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Chapter Fixty Six
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The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Sixty Two
ADRIAN“You’re serious? After all that—vomiting, groaning, collapsing—you just want red oranges?” I nearly choke on my own chuckle as I watch her lean against the bathroom wall, completely worn out. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion—but she was dead serious.“What? You’re the one who woke me up, so yeah. Red oranges,” she mutters, barely lifting her head.“Red oranges… in the middle of the night?” I exhale through my nose, pinching the bridge. Then I grin. “Screw it. Let’s make it romantic.”Ten minutes later, I pulled into Quickmart’s half-lit parking lot, still slightly amused, still half asleep. The idea was simple: grab the damn red oranges, get back, and put her to bed.I head to the fruit aisle, find the juiciest batch of red oranges, and then… I look up.She’s gone.I swear I left her seated by the car. Where the hell did she go?And then, like something out of a comedy sketch, I hear it. Packet crinkling. Loud, unmistakable. Like a raccoon in a
The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Sixty One
SYRAA scent pulled me from sleep — something sweet, floral, almost mischievous. It curled around my senses like silk, warm and teasing, coaxing me upright before my mind even caught up.I blinked.The room was drenched in soft red light, low and mysterious. Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by the quiet flame of scattered candles. The flowers came next — petals forming a path, as if someone had spilled romance right through the room, one bloom at a time.Then came the music.A single note. Gentle. Lonely. And then another, deeper, richer — a melody blooming in the quiet.I squinted through the glow and stilled. There he was.Adrian.Standing at the edge of his stupid dining table — which now looked like a scene stolen from a dream. A red cloth fell elegantly over the surface, two covered plates waiting, silver glinting softly. He stood tall, playing an actual violin like some phantom lover from a midnight novel. The bow glided across the strings, slow and deliberate.I glanc
The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Sixty
WHITE CARNAGEBLUE CARNAGE: GABRIELLE SMITH“So, I’ll be in charge of the operation,” Judith announces as she stands by the tall glass window, her silhouette framed against the glittering city skyline below.“Was baiting them with the Solace Project your idea too?” I ask, settling into the seat across from Kane, who’s already lost in the slow pull of his vape. “I mean, there’s no way you could’ve just known Syra was the Blessed Luna, right?”She lets out a dry chuckle, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a sip. “Where I was raised, there was a legend—one that spoke of the return of the Alpha King and the rise of the Blessed Luna. Let’s just say,” she turns slightly, eyes gleaming under the low lights, “everything pointed to her. So I set the bait. I’ve waited for this moment longer than I can remember.”“And what happens if you finally go viral with your identity?” Zacharia chimes in from the shadows. “Are you prepared for that fallout? It’s been, what, ten years since you l
The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Fifty Nine
SYRA“Is it done?” I ask, looking at Linda as she adjusts her glasses.“The Crystal is just a mix of memories molded into one,” she replies.“Yeah,” Luiz chips in, “that’s why it’s called the Memory Crystal. What we’re curious about is how it actually works.”“Have you figured it out?” I ask—just as a soft chuckle echoes from the other team.“Are you serious? She cracked it? Stop bluffing. Even our brightest minds found it too complicated, and you’re saying she managed?” Josie scoffs. One of the main tech leads from Steinhart.“Stop messing around,” Kevin adds, voice dry. “You think we’re just here to watch?”“What is with these people?” Becky mutters under her breath, “We’re on the same side, you know.”Silence falls like a cold mist. They stare at us—challenging, skeptical.“Okay, Linda. The stage is yours, genius,” I say, motioning for her to continue.She turns to her laptop, fingers tapping away as a projection flickers to life on the screen. A visual of a human brain—complex, in
The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Fifty Eight
NEW GEN MOONHART PACKALPHA MAXWELL“I won’t sink into what’s going on—we all know why we’re here,” Adrian said, making that same annoying speech of his, the one that always sounded like a war anthem wrapped in smugness.It had been nearly a decade since the twelve of us last sat in this room together—our original headquarters back in Ngong Hills. Isolated, silent, and cloaked in mist most mornings, it was the perfect base. We all loved this place—the sharp breeze, the cold air, the quiet that wrapped around the hills like a shield.The meeting room was long, military in build—metallic walls, a war table at the center, and seats aligned like we were still those twenty-something overachievers competing with the old wolves on high-tier missions. We even had our own quarters at the back, designed for long-term stays.We were Moonhart—the new generation pack. Twelve of us, aged between twenty and twenty-eight when it all began. We bonded over the chaos of youth, purpose, and that relentl
The Love Game With Enemy Alpha Chapter Fity Seven
THE CRIMSON PACKGOTHIC LUNA SOPHIEHe still reeked of it.Death.That same clinging scent from before. It hadn’t changed. If anything, it was heavier now—thicker, like rot left to fester in silence. Whatever he’d done back then… it wasn’t natural. And it sure as hell wasn’t something you saw every day. The kind of malice radiating from him wasn’t just sinister—it was unnatural.I exhaled slowly, the tension clawing through my chest. He stood there, casually, like we weren’t seconds away from losing our shit. In front of us… that thing had just devoured an entire roasted turkey—bone and all—like it was bread. Still unsatisfied, black sludge dripped from the corners of his mouth like ink, staining everything it touched."Well, gentlemen," he said with a voice too calm, too amused, "shall we finally go find where the other face is? Or are we done with the staring contest?"The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful—it was taut, like a wire stretched to snapping. The question lingered in
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