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Chapter 216: A Room Full of Secrets
Last Updated:
2025-07-04 13:42:37
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The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 317– Morning Reflections
Eva’s point of view The sun rises slowly over the horizon, casting soft gold across the waves. The sand is still cool beneath my bare feet, damp from the night. I inhale, letting the salty breeze fill my lungs, grounding me, bringing a strange sense of peace that I haven’t felt in weeks. I walk slowly along the shore, feeling each step sink slightly into the sand. The waves lap at my ankles, gentle and insistent, whispering secrets I cannot yet hear. My thoughts are heavy, tangled, spinning around the same question I’ve been trying to push away: what is best for the baby? Artemis hums softly in my mind, her presence a warm, steady pulse. Eva… you’re thinking too much. “I can’t help it,” I whisper. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve survived… it was never about me alone. And now… now there’s this life depending on me.” Yes. Her voice is calm but firm. The baby. It changes everything. You feel the weight because it is real. Because you care. I stop walking, letting the
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 316– Whispers on the Shore
Eva’s point of view The wind greets me as I step outside, tugging at my hair and carrying the salty tang of the sea. The pack house fades behind me, its walls, its windows, and even the echoes of laughter left behind. Today, the world narrows to the sand beneath my feet, the endless horizon, and the weight of choices pressing against my chest. I walk without hurry, toes sinking into the damp sand, leaving temporary tracks that the waves will soon claim. Artemis stirs in my mind, calm and steady, a pulse of quiet reassurance amidst the storm of thoughts. “Artemis,” I murmur, letting the words drift on the wind. “I… I feel like I’m on the edge of something. Something I can’t quite name. You’ve told me so much already, but…” My voice falters. “I need more. I need to understand who I was… who I am.” There’s a pause, then the familiar, soft hum of her presence. Eva… some things are not meant to be known yet. The past… it is not always safe to remember fully. You have enough to stand o
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 315 – The Executioner’s Legacy
Eva’s point of view The office is quiet, sunlight falling in golden slivers across the polished wood of Paris’s desk. I sit on the couch, knees drawn slightly toward my chest, feeling the weight of anticipation pressing against my chest. Kostas, Nikos, and Kristina are around me, quiet but alert, their eyes fixed on me in ways I’ve learned to read: protective, curious, and slightly wary. Paris leans back in his chair, fingers steepled together, gaze fixed on me. “Eva… there’s a story I need to tell you. One that might explain why you are here, why they’ve begun to suspect you are the one the Alpha King is searching for.” I raise an eyebrow, silent, letting him continue. My wolf, Artemis, hums softly in my mind. I already know the story. I’ve lived it, in fragments at least. But hearing it aloud… gives it weight. “Many years ago,” Paris begins, voice steady, “ a girl was born . One girl who was unlike any other. She was an executioner. Not just in the sense of punishment, but in s
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 314 – Preparing for Fate
Eva’s point of view I step into the bright kitchen of the pack house, sunlight spilling over the table where Kristina is already sitting, looking impossibly calm. My wolf hums in my head, restless, sensing the undercurrent of preparation. I already know what’s coming. Everyone is going to show up, and I have exactly one more day to figure out what to do. “Morning, Eva,” Kristina greets me, voice soft but firm, like she’s about to deliver news with sugar and steel. “Morning,” I reply, pouring myself some tea. The warmth does nothing to calm the storm of thoughts in my head. “So… you’re going to prepare me, huh?” She tilts her head, eyes twinkling. “Something like that. I want to make sure you’re ready if… if it turns out you are the one they’re looking for. They’ve started to believe it. You need to know, to think about what that means.” I nod, sipping my tea slowly, letting the words sink in. My wolf purrs, nudging me with a subtle reminder: think carefully. Katerina bursts in,
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 313 – The Debate of Fate
Paris’s point of view The pack house is quiet now, the dinner dishes cleared and the last embers of the fireplace casting flickering shadows across the walls. I stand by the large oak table in the study, Kostas at my side, Nikos pacing with measured frustration, Alecos leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, and Mihalis seated, his expression contemplative. The subject is heavy: Eva. The girl we’ve come to protect, the one who may be the Alpha King’s mate, though she doesn’t yet know it. “She’s just a guest,” Nikos begins, his voice edged with impatience. “Why are we even discussing contacting the King? Let her live her life here undisturbed.” “Because,” I counter, leaning against the desk, fingers drumming, “if she truly is the one, hiding her could put her in danger. We cannot ignore the possibility. The King will find her, one way or another. Do we want that encounter to be chaotic? Or controlled?” Alecos shifts, his gaze steady. “Controlled means we decide when and
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 312 – Echoes in Paint
Kostas’s point of view The morning sunlight pours through the cabin window, painting stripes of gold across the floorboards. I stand by the kitchen counter, coffee in hand, eyes wandering over the small paintings Eva keeps scattered across the walls. Each one is quiet, intimate, like glimpses into a world I’ll never fully understand. Yet one catches my attention—a portrait of a man. I freeze, heart skipping a beat. The features… sharp, commanding, yet there’s something familiar. The intensity in his eyes, the curve of his jaw. My pulse hammers in my chest as realization dawns. This is him. The Alpha King. The one the packs whisper about in fear and reverence. “Nice painting,” I say casually, forcing my voice to remain steady, though my hands tremble slightly as I set my coffee down. Eva glances at it, tilting her head. “I wish I knew what I painted… or rather whom,” she says softly, almost wistfully. I swallow, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions—excitement, worry, fear. Sh
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