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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN (◕દ◕)
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2025-10-26 23:19:26
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THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN (◕દ◕)
Hours seemed to pass before the trees began to thin, giving way to fields slick with rain. In the distance, faint lights flickered—a small town nestled at the bend of a river, its roofs glistening beneath the storm.Elara’s heart leapt. “Shelter…”Ryker’s grip on her hand tightened. “If we are careful. Inns breed questions. But we have no choice.” His eyes darted across the fields, ever wary. “Come. Stay close.”They crossed the muddy flats, the rain masking their movements, until at last they reached the outskirts of the town. Lanterns swung outside shuttered homes, their glow blurred by the downpour. The streets were near-empty, save for a lone cart rattling through the muck and a dog that slunk beneath an awning.At the center stood a modest inn, its sign creaking on rusted chains. A warm light glowed from within, and the smell of wood smoke drifted through the rain.Elara shivered, her teeth chattering. “Please, Ryker…”He nodded quickly. “A night’s rest. One night
THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN (〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)
The manor’s banners whipped in the gathering wind, the trumpets still echoing faintly down the valley. Villagers of Kareth clustered in the square, whispers darting from mouth to mouth like startled birds. They watched as Lord Sawyer, perched upon his black destrier, reined in sharply before the cluster of cottages. His face was hard, his lips pressed into a cruel line.The Duke’s sanction had filled him with new authority, and his hunger for Elara made his patience razor-thin. He scanned the crowd with venom in his eyes.“Bring forth the old man,” Sawyer barked. “The one called Rae.”Gasps stirred the crowd. Heads turned. From the edge of the assembly, a figure stepped forward, his back bent slightly with age, but his bearing steady as an oak. Rae’s gray hair caught the dim sun, his weathered hands gripping the simple walking stick he had carried for years.Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. “So. The father of the traitor.”Rae stopped a few paces before the Lord’s horse, looking up at him with
THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE(◡ ω ◡)
Ryker pulled Elara along the narrow path, his grip tight on her hand. She stumbled once on a root, but he steadied her without breaking stride. His breath came harsh, but his senses were sharper than ever—every shout from the village, every crash of boots echoing against stone, painted the danger behind them.They broke through a thicket, branches scratching at their cloaks, and came upon a hollow where the stream trickled downhill. Ryker halted, chest heaving.“Elara,” he said, crouching low. “We can’t keep to the open. They’ll hunt the ridges. We’ll take the streambed—mask our tracks.”She nodded, her face pale, auburn locks spilling from her hood like fire against shadow. “I trust you.”The words nearly undid him. Trust—she gave it so freely, though the world crumbled around them. He squeezed her hand once more, then stepped into the cold water, leading her downstream, careful to place her feet where his had already broken the surface.Behind them, Rae’s voice rang sharp against t
THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
The afternoon sun stretched over the valley, golden light slanting across the cottages and smoke trails curling from hearths. Ryker swung an axe down into a thick block of wood, splitting it clean. He gathered the pieces into his arms, the scent of pine and sap clinging to him as he carried them toward the gentle slope leading to Rae’s house. The rhythm of it—chopping, stacking, carrying—had begun to soothe him. A routine. A life that, though simple, tasted sweeter than any dream he had dared while in the Duke’s service. Rae sat where he always did in the afternoons, perched on his stool outside the small house with a skein of yarn looped around his bent fingers. The old man’s hands moved slow but steady, twisting and weaving, his eyes half-lidded in thought. When he saw Ryker crest the hill with the firewood, he set the yarn aside and smiled.“You’ll have me spoiled,” Rae said, voice rough with age. “Another day or two of this and I’ll forget how to fetch my own firewood.”R
THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TEN (≧▽≦)
The path narrowed as they climbed, pine branches brushing against Elara’s sleeves. The air grew crisper with every step, scented with resin and damp earth. Behind them, the village lay tucked in its valley cradle, smoke curling upward like threads of spun silver. Ahead, jagged ridges loomed, dark against the morning sky.Rae trudged steadily, his wool cloak flapping at his heels. He leaned on his walking stick, but his stride betrayed strength still coiled in his wiry frame. Ryker walked close behind, steadying Elara when roots snagged her skirts. She had insisted she could manage, but her slippers were ill-suited for the rocky ground. Every now and then, she stumbled, cheeks burning as Ryker’s calloused hand caught her elbow.“You’ll not last an hour up here in court shoes,” Rae remarked without turning. “We’ll see about that when we reach the cabin. A pair of boots will serve you better than all the silks in the empire.”Elara bit her lip, unused to such bluntness, but she nodded. “
THE POSSESSIVE ALPHA KING AND HIS FATED QUEEN CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINE ( ◜‿◝ )♡
The path sloped down into the valley where the village lay, roofs of thatch and timber clustered close, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. For Elara, the sight was unlike anything she had known. Gone were the towering stone walls, the echoing marble floors, the stifling trappings of nobility. Here was life simple and unadorned, where the rhythm of day and night seemed written not by decree but by the land itself.Ryker slowed his pace as they passed beneath a wooden arch, its beams carved with symbols worn smooth by rain and years. His horse’s hooves clicked against the cobbled path, and already voices rose in greeting.“Ryker!” cried one of the women from a doorway, her gray hair escaping its kerchief as she rushed forward. “Goddess above, it is you!”Others followed — stout, rosy-cheeked matrons with aprons dusted in flour or damp from laundry. They came like a tide, clucking and cooing, their hands reaching for Ryker’s arms, his shoulders, as though to prove he was no phantom but
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