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CHAPTER 8: Part 06
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2025-09-15 18:00:39Karl didn't wait for a reply, didn't ask me to agree with his assessment or share his qualified optimism.
He turned toward the door, movements heavy with exhaustion and something that looked like guilt.
Walked across the room with the deliberate pace of someone who was already regretting what he'd said, what he'd revealed, what he'd allowed himself to hope for.
And paused only once, hand on the handle, without looking back.
"You're not weak," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Even if you think you are right now."
Then he left.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded like finality.
And I was alone.
Kael – First Person POV
She didn't scream.
That's what stuck with me, what echoed in the empty spaces of my mind long after I'd left her there, long after the door had closed and the lock had clicked and I'd walked away from what I'd done.
That room had heard things over the
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I stared across the table at my father through the haze of humiliation and unwanted arousal.He hadn't moved. Not really.The tremor in his hand had stopped, though the goblet still tilted precariously in his grip, crimson wine threatening to spill over the silver edge. His jaw remained locked, his lips pressed into a line so thin it was almost invisible. But his eyes—His eyes gave him away.They darted, quick and frantic, between the faces of the other Alphas, searching desperately for a crack in their laughter. For someone—anyone—who might offer him a lifeline, a defense, a moment's respite from the carnage Kael had unleashed.None did.They were all too busy reveling in his destruction, too drunk on wine and cruelty to spare him even false sympathy.And then, when his gaze flicked to mine—just for an instant, just long enough for our eyes to meet across the wreckage of the evening—I saw the truth.Not defiance. Not rage. Not even sorrow.Fear.Pure, animal fear.The look of a wolf
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He thought Kael was about to speak in his defense. That his silence had been patience, not calculation. That perhaps this time—this once—Kael would recognize him as an equal before the table of Alphas. Would claim him as family, would defend the bond between them.I saw it in the way he lifted his chin, just slightly. The way his shoulders eased, as if readying to nod in agreement with whatever Kael said next. The pathetic gratitude that crept into his eyes.A son-in-law speaking for his father-in-law.A bond. A unity.A lie so beautiful he couldn't help but believe it.But I knew him.I knew the way his mind worked, the way he played with his prey before he devoured it.And I knew he wasn't going to defend anyone.Not me. Not my father.Least of all my father.Kael raised his goblet higher, his voice even and smooth when it finally came, carrying across the table without effort. Every word was perfectly enunciated, each syllable designed for maximum impact."Correction," he said, and
Bound To The Ruthless Alpha CHAPTER 11: Part 02
I felt every laugh slice across my skin, flaying me open one by one. Each guffaw was a claw, each chuckle a blade, until I was nothing but raw nerve endings sitting in silk and pretending to be whole.But it wasn't only me they laughed at.It was him—my father.Alpha Roran Vale, who had once commanded his own wolves with iron authority, who had raised me to believe strength was a birthright and weakness was death. Who had taught me that power was everything and mercy was for the conquered.Now he sat hunched at the edge of Kael's table like a beggar at a feast, teeth bared not in pride but in strain, his knuckles whitening around his goblet as the laughter ate him alive piece by piece.His face didn't redden with embarrassment. It paled, drained of every ounce of dignity, every shadow of the commanding presence he'd once possessed. The Alpha who had terrified me as a child, who had ruled with fear and fury, reduced to this—a shell of a man enduring mockery for the scraps of relevance
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The laughter around the table had changed.At first, it had been light, harmless—the kind of banter wolves shared when wine was poured and platters of meat were carved. The air had been thick with smoke and satisfaction, the scent of roasted meat mingling with expensive wine and the musk of powerful wolves celebrating another successful gathering.But the deeper the cups were drained, the sharper the edges of their words became. Wine had a way of loosening tongues and sharpening claws, and what had started as camaraderie was slowly transforming into something more dangerous. More predatory.I sat still, my spine straight as a blade, Kael's hand heavy on my thigh beneath the tablecloth, while I pretended to study the shimmer of my untouched wine. The goblet felt cold against my palm, the silver stem slick with condensation. I tried to drown out the noise, the endless boasting and sly insults that seemed to bounce off the stone walls and echo back twice as loud, but every sound seemed t
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The rage was clean and cold and perfect. It gave me something to focus on other than the heat of his touch, other than the humiliation of my body's involuntary responses. It was mine in a way nothing else in this room was.And then, his voice again—smiling."Smile, my lady."The command was soft but absolute. A reminder that even my facial expressions belonged to him now, that even my emotional responses were performance for his political theater.I turned to him slowly.My lips curled.And I smiled.Not soft.Not sweet.A smile carved from everything he'd failed to break in me.This smile is proof—proof that something in me still fights, still resists, still refuses to be his.It was the smile of someone who had stared into the abyss and refused to blink. The smile of someone who had been pushed to the edge and chosen to stand rather than fall. It was defiance crystallized into expression, rebellion distil
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The kind of conversational snare that looked innocent on the surface but had razor-sharp edges underneath. Whatever I said, however I responded, he would twist it into something that served his purposes.Still… I didn't spring it.He waited.Patient as a spider in its web, confident that his prey would eventually struggle into the strands he'd laid.Then added, voice lowering like venom slipping beneath skin—"In Karl's arms, I mean."The mention of Karl's name sent a spike of something through me—not quite anger, not quite pain, but something that burned nonetheless. The memory of being carried, of gentle hands and worried eyes, of someone treating me like I was worth saving.I turned to face him.Slowly.My heart was loud, but my voice wasn't."He was doing what needed to be done," I said. "You left me there."Truth. Simple, clean truth.The words came out steadier than I felt. Matter-of-fact. Like I was discussing the weather instead of the moment when Karl had found me broken and
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