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Chapter 291 — A Taste of Belonging
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2025-08-04 14:49:36
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The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 293 — A Warrior’s Promise
Eva’s Point of View The waves call me. After lunch, with my belly full and my heart heavier than I expected, I slip away from the house. The laughter still echoes behind me—Katerina bickering with Kostas, Paris’s low voice, Maria humming as she clears the table. I need the sea. I need silence. The path is familiar now. Olive branches sway above me as I walk down toward the dunes, sandals in hand, toes curling into the warm earth. The beach opens up before me like a memory I never lived—a stretch of soft white sand, water shimmering silver-blue under the summer sun. I sit at the edge, where sand meets sea, and hug my knees to my chest. The wind tangles my hair. My eyes close. Then a voice breaks the stillness. “You always vanish after meals, or is this just a dramatic habit of yours?” I glance up. Kostas. He drops down beside me, a little too close, brushing sand off his pants with a sigh. He’s carrying a peach in one hand and offers it to me. “No pressure. I stole it from Mar
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 292 — A Seat at the Table
Eva’s Point of View I follow the others into the dining room, still clutching the edge of my napkin like a lifeline. The warmth of the kitchen fades into something quieter here—more formal, more arranged. Two long wooden tables stretch across the room. One is already bustling with chatter—the omegas I just cooked with are slipping into their seats, sharing quiet jokes, passing bowls between them with practiced ease. That’s where I move first. Naturally. I head toward the empty seat at the end of the omega table, but before I can sit, Maria appears beside me with a firm but kind smile. “Oh no, no, not there, kori mou,” she says, placing a gentle hand on my back. “This way.” I blink. “I can sit there, it’s okay—” She cuts me off with a soft laugh. “You can, yes. But you shouldn’t.” Confused, I let her guide me to the larger, more open table across the room. It’s still mostly empty, but the chairs are sturdier, polished, spaced more widely. I hesitate. Maria leans in, h
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 291 — A Taste of Belonging
Eva’s Point of View The sea breeze carries the scent of thyme and salt as I leave the little cabin behind, letting the door click softly shut behind me. Artemis’s words still echo in my mind: “You don’t need to give much. A smile, a thank you, a gesture… that’s how bridges are built.” So, I walk. Past the low stone wall and down the narrow path that winds through the olive trees. Sunlight dapples the ground in golden flecks. The leaves whisper secrets above me in a language only the wind can understand. As I make my way toward the pack house, I see them. Wolves in human form, tending gardens, cleaning tools, laughing by the laundry lines. Brown skin kissed by the sun, dark curls tousled by the breeze, eyes that hold the warmth of the earth itself. They’re all so… Mediterranean. So deeply rooted. And I— I glance at my reflection in a glass window. Pale. Blonde. Eyes like storm clouds. A ghost drifting through someone else’s story. I nod politely to a few who wave. They sm
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 290 - Welcome
Paris’s Point of View The morning air still smells like sea salt and olive trees when I set down my coffee cup and give Kostas the look. He’s balancing a slice of bread on his mouth like it’s a prize and arguing with his sister over whether or not the new girl is an actual spirit or just pale from jet lag. Kristina sighs and pulls her scarf tighter around her braid. “You’re both idiots.” “Thank you,” Kostas replies, absolutely unbothered, “but some people pay for this level of charm.” I chuckle quietly. These two could make a funeral feel like a picnic. But I let the moment stretch, because I know what’s coming next. “It’s time,” I say simply, and they both freeze. “Let’s go welcome our guest.” Kristina immediately straightens, graceful as ever. Kostas stands slower, like he’s preparing for battle—or maybe a date. Hard to tell with that one. We walk through the olive grove in comfortable silence. The cabin isn’t visible from the pack house, tucked away like something o
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 289 - “Dinner Table Diplomacy”
Paris’s point of view If there’s one thing I’ve learned after all these years, it’s this: never expect peace at a dinner table full of wolves. Especially not when you’re related to most of them. The food is hot, the air smells like roasted lamb and oregano, and Kanella is already giving Nikos the “don’t you dare pick that with your fingers” look. He ignores her and does it anyway. Katerina smacks his hand. Kostas groans dramatically as if world hunger personally offended him by delaying this meal. Honestly, just another Tuesday. “Why is there parsley in this?” Kostas mutters as he pokes at his plate like the herbs are plotting against him. “Because it’s called flavor, you uncultured goat,” Katerina snaps. “I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the episode where Gordon Ramsay trained you to ruin everything green and edible.” “Keep talking and I’ll garnish you with parsley and throw you to the sea.” “Bold of you to assume the sea would take you back.” Kristina’s already giggli
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 288 - “The White Wolf”
Eva’s point of view The sea is calmer than it was this morning. The sky has softened into that gentle blue that only appears after a long walk and a short conversation with a boy I can’t quite figure out. Kostas. He didn’t pry. He didn’t flinch. I think that’s what I liked most. He didn’t try to save me. The cabin is quiet when I return, tucked between olive trees and the open beach, far from any signs of the pack. It still smells like salt and clean linen, with a faint trace of rosemary. I step inside, brush the sand from my ankles, and eat something simple—bread, cheese, an apple. It fills the space in my stomach, but not the space in my chest. I rest after. Just an hour. The silence here feels different. It’s not the silence of punishment or loneliness. It’s just… silence. A silence that lets me breathe. But there are still questions. So many questions. I sit near the window where the sunlight slants across the wooden floor, warm against my skin. I don’t say
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