea how close Adrian came to losing control.Another pulse hits the link. My shoulders tighten before I can stop them.“That one was Adrian,” Elias says quietly.“I know.” My voice comes out tighter than I want.We step into the open. A few pack members glance our way, but none approach. Elias’s presence is enough to keep them from trying, and I’m grateful for it.Another flicker hits—lighter, but still sharp. My fingers curl. Elias shifts closer, not touching me, just… there.“You’re holding

Chapter 23--Alpha Under PressureThe headache starts behind my eyes before my feet even hit the floor.It’s not a normal ache. It’s the jagged, burning echo of the pack link—still raw, still vibrating with the collective contempt of a pack that watched their Alpha’s son get handled like an errant pup. Aldrich’s reprimand from last night is burned into the edges of my aura, cold and absolute, but it’s that same gravelly, mocking amusement curling off him that makes Drago claw so hard against my ribs he leaves phantom gashes across my lungs.I don’t look at the mirror on the way out of my quarters. I don’t need to see the exhaustion carved into my face or the dark, restless hunger in my eyes.The walk down to the dining hall is a gauntlet I already know I have to run. Every corridor smells like old cedar, roasted meat, and the quiet, prickling awareness of wolves who suddenly remember who holds the chain. Footsteps shift away as I approach. Doors close a fraction faster. They aren’t ope

CHAPTER 25 —The Scar That WokeThe forest behind the training yard is quiet in a way the pack house never is—no footsteps, no whispers, no judgment. Just the low hum of insects and the distant rush of wind through the pines. I step deeper into the trees, letting the noise of the yard fade behind me.Drago is still pacing.You’re running, he growls.“I’m walking.”Running, he repeats, claws scraping along the inside of my ribs. Distance won’t fix your head.I grit my teeth and keep moving. The air is cooler here, sharper, easier to breathe. But it doesn’t settle the wolf. It doesn’t settle me.Everything feels off.My aura is stretched thin, pulled tight like a wire ready to snap. My skin feels too small. My bones feel too hot. My pulse keeps stuttering in ways I don’t understand.And Drago—Drago is acting like he’s waiting for something.You felt it, he says. Back in the yard.“I felt instability,” I snap. “That’s it.”He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through my spine.L

CHAPTER 27 — When The Scar Tightens Elias doesn’t move away. He stays right beside me, steady as a stone, even with Sylvie pressed so close to the surface that my skin feels too tight. His presence is grounding—solid in a way that makes the air around us feel less sharp, less charged. The porch light isn’t on; the late‑afternoon sun hangs low, warm against the siding. The air cools with the shift toward evening, carrying that faint edge of night that always makes Sylvie more alert. But she is warm—too warm—coiled like heat under my ribs, restless in a way that makes my breath shorten. He’s watching the treeline, she murmurs. I stiffen. “Who?” Not Elias. Her voice sharpens. The unstable one. My breath catches. “Adrian?” No. A low growl rolls through my mind. The one inside him. Drago. Elias hears the change in my breathing and shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “She’s talking again?” I nod. “She says… he’s watching.” Elias doesn’t panic. He just studies the treel

CHAPTER 29 — The Scar Remembers The Temple is finally quiet.The last of the tools are stacked, the tarps folded, the fresh-cut wood scent clinging to my clothes. My shoulders ache from hauling stone and scrubbing old carvings, but it’s the kind of ache that means progress. Good progress.I lock the supply cabinet, dim the lanterns, and step outside. The sky is streaked with fading gold, the heat of the day finally easing. By the time I reach my room at the pack house, exhaustion settles deep in my bones.I wash up, change, and crawl into bed. The sheets are cool. The pillow soft. Sylvie curls quiet inside me, tired but calm.My eyes drift shut.Sleep pulls fast.---Moonlight. Forest. Stillness.Then the spark.The moment Sylvie first stirred inside me—bright, curious, gentle. A soft hum under my ribs, a breath that wasn’t mine, a whisper of wind in my bones.I’m here.I remember falling to my knees, overwhelmed by her presence. Her warmth. Her excitement. Her trust.The dream h