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The Dream and the Dead
Huling Na-update:
2025-05-07 17:25:47Chapter 6:
Theo – POV I lie on my bed, begging sleep to take me. The last few months have been hell, and my head feels ready to split open. Finally, exhaustion wins. I drift into dreams. And find myself standing in a white bedroom. The room is massive but stark—just a wall-mounted TV, a large bed centered between two nightstands, and mirrored built-in closets. Even the curtains are snow white. Then I hear it. Moans. I turn toward the bed—and freeze. Two women are tangled in the sheets. A redhead lies between the legs of a blonde, who’s arched back against the pillows. Her grey eyes are half-lidded, her full, cherry lips parting in soft gasps of pleasure. She’s breathtaking. My cock twitches at the sight, heat coiling low in my gut. I take a step closer. I want to be the redhead. Hell, I want to take them both. But her—the blonde—I need her. Her small breasts rise with each breath, her nipples hard beneath the redhead’s hands. My own hand slides down, stroking my erection slowly as I watch. She moans louder, trembling. “Come for me, baby,” the redhead whispers. And then it happens. The blonde’s eyes snap open—locking onto mine. My breath catches. My hand freezes. She sees me. “Theo… yes… I’m coming!” she cries out. I jolt awake, heart hammering. “What the actual fuck?” The dream felt real. Too real. I press my palm to my chest, trying to steady my breath, my body still thrumming with arousal and confusion. Before I can think, there’s a knock at the door. I rake a hand through my hair. “Come in.” Parker steps inside. Tall, fit, maybe twenty-four. Short blond hair, tanned skin, always composed—but not today. His brown eyes are stormy. He bows stiffly. “My king… you need to come to the kitchen. We have a problem.” My brows knit. He never uses titles in private. “Parker,” I say firmly. “You’re my beta, yeah—but before that, my best friend. What the hell happened?” He doesn’t meet my eyes. His voice is a whisper. “Theo… someone broke in. He killed an omega. In our kitchen. While we slept.” He finally looks up—eyes glassy with shame. “I couldn’t protect you. Not even in your own home.” A chill shoots down my spine. My blood turns to ice. Then rage sets in. I shove past him. “No time for guilt. Move. We’re fixing this now—before rumors start about how weak we are.” I charge down to the first floor. The staff are already gathering near the dining room, faces pale, eyes wide. They bow as I pass, but fear lingers. Good. Fear sharpens loyalty. I push into the kitchen. Two guards flank the entrance, stiff and pale. Inside, it’s chaos. To the left, near the walk-in fridges, two cooks sob in each other’s arms. To the right, three of my top detectives are arguing in hushed tones. The air reeks of blood and panic. Then I see her. A young girl—barely out of childhood—lies naked on the center counter. Wrists and ankles bound. Skin pale, lifeless. And carved into her stomach, from hip to chest, one word: WHORE. My stomach lurches. I’ve seen death. I’ve killed in battle. But this… this is evil. My doctor stands beside the girl, quietly taking samples. His face is ashen. One of the detectives steps forward. “My king… we’ve got nothing. No scent, no tracks. We tried everything.” His jaw clenches. “We need help.” I force my voice steady. “What’s her name?” One of the cooks answers without looking up. “Milena, my king.” I nod once. “Return her to her family. Give her a proper burial. Full compensation. Grief counseling. I want it done today.” “Yes, my king.” I turn to my detectives. “You three, with me.” Then, to the staff: “You’ll prep meals in the summer kitchen. Guards will transfer food to the dining area. This kitchen stays closed until it’s been cleansed.” No hesitation. No mercy. Someone brought death into my home. And they’re going to bleed for it.
