You're not allowed to fall apart.

Pinakabagong kabanata

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    You’re smart not to answer!

  Ava's POV But I could feel it. Feel the searing weight of his eyes on me, cold and unyielding, as though he could peel back my skin, see every frantic beat of my heart, every single crack in my brittle armor. He was dissecting me, piece by agonizing piece. “You’re already shaking,” he murmured, his voice closer now, dangerously close. He had taken another silent step towards me. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, Ava. A frantic little flutter. You think I’m going to hurt you?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Any sound would betray the terror that choked me. That amused him even more. A low, pleased hum resonated in his chest. “You’re smart not to answer,” he said flatly, stripping the shirt off completely and tossing it carelessly onto the floor beside the bed, a stark white pool against the dark carpet. His chest was broad, powerful, corded with lean muscle, his skin faintly marked with old scars—faint, silvery lines, relics of past battles. His wolf prowled just beneath th

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King     I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe.

  Ava's POV The soft, decisive click of the door was the only warning. I froze, every muscle in my body locking into a rigid tableau of fear. The faint sound of the lock turning was louder than the frantic blood rushing in my ears, louder than the pounding of my own terrified heart. My hands, which had just finished desperately wiping the last stubborn tears from my cheeks, fell uselessly into my lap, trembling uncontrollably. He was here. Damian Blackwood. My mate. My captor. I didn’t dare move, didn't breathe. My gaze was fixed on the intricate pattern of the carpet, hoping that if I remained perfectly still, perfectly silent, he might somehow overlook me. A foolish, child-like hope. The door opened slowly, deliberately, a dark rectangle widening into the brightly lit room, and he stepped inside, filling the doorway, his silhouette imposing and vast. He didn’t say a word. He rarely did, not when silence could be used as a weapon, as a means of intimidation. His dark

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    The Echo of the Mark

  Ava's POV The moment the grand, imposing doors of the ceremonial hall closed behind me, the last vestige of the public charade, the carefully constructed performance, evaporated. The opulent applause, the murmur of the crowd, the High Elder’s booming pronouncements—all were abruptly silenced, replaced by a roaring quiet that pressed in on me, deafening in its intensity. It felt like being plunged into the depths of a still, cold ocean. My heels clicked faintly against the polished marble as I walked down the long, empty corridor, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence. Each click echoed the finality of the ceremony, a morbid count of my dwindling freedom. Not even Bia was allowed to follow. Not tonight. Damian’s explicit instructions had been relayed by a stony-faced Jackson: "Ms. Sinclair will require privacy after the ceremony." Privacy. A cruel joke. Tonight, I was truly alone. Alone and… his. Damian Blackwood’s. The words echoed in my mind, a cold, sickening ma

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    This is the last moment you’ll ever be truly free, Ava.

  Damian's POV Time slowed. The opulent hall, the expectant faces, the very air seemed to stretch, to distill into this single, agonizing moment. She wore the gown I’d chosen. The pale cream silk flowed around her like a luminous mist, the pearl sleeves shimmering softly, the elegant neckline framing her delicate collarbones. Her hair was swept up, a cascade of loose, soft curls escaping around her face, softening its sharp angles, her skin glowing like she’d stepped directly out of moonlight, fragile and ethereal. But her eyes— Her eyes were empty. Devastatingly so. Stripped bare of all emotion, all life. They were wide, distant, reflecting nothing of the joyous occasion this should have been. She walked toward me, toward the altar, with a slow, measured pace, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She looked like she was headed to her execution, not her own mate ceremony. There was no defiance in her tonight, no spark of the fire I had glimpsed beneath her exhaustion. No fire

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    And then—she stepped in.

  Damian's POV The hall was pristine, almost unnervingly so. Every surface gleamed, every detail perfectly orchestrated. Golden chandeliers, massive and intricate, cast a warm, almost oppressive light over the vast space, illuminating the polished marble floors that reflected every flicker like captured fire. The air, usually crisp and cool in Blackwood Manor, was thick with the suffocating scent of formality, of ancient tradition, and the heavy weight of expectation. It was filled with the hushed, whispered voices of elders, of pack alphas from distant regions, of esteemed dignitaries and powerful business magnates—all waiting, all watching, their collective gaze a palpable force. But my mind wasn’t on them. My thoughts were a turbulent storm, fiercely battling against the cold, logical demands of my circumstances. It was on her. Ava Sinclair. The woman I was about to bind to my name, to my legacy, to my very existence. My mate, in contract if not in spirit. The irony was a

• Contract Marriage To The Alpha King    The Gown of Sacrifice

  Ava's POV The gown lay on the bed like a silent, shimmering warning. Its pristine, ethereal beauty was a stark contrast to the churning dread in my stomach. It was made of pale cream silk, its fabric flowing like liquid moonlight, intricately woven with tiny pearls along the sleeves and delicate lace that cascaded like whispers. It looked like something that belonged in a fairytale, draped over a bed in a sun-drenched tower. But this wasn't a fairytale. This was a cage, exquisitely dressed in silk, waiting to snap shut. Today. It was today. The Mate Ceremony. The ancient, binding ritual that would irrevocably tie me to Damian Blackwood. Not in spirit, not in love, not in any form of genuine connection—but in law, in legacy, and in his absolute control. My stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with every beat of my heart. I stood frozen at the edge of the bed, the opulent fabric gleaming under the morning light filtering through the wide, arched windows of the guest suite. The