Semua Bab The Lycan King's Omega Mate: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Everything around me was crashing in at once. It was nice to hear a voice that was not my own echoing in my mind. These intrusions thrummed through me, a collection of jumbled parts. It was extremely painful because somehow I felt like I was experiencing thousands of deaths in an instant. All in all the experience was quite shocking to say the least. With all the new memories rushing in, I somehow felt them carving their place in my body, bit by bit, death by death.Desperate and violent, there was another me trying to establish itself.Elara's POV - 500 Years AgoI was Amaris, an identity I was bequeathed by the moon. To never experience a world of darkness is what Amaris translates to which is quite ironic. I seem to remember that I was not simply a woman- rather, I was the High Priestess of the Moon and a guardian who protected the Lycan and werewolf children. My duty was to protect, and in doing so, I lost hope in everything that I believed in. My dreams were foolish.The Lycans w

Lucas’ POVSabrina and I learned early on that survival wasn’t something handed to you—it was something you fought for. We learned this from our father’s fists and our mother’s silence. When Dad lashed out, Mom never flinched. She didn’t intervene, didn’t shield us. She just watched, her arms folded, detached and cold, as if the chaos in her home wasn’t her problem.Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe we weren’t.Dad had a special kind of hate reserved for Sabrina. She was too much like him—ruthless, quick to anger, always calculating. He couldn’t beat that instinct out of her, so he settled for trying to snuff out her spirit. I was the opposite. I inherited his power, but not his cruelty. My softness—the thing he called weakness—drove him mad.I clenched my fists at the memory, the cold bite of wet metal snapping me back to the present. Water dripped from my hair, soaking the thin shirt plastered to my chest. Alpha Matthew’s men worked quickly, their smug faces glowing with sadistic delight as th

Elara's POVI woke up to voices I didn’t want to hear. My mother and Aunt Silvia were hovering over me, their expressions tight with something between relief and expectation. I blinked a few times, my head pounding like a war drum. The memories from my past life, from Amaris, were still sharp and raw in my mind. The betrayal, the curse, the fire that had burned through me. And underneath all of it, that voice—hers—whispering, urging me to act.“You’re finally awake,” my mother said, her voice soft but tinged with urgency. “We were beginning to worry the fever had taken hold for good.”I sat up slowly, the weight of Amaris’ memories pressing against me like an anchor. The room was spinning, and my body felt like it had been dragged through every battlefield from here to the moon.“Where… where is Lucas?” My voice cracked, and I barely recognized it. “Is he okay? What about Sabrina? Did she survive? Did Aurelio—” My words tumbled out, desperate and jagged, but neither of them answered.

Alpha Darian, Lucas’ FatherThe basement of the packhouse was a dark, damp place, long forgotten by most. The air was thick with dust, the stone walls slick with moisture. Darian stood at the center of the room, his towering frame illuminated by the faint glow of a single hanging bulb. In his hand was a rusted crowbar, its edge already chipped from his relentless prying at the floorboards. His jaw was tight, his movements sharp and furious.His thoughts, however, were far darker than the room itself.Five hundred years. That was how long it had been since he buried the artifact under this very foundation. A piece of power so ancient, so potent, it could turn the tide of any battle. He had hidden it here during his rise to Lycan King, knowing even then that one day it might be the key to securing his ultimate goal—the eradication of the werewolves and the enslavement of the witches. Only Lycans, he believed, should rule. The lesser creatures were nothing more than pawns, tools to be us

Lucas POVI stood in the centre of the clearing, leaning against one of the logs and folding my arms. I watched the rogues shift uncomfortably under my glare. They had no reason to trust me, just like I too planned the worst for them after this was over. They were a risk. Something about them was off. I trust my instinct above all else, after this, Sabrina and I would slaughter them.“These witches aren’t fools,” I started, making sure my tone was controlled. “They will predict each strategy. They’re waiting for me, they know I’ll come for my mate. They will have wards, traps and an army in ambush. We can’t go into their game strong. We rewrite the rules.”The rogues looked at each other uncomfortably. By not speaking they told their own story—they were unwilling participants, yes, but nonetheless essential.From my right, Sabrina’s voice came, harsh and tinged with dubiosity. “Then you think that relying on them is a clever rewrite?” She pointed vaguely at the assembled group with a