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The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 43 – The Girl Behind the Glass
Lily’s pov The walls are white. Always white. They say white is the color of peace, of purity. But to me, it’s the color of emptiness. I’ve been in this room for as long as I can remember. Father says I’m sick. That going outside would kill me. He says I was born fragile, different, delicate. The air out there would poison my lungs. The sun would burn my skin. The world… would destroy me. He only wants to keep me safe. Still, I press my forehead to the window glass and watch the trees swaying in the wind. Just beyond the garden wall, the forest looms like a secret I’m not allowed to know. I wonder what the wind feels like. I wonder what freedom feels like. I imagine stepping outside barefoot, toes in the dirt, arms stretched wide. Would the sky fall on me? Would the trees whisper my name? He says the world forgot me. That even she forgot me. My mother. She left. Took Carol with her. Didn’t even look back. I was too sick, too much of a burden. He said she only wanted the strong
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 42 – The Girl in the Garden
Carol’s POV The walls of my room are painted soft pink, like the sky just before sunrise. They used to comfort me. Now, they just feel… dull. Lifeless. A color that promises warmth but never quite delivers. The scent of roses wafts in from the vase on my desk, a fresh bouquet Father insists on replacing every week. I used to love that smell. Now, it makes my stomach twist. I sit on my bed, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped around Dove—the worn stuffed bunny I’ve had since childhood. I named her myself. Back when things were clearer. Back when I thought the world made sense. Mom gave her to me. No—not Mom. That woman. I shake my head. No. That’s not right either. Father said she abandoned us. Took Lily and vanished. Said she couldn’t bear the weight of raising two daughters, and I was too weak for her liking. He said I should be grateful. That he saved me. But if that’s true… why does my chest ache every time I think of her? Why does her lullaby still echo in the back of my
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 41 – Beneath the Stone
Unknown Figure – POV The old oak door groans as I descend the final stone steps. The scent of damp stone and rot rises to greet me like an old friend. I inhale—not for pleasure, but for control. Down here, there are no lies, no masks, no titles or politics. Only stone, secrets… and her. The torches lining the corridor flicker as if recognizing my presence, casting long shadows along the damp walls. The flames bow in silence, just like everyone else should have. My boots echo with each deliberate step, a rhythm of inevitability. She doesn’t look up—not at first. She never does. She sits just as she always has: ankles crossed, back straight, a mockery of grace. As if she still holds dignity. A fool’s delusion. “I see the rats haven’t eaten you yet,” I murmur, voice flat, emotionless. “A shame. I had such high hopes for them this week.” Her head lifts, slowly. Her hair is tangled, wild, a mess that speaks of years stolen. But her eyes—those cursed eyes—remain unchanged. Defiant. B
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 40 – The Tomb of Judgment
Eva POVSonia’s fingers tighten around mine as we rise from the pool’s edge. The forest is still, holding its breath. The relic hums faintly in her pocket like a heartbeat beneath the surface.She glances back at the water. “That place… that field… was it real?”“As real as this,” I say. “The truth shows itself when we’re ready to carry it.”I step into the shallow water, guiding her with me. The surface parts again beneath our feet—not through magic, but memory. A stone beneath the center of the pool shifts at my touch, revealing a spiral staircase descending into the earth. Cool air rushes up to greet us.“This way,” I say.We descend in silence. The deeper we go, the more ancient the air becomes. The tunnel is carved from living rock, the roots above forming veins through the ceiling. This place was built long before palaces, long before thrones. This is where executioners are born—not of blood, but of balance.At the bottom, we reach a massive iron door—its surface carved with run
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 39 – The Beginning of Truth
