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Chapter 117

Author: Ladybee
last update Last Updated: 2025-06-23 16:46:54
It has to belong to the Alpha King.

Lady Celestia’s father.

He’s not even here, and still... his energy hums around the room, pressing into my chest like a weighted blanket. Oddly enough, it’s not scary.

It’s... comforting.

And that makes my skin crawl.

Why would his energy—his power—someone I’
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  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 120

    Silence hangs for a moment. Even he didn’t expect that. “I—I don’t know, Dad,” she stammers. “Maybe… maybe something’s wrong with it. But it’s not important, really. Let’s not waste any more time. Please. Just give—” She stops. Probably realising he’s no longer listening—because I can feel his g

  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 119

    I can’t breathe. The moment the Alpha King steps further into the hall, it’s like all the air is sucked from my lungs. My chest tightens, a violent pressure clamping down until I feel like I’m suffocating. My head dips without warning, heavy as stone, falling forward like it no longer belongs to me

  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 118

    I try to hold her gaze, try to look strong. But my fingers twitch against the burning silver, and I know she sees it. I can’t hide the flicker of fear that flashes in my eyes. “Ohhh,” she coos mockingly, “there it is. There’s that little crack. You’re afraid.” She moves even closer, her breath bru

  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 117

    It has to belong to the Alpha King. Lady Celestia’s father. He’s not even here, and still... his energy hums around the room, pressing into my chest like a weighted blanket. Oddly enough, it’s not scary. It’s... comforting. And that makes my skin crawl. Why would his energy—his power—someone I’

  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 116

    Everything hurts. My head feels like it’s been cracked open. I groan, low and hoarse, the sound scraping up my throat like it’s crawling through broken glass. For a second, I wonder if I’m dead. Maybe this is it. Maybe I didn’t survive after all the shit Jack’s uncle pumped into me—needle after n

  • Submission is Not My Style    Chapter 115

    The door to the deepest cell creaks open, and I step inside. The air here is damp and chokes like smoke, thick with the stench of rot and old blood. Torches flicker on the jagged stone walls, casting dancing shadows that twist like demons. Iron chains hang from the ceiling, some stained with dried b

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