Violet: Luna Of The One-eye Alpha のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

VIOLET’S POVI wake to the smell of herbs.Sharp.Bitter.Clean.It burns my nose.My eyelids feel heavy, as if someone stitched sleep into them with iron thread.A voice trembles through the haze.“Violet?” Zoey whispers.Her voice is soft. Fractured. Almost breaking.I force my eyes open.The room swims in white and gold.White walls.An open window.Wind lifting thin linen curtains.Sunlight spilling across polished floors.And beside my bed…Zoey.Her eyes are swollen. Red. Rimmed raw.And Merrin.Standing rigid near the window.Watching me like I might disappear again.Zoey gasps.“She’s awake!” she cries, her voice breaking with relief. Tears spill down her cheeks.Her hands grab mine. They are warm. Shaking. “You scared us,” she says, still trembling.My throat burns, like I swallowed smoke. “What… happened?” I ask. My voice is rough and weak.Merrin’s jaw tightens.“You don’t remember?”Then it all crashes back.Fire.Heat.Emily’s eyes.The scream.I swallow hard.“The kitche

ZOELLA’S POVI was still angry.Three days.Three whole days since we almost escaped Wolves-Heaven.Three days since Violet made me risk my neck… only to run back into Merrin’s arms like a lovesick fool.I stood at the tall arched window of her room, arms folded tight across my chest, staring at the iron gates below as if I could make them open again.“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered.Violet sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her long red hair in slow, dreamy strokes like nothing in this world bothered her. The bristles whispered through silk strands. Calm. Unbothered.“You’re still upset?” she asked lightly.“Still?” I spun around so fast my shirt flared. “We almost got caught. I distracted Merrin. I lied to the guards. I risked being flogged. And you…” I pointed at her. “...you ran back because you ‘love him too much’.”She bit her lip.To hide a smile.That made it worse.“You don’t understand,” she said softly. “He let me go.”“Oh, wonderful,” I snapped. “He unlocked the cage a

COMMANDER NOLAN’S POVI used to believe loving Violet in silence was noble.Honorable.Selfless.Tonight, it feels like cowardice wrapped in obedience.The palace is too silent.No laughter drifts through the barracks.No clank of training blades.No patrol jokes carried by the wind.Even the night insects seem afraid to sing.Only the low shift of spears outside the holding house.The scrape of metal boots against dirt.They are waiting for dawn.Waiting for her death.I sit at my desk in the commander’s quarters, staring at the drawer.When I pull it open, it’s still there… the folded paper I haven’t touched in ten years.I take it out and unfold it. The pages are yellow with age, soft along the creases from being opened too many times.My hands are steady in battle.They are not steady now.The paper rustles louder than it should, like it knows what it carries.Her name waits at the top, written in ink that once trembled with teenage hope.Violet.My throat tightens.“I was sixteen

VIOLET’S POVI remember the first night we arrived at Ironcrest Pack.I remember how small I felt.Not because I was weak.But because I was being weighed.Measured.Judged.Zoey held my hand the entire walk through the gates. The iron crest above the entrance glinted under the moon like a blade catching bloodlight. Tall stone walls loomed over us. Guard towers pierced the sky.No laughter.No warmth.Only watchful eyes.Silvan walked ahead of us, steady, regal, composed, as if he belonged there.He did not.Neither did we.Two elders waited in the courtyard. Gray hair braided tightly. Hard eyes sharpened by decades of suspicion. The air smelled of pine smoke and cold iron.“You request refuge,” the taller elder said, voice flat as stone.Silvan inclined his head, not quite a bow, not quite defiance. “Yes.”“You are Alpha of Luna-light,” the second elder replied slowly. “Why not take them to your own land?”Silvan’s jaw flexed.“It is not safe.”“For whom?” the elder pressed.A beat o

VIOLET’S POV“Again… Come on, Marrek. Just one more step.”My voice trembles, but I force a smile.He wobbles between us.Tiny fingers stretched wide. Legs unsure. Eyes burning with stubborn determination that doesn’t belong to a child.Silvan crouches a few feet away, arms open, steady as stone, but his gaze is anything but calm.“Come to me, son,” he murmurs.Son.The word hits something deep inside my chest—something fragile… something dangerous.Marrek grunts in frustration.His foot lifts.Drops.Lifts again.I stop breathing.“Good,” I whisper, barely holding myself together. “You’re doing so good.”He stumbles forward.One step.Then another.And then—He crashes straight into Silvan.A bright, unrestrained laugh bursts out of him, wild and alive, and something inside me cracks wide open.Silvan catches him easily, lifting him high like he weighs nothing.“That’s my boy.”Marrek squeals, grabbing at his face, his hair—anything he can reach.“Should we go again?” Silvan asks, hi