Eva’s POV The morning air is cool as I step through the threshold of Sonia’s room. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm still wrapped in bandages, the wound from the rogues healing slowly. Her gaze lifts to mine, no longer full of hatred—only uncertainty. “Are you ready?” I ask. She nods, hesitating only briefly before taking my hand. The bond between us is still forming, delicate but undeniable. Without a word, I guide her through the corridors of the palace, beyond the guards, the gates, the eyes that watch. We walk in silence through the trees, the ground soft beneath our feet. Birds don’t sing here. This path is too old, too sacred. Eventually, we reach the heart of the forest—a clearing surrounded by ancient stones carved with symbols even I don’t fully understand. In the center lies a small, shallow pool, its water still as glass. I sit on the edge, motion for Sonia to do the same. She looks around. “Where are we?” “This is where I was born,” I answer. “Not from f
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 38 – Threads of Memory
Eva The morning sun breaks through the canopy as I make my way toward the infirmary. The forest is quiet, thick with dew and silence, but inside me, everything is taut. Sonia has been recovering for days now. Her body is strong, but what she faced—what we faced—cut deeper than teeth or claws. Deeper than prophecy. We are bonded now. Not just by blood spilled, but by something older. Something heavier. I stop at her door. Her scent has changed—muted, cautious. Still laced with pain, but quieter now. Grounded. I don’t knock. I never do. She’s sitting halfway up in bed, blanket drawn over her legs, staring out the window as if the trees might answer her questions. She doesn’t look at me when I enter. “I said I’d come,” I tell her. She shrugs without turning. “Didn’t think you’d remember.” “I remember everything.” I cross the room and sit beside her. Neither of us speaks. The silence stretches between us, not tense—just full. Sonia feels different today. Not physically—her wound
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 37 – Scar Tissue
Sonia The pain is the first thing I feel. Deep. Pulsing. Like knives sewing my skin back together, one jagged stitch at a time. My body aches. My head feels like it’s filled with smoke, thick and dizzying. But I’m alive. I open my eyes slowly, blinking against the muted light streaming in through gauzy curtains. The room smells faintly of herbs—lavender, sage—and something sharper. Antiseptic. Blood. Not mine. The bed is soft. Clean sheets. A folded blanket across my legs. I’m in a room I don’t recognize. Not a dungeon. Not a cell. A real room. Warm. Safe. A thick bandage wraps my side, stained faintly with red. My shoulder’s been stitched. The claw marks down my thigh are crusted with salve, already healing—too slowly for a werewolf, but just fast enough to keep death at bay. Executioners heal like werewolves… but it still hurts like hell. I shift slightly, wincing. My ribs protest the movement. Every nerve screams. Then I hear it. Footsteps. Soft. Controlled. Not rushed
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 36 – Tethered by Blood
SONIA pov I didn’t get far. The bleeding started slow. A sharp sting in my ribs. Then the burn set in—a cruel, steady fire spreading through my side. I pressed a hand to my shirt and felt the wetness: blood, too much of it. My own. I collapse against a tree, gasping for air. My fingers tremble. Not because I’m afraid—but because I understand now. I stabbed Eva. And somehow… I’m bleeding like she is. An executioner’s curse. I curl on the forest floor, trying to remember what my mother said. The pain you inflict on an executioner marks you. It becomes yours to carry. I thought it was superstition. A myth whispered to scare children. But it’s real. The healing isn’t coming like it should. I’m a werewolf—I should have been fine by now. But the wound keeps pulsing, keeps leaking, keeps hurting. My heartbeat is wild, too loud, too fast. I’m going to die out here. Then I hear it. Twigs cracking. One step. Two. Then more. Surrounding me. Five scents hit me at once—sharp, filthy
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 35 – The First Cut
Sonia’s POV It’s been a month since the execution. A month since Theo saved her. A month of silence, of watching her from the shadows, trying to understand what makes her real. Because she can’t be. No one that deadly, that empty, that terrifying… could be real. But I’ve seen her smile. I’ve seen her let Theo touch her. I’ve even seen her laugh once. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was there, flickering at the edges like a ghost of something she didn’t know how to feel. Still, my mother’s voice haunts me. She’s not what she seems, Sonia. The black heart will burn if it touches light. That’s what she said before she died protecting me. Or cursing me—I can’t tell anymore. She believed in some old prophecy, some doomed fate I was born into, tied to a monster made of shadow. But Eva doesn’t feel like a monster. She feels like a question mark. And I can’t live with questions anymore. I need an answer—even if it’s bloody. I wait until the training grounds are empty. I’ve watched her
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