Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce! novel Chapter 216

Chapter 216: Chapter 216

Kael’s POV

She was going to be the death of me.

Not the enemies at the border. Not Magnus and his guerrilla raids. Not the wolfsbane-tipped arrows or the midnight ambushes or the slow, grinding pressure of a war fought in shadows.

Her.

My mate. My Luna. The woman currently sitting across from me at the kitchen table with her chin raised and that look in her eyes—the one that said she’d already made up her mind and this conversation was just a formality.

I rubbed my face with both hands.

"Say it again," I said.

"I’m going with you to the front lines today."

"And if I say no?"

"You already said yes. Two nights ago. In front of two very persuasive witnesses."

She wasn’t wrong.

I’d been outmaneuvered by two child. The Blood Crown Alpha, brought to his knees by a pair of children who thought their mother going to war while pregnant was *cool*.

I was never going to live that down. Fenrir hadn’t stopped laughing about it for two days.

"Aria."

"Kael."

I looked at her. Really looked at her.

She was wearing her hair pulled back, practical and simple. No jewelry. Low boots, easy to run in. A jacket that was loose enough to move in but dark enough to blend. She’d thought about this. Planned for it. She wasn’t being reckless—she was being strategic.

That almost made it worse.

Because it meant I couldn’t dismiss this as impulse. Couldn’t chalk it up to stubbornness or emotion. She was serious. Prepared. Ready.

And still pregnant.

Still carrying our child in a body that was still healing from what happened nine days ago.

My jaw tightened.

"One condition," I said.

She waited.

"If I say we leave, we leave. Immediately. No arguments. No ’just five more minutes.’ No ’but I can help.’ If I say go, you go. You don’t look back. You don’t hesitate. You run."

"Kael—"

"This is non-negotiable." I held her gaze. Let her see everything behind it—the fear I’d been swallowing for days, the images I couldn’t shake, the sound of her heartbeat on that hospital monitor getting weaker and weaker until I thought it would stop. "I need to hear you say it, Aria. If there is any danger—any at all—you listen to me. You retreat. You put yourself first. You put our baby first. No matter what."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

She was quiet for a moment. Studying me.

Then her expression softened. That shift she did—the one where the stubbornness melted just enough to let the tenderness through. The one that still, after everything, made my chest do something stupid.

"I promise," she said. Softly. Clearly. "If you say go, I go. No arguments. My life first. Baby’s life first."

I exhaled.

Some of the tension left my shoulders. Not all of it. Not even close. But enough.

"And you stay beside me the entire time. Not behind me. Not wandering off to inspect something interesting. Beside me."

"Beside you. Got it."

"And if anyone even looks at you wrong—"

"Kael."

"—I’m removing their head."

"That seems excessive."

"It’s proportional."

She stood up. Walked around the table. I watched her come, this woman who had somehow taken my whole world and rearranged it around herself without even trying.

She put her hands on my face.

Her palms were warm. Soft. I could feel the steady thrum of her pulse against my jaw, and something in me—something deep and primal and completely beyond my control—settled at the contact.

"I’ll be careful," she said. "I promise. I’ll listen to you."

"You’ve never listened to me a day in your life."

"That’s not true. I listen. I just don’t always agree."

She smiled. That smile. The one that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made her look like she was keeping a secret and the secret was that she loved me.

Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.

She pulled back. Her eyes were bright.

"I knew you were the best," she said.

I closed my eyes. Took a breath.

This woman was absolutely going to be the death of me.

---

The front-line camp was louder than I expected.

Not the organized tension I was used to—the controlled hum of soldiers doing their jobs, running drills, maintaining positions. This was different. This was raw.

Angry.

I heard it before we even cleared the tree line. Voices carrying through the morning air, sharp and hot. Metal on metal—weapons being sharpened with more force than necessary. The heavy thud of fists on training posts, over and over, rhythmic and vicious.

We came through the perimeter checkpoint and I saw it immediately.

The camp was electric. Soldiers moved in tight, agitated clusters, talking fast, gesturing hard. Two wolves near the eastern watchtower were arguing about something—their voices low but their body language screaming. A group by the armory was checking weapons with the kind of grim, eager energy that said they weren’t preparing to defend.

They were preparing to attack.

Ronan met us at the command tent.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify