Chapter 126

The Alpha King found me drowning in Elsa's research that evening. I’d basically moved into his private study like some squatter. Magical texts were everywhere, across the floor, stacked on furniture, even wedged inside the armrest of a chair.

The place looked like someone nuked a library and forgot to clean up after. Scrolls were crammed between empty teacups and cold, crusty plates. Honestly, I hadn’t moved since morning.

My spine hurt. My brain was fried. My eyes burned like I’d stared into the sun for six hours.

"Aurora," he said gently, pulling a chair closer like he was trying not to scare a wild animal. “I wanted to talk. Just us. About what’s been going on.” I looked up, blinking, halfway through translating something I probably wasn’t even supposed to be reading.

He gave me that look—warm and direct, that steady-anchored kind of concern that didn’t ask for attention, it just… made you want to hand it over. He was like that. Always had been.

His presence filled up the space, but in a soft way. Not loud like Raymond, who always felt like you were about to step on a landmine. Not cold like Kane, who kept everything locked behind layers of rank and self-control.

The Alpha King just had this gravity about him. Like even silence had weight around him. The kind of quiet that says you're safe here. You can breathe.

“If this is about the council dragging their feet again,” I started, voice dry from too much thinking and not enough water, but he held up a hand.

“It’s about Kane,” he said. And then, after a pause, “And the pain you’ve been trying to carry alone.”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the ribs. Just. Instant hurt. That kind of hurt where you suddenly realize how hard you’ve been holding yourself together.

I was good at shutting it out, Kane’s betrayal, the way he’d just switched off like I didn’t matter, like we hadn’t survived hell together, but the Alpha King saying it out loud broke through something I wasn’t prepared for.

I redirected my eyes to a translation I didn’t understand and swallowed the ache building behind my teeth.

“He made his choice,” I said eventually. “I have to accept it. Keep going.”

He studied me like he already knew that was only half true. His eyes were soft but sharp too, like he could see everything I wasn’t saying. “You are aware that Kane is my nephew?” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“His father was my younger brother,” he said. His voice rumbled with something akin to old grief. “After the war took them, I did what I could. I took him in. Watched over him. Tried to steer him correctly.”

I frowned, wondering where this was going.

“He’s terrified of being happy,” the Alpha King said, like he’d seen it too many times to ignore anymore. “He thinks caring equals weakness. That if he lets himself want something, the universe will rip it away just to prove a point. So he burns the bridge before anyone else can set it on fire.”

I thought of that night in the safehouse, the rare tenderness in his touch. How fast it disappeared by sunrise. One second we were human. The next, I was looking at stone again.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did,” I said, voice cracking.

“It doesn’t,” the Alpha King agreed. “It doesn’t excuse it. But it does explain it. And maybe... that helps you stop blaming yourself.”

He leaned forward then, resting his arms on his knees, the candlelight throwing deep shadows under his eyes. “Kane’s parents weren’t just warriors,” he said. “They were leaders who tried to fix a broken system. They thought if they loved hard enough—fought hard enough—they could change everything. And it got them killed. Kane saw that. And instead of following their path, he ran in the other direction.”

“He thinks love is a death sentence,” I whispered.

The Alpha King nodded. “Every time he’s cared, he’s lost. So now, when something good enters his life, he destroys it before it has the chance to be taken from him.”

I looked down at the ink-stained pages spread in front of me. “I never stood a chance with him,” I said, voice hollow. “I broke through for five seconds and he shut down like it never happened.”

“You were the first to get close enough to matter,” he said gently. “That’s not nothing. That means something.”

I wanted to cry. I didn’t. But I wanted to. “The Moon Goddess really has a messed up sense of humor,” I muttered. “First Raymond. Then Kane. Two disasters packaged like blessings. Is this supposed to be some cosmic joke?”

He didn’t laugh. Just looked at me with sympathy and a little sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could’ve protected you from all of it.”

That almost did it. That nearly broke me. Because no one had said that. No one had looked at the disaster of my heart to reassure me that, ‘Hey, that shouldn’t have happened to you.’

“I still love him,” I said quietly. My voice barely made it out. “Even now. Even after everything.”

The Alpha King didn’t flinch. “Love isn’t always enough,” he said. “Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is walk away. Let them figure it out. Let them hurt alone.”

We sat like that for a while. Just breathing in the quiet. Letting the pain settle instead of trying to outrun it. Then he reached for a tea set that had somehow been brought in without me noticing. The tiny clink of ceramic was weirdly soothing.

“I’ve made a decision about the Rogue King,” he said finally. His voice shifted—back to strategy now. “I’m pulling in our full forces. All loyal pack leaders across territories. We’re moving.”

Relief moved through me like heat. “And the council?”

“They can argue while the world burns,” he snapped. Which was... surprisingly blunt for him. “We’re not waiting for consensus anymore.”

That kind of resolve gave me something I didn’t know I needed. It made it feel like we had a shot. Like this war wasn’t unwinnable.

“What do you need from me?” I asked.

“Keep digging. Your intel’s been key. Even if the council’s too cowardly to act on it.”

I hesitated, thinking of Elsa’s crystal key. Of the magic I wasn’t supposed to be touching. “I may have access to... other resources,” I said. “Risky ones.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “What kind of resources?”

“The kind people don’t approve of. The kind that could get me locked up if things go wrong.”

He didn’t speak for a long time. Just looked at me the way leaders look at battlefields. Like he was already calculating every outcome.

“I trust your judgment,” he said eventually. “But don’t throw yourself on the fire like Kane’s parents did. We need people like you to rebuild once this is over.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can,” I said. It wasn’t a promise. Not really. But it was the closest I could get.

He seemed to understand that, too. “Then go do what needs to be done. You have my full support. Whatever form it takes.”

As he stood, I felt this ache in my chest. Like something unfinished was pressing against my ribs. I didn’t want Kane to think I hated him. That if I died tomorrow, the last thing between us would be bitterness.

“When you talk to Kane,” I said, staring down at the floor, “tell him... I hope he finds what he’s looking for. And I forgive him. For choosing fear over love.”

His eyes softened. I think he wanted to say something more, but he just nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

And then he was gone. Leaving me alone with the wreckage of spells and secrets and unreadable scrolls. But I didn’t feel alone. Not anymore. Not entirely.

It was time to finish this.

With or without Kane’s help.