All Chapters of Blind Alpha And His Unwanted Mate: Chapter 501 - Chapter 510

AuroraLast night with Dad stays with me in a way I did not expect. Nothing about him changes on the surface. Same posture. Same clipped tone. Same way of looking at me like he is measuring something invisible. And yet, there is something else threaded through it. Something quiet. I realize it now when I have started seeing Dad in a different light.All my life, I thought disappointing him was my greatest failure. I kept trying not to, and somehow kept doing it anyway. I followed his rules because I thought obedience was the same thing as loyalty. I mistook silence for strength. What I never understood was that he did not want me small and agreeable. He wanted me sharp. Visible. Unmovable when it mattered.The irony sits heavy. I never cared what others thought of me. Their opinions slid off easily. But his reactions always lodged somewhere deep, even when I pretended not to notice. The disappointment in his eyes was never loud. It was subtle. A flicker that vanished too fast to chall

AuroraRestless does not even begin to cover it.I stand near one of the tall windows, fingers curled around the stem of a glass I have not touched in minutes, and something under my skin refuses to quiet down. My mark burns in a slow pulse, not painful, just insistent.It draws my attention again and again, a quiet tug that makes it hard to focus on anything else.I shift my weight, then shift again.Nothing helps.I do a quick scan of the room, the way I always do without thinking. Old money smiles, polished laughter, bodies angled just enough to show interest without revealing too much. I register who is watching whom, who leans in closer, who checks their phone when they think no one notices. It is automatic. A habit built from years of being told to observe before reacting.Still, the pulse does not stop.I do not know why it is happening, and that bothers me more than the sensation itself. I have questions lined up in my head, but no one to direct them at. My wolf side is restle

AuroraEach step he takes feels like something clicking into place. The room shifts around him. Conversations lose their rhythm. Glasses pause halfway to lips. Someone laughs too loud and then stops. I catch all of it because my mind does that thing where it notices too much at once. Lucas has that kind of presence that bends attention without trying. The kind that makes rooms rearrange themselves around him. It would take a miracle for him to walk in somewhere and not pull every gaze his way.Mine.The thought hits me fast and unapologetic. A tight, possessive warmth wraps around my chest, not painful, just insistent. I watch the way his shoulders move beneath his suit jacket, how his gaze stays forward even when he knows people are staring. He does not scan the room. He does not look impressed or curious. He walks like he already knows what is about to happen next, already sure of the next move... sure of himself.The Russells stiffen first. Mr. Russells shoulders draw back a touch,

AuroraThe aura coming off Lucas is something I have never felt before.It presses into the space around him quietly, like the room itself has decided to lean away.There is something so dangerous about him... something you can't pinpoint at, yet you can feel it in your bones.The woman is still talking when he reaches them.She is halfway through another sentence, lips pursed with that familiar mix of pity and superiority, when she notices him. Her words die mid-breath. It is almost comical, the way her confidence evaporates. Her eyes flick to his face, then past him, as if searching for backup that does not exist.Lucas smiles.It is polite. Perfectly shaped. Empty.The kind of smile that makes your stomach drop before your mind catches up. There is no warmth in it, not even a trace. Just restraint sharpened to an edge.“The woman you are talking about,” he says, voice even and clear, “is my woman.”Every sound in the room thins out. Conversations stall. Someone behind me clears the

LucasThe first thing that hits me when I enter Arthur’s office is the smell of smoke. Thick. Bitter. It sits in the room like it belongs here. Arthur takes another pull from his cigar and exhales slowly, eyes never leaving me as I cross the threshold. He looks exactly as he always does when he wants control. Relaxed posture. Sharp attention.The door closes behind me with a quiet finality. No echo. No drama. Just a sound that tells me this conversation is meant to stay contained.Arthur gestures toward the empty chair in front of his desk. I sit, my movements calm, my focus already dissecting the room. The bookshelf behind him. The way his fingers rest near the ashtray. The faint tension in his jaw that suggests he is expecting resistance.“So,” I say, skipping any pretense, “what is going on?”He does not answer right away. He watches me instead, like he is deciding which version of the truth to offer.“Arthur,” I continue, keeping my voice even, “I need to know everything. This is