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Chapter Forty-Six - Fragile doesn't exist
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2026-01-03 07:56:06
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The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Sixty-Three - Coward
The moment my father steps toward me again. Something inside me snaps.Not cracks. Not bends.Snaps.Before anyone can stop me, before my body can remember fear, I step forward and close the distance between us.And I hit him.The sound is sharp and unmistakable, skin against skin, echoing through the funeral hall like a second gunshot.Gasps explode around us.Cameras flash.National television catches the exact moment my palm connects with his face, the shock rippling through him as his head turns slightly to the side.For the first time in my life, he doesn’t look angry.He looks stunned.His eyes snap back to mine, wide and disbelieving, like he’s staring at a stranger wearing his daughter’s face.Good.I lean in just enough that only he can hear me—my voice low, steady, lethal.“I’m going to ruin you,” I say.Not yelling. Not shaking.Certain.“Not Dante. Not his family. Not the Crows. Not even her,” I add, flicking my gaze briefly toward my mother’s casket. “Me.”His jaw tight
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Sixty-Two - Trouble
The priest steps toward me, slow and gentle, like he’s afraid I might shatter if he moves too quickly. He opens his arms without asking, and when he pulls me into a soft hug, I lose the fight entirely.“That was beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick. “Truly.”I feel his shoulders shake.He’s crying.That’s what does it.The sound tears something open inside me, and suddenly I’m crying too, harder than I meant to, harder than I wanted. I’d tried so carefully to hold it together. To be composed. Strong. Untouchable.But grief doesn’t care about composure.I press my face briefly into his shoulder, breathing through it, letting it pass through me instead of burying it where it will rot.“Thank you,” he murmurs again. “She would have been so proud of you.”The words hit deeper than anything else today.When he releases me, I wipe my face once and straighten, not because I’m done hurting, but because I’m done hiding it.I go to step down when suddenly, the doors open. Not gently. Not resp
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Sixty-One - Reality
The priest steps forward with practiced calm, smoothing the front of his black robes before resting both hands on the lectern.His voice carries easily through the room, measured, warm, reverent.“We are gathered here today to honor the life of Elena Moretti,” he begins. “A woman known not for the power attached to her name, but for the kindness she chose to show despite it.”I close my eyes.“She was a philanthropist, a patron of countless charities, an advocate for the sick, the poor, the forgotten. She believed money was meaningless unless it was used to lift others.” He pauses, letting the words settle. “And she believed, perhaps stubbornly so, that compassion was never weakness.”A murmur ripples through the crowd. Soft nods. Quiet agreement.“She will be missed deeply,” the priest continues. “Not just by her family, but by the many lives she touched in ways large and small.”I feel Dante’s presence beside me, still, steady, but the ache in my chest grows anyway.Then the priest
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Sixty - Death
The morning comes quietly.Too quietly.New York is wrapped in gray when I open my eyes—snow drifting past the tall windows in soft, hesitant flakes. The city feels hushed, like it knows what today is.Danika doesn’t say a word while she helps me get ready.She doesn’t need to.The dress is black silk, smooth and heavy in a way that feels deliberate. It doesn’t cling, doesn’t beg for attention. It commands it. I pull my hair into a neat bun, my fingers steady as I pin it in place with the black crow wings my mother loved so much. She used to say crows were misunderstood. Loyal. Smart. Survivors.I wear them for her.Black heels, simple, practical. Nothing dramatic. Over it all, I slip into the long velvet coat, almost like a trench, fur lining the inside. Warm. Protective. Armor disguised as elegance.New York is cold today. The kind of cold that seeps into bone. Snow dusts the sidewalks, catching in the hems of coats and the edges of umbrellas.Everyone else is dressed in black too.
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Fifty-Nine - Truth
She trembles, body tensing as I rub her swollen nub with my free hand, circling fast. Her orgasm hits like a storm, walls clamping down, milking me as she screams into the pillow, her release squirting out around my shaft.The vise-like squeeze pulls me over the edge. I release her throat, shoving her face down into the mattress as I pound through her spasms, groaning as I cum again, flooding her pussy with thick spurts of seed until it overflows, running down her thighs.I collapse over her back, both of us spent and shaking, my cock softening inside her. I kiss the nape of her neck, loosening my grip on her hair, and we sink into the sheets together, the room filled with our heavy breaths and the scent of sex.For a moment, neither of us speaks.Then I murmur, “You okay?”She exhales, a soft huff that turns into a quiet laugh. “I’m… great.”That makes me snort. “That wasn’t convincing.”She laughs again, but it fades quicker this time. Her shoulders tense under my chest.“I’m not,”
The King’s Wrong Captive Chapter Fifty-Eight - Take it
She obeys, scooting back to lie down fully, legs parting in invitation.I climb over her, settling between her thighs, the head of my cock nudging her entrance. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, and I push in.Slow at first, inch by inch, her tight walls stretching around me, gripping like a vice.We both groan at the fullness, her nails digging into my shoulders as I bottom out, balls pressed against her ass.I hold still for a moment, savoring the way she pulses around me, then start to move, long, deep thrusts that have the bed creaking under us. Her breasts bounce with each drive, and I lean down to suck one nipple into my mouth, teeth grazing as I fuck her harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the room.Aria meets me thrust for thrust, her heels digging into my back, moans turning to cries as I angle my hips to grind against her clit.My hand slides up her body, fingers wrapping around her throat, not squeezing yet, just holding, feeling her pulse race und
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