Semua Bab An Alpha Queen's Rogue : Bab 41 - Bab 50

Skylar’s POVThe mirror in my room is massive—floor to ceiling, curved edges, and just the right amount of dramatic flair to reflect what I already know:I’m divine.My eyes trail down from my face to the line of my neck to the smooth curves of my body. A smile appears on my lips not because of the way my reflection stares back at me but because everything is going exactly as planned.Luther is breaking.Every rage-filled outburst and time he kicks a hole through his office walls just shows more. The more I whisper poison in his ear, the deeper the madness digs. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks I’m working for him. That I'm his loyal partner and all that bullshit.How cute.But the truth?I’m the match. The chess queen in the game. The damn scriptwriter of this tragic little play.And he? Just a well-dressed pawn who thinks he’s a king.He’ll snap soon—challenge Balthazar. Probably die in under a minute. But the distraction?That’s where the real magic happens.Lucian will see th

Madeline’s POVRuby’s sitting cross-legged on my bed, picking at the scabbed edge of her healing wound like she’s bored with life.“You know,” she says without looking at me, “you punching Lucian? Kinda hot.”I snort, lying back against my pillows. “That’s what you got from all that chaos? Not the fact that a part of me was scared that Lucian might have ripped my head off? Not the part where Claw was being turned into a pinyata? Not the fact that Elisha looked like he wanted to retire early?”She shrugs. “Please. I’ve seen worse in rogue brothels. Besides, I’ve been dying to punch him for months. You just did the honors. In front of everyone, too. Alpha command and all? That was some bitchy vibe kinda moment.”I try not to smile.Try.But it slips out anyway. A small curve of pride on my lips.Ruby eyes me. “You’re proud.”“I am not.”“You so are.”“Fine,” I roll my eyes. “Maybe a little.”She laughs, then winces and presses a palm to her side.My eyes narrow. “Still hurts?”She pulls

Madeline’s POVOnce again, I'm all alone in the woods, quite nice actually. Claw left with a grunt and a shrug, like he wasn’t just spilling his soul at the edge of a river. No dramatic exit. No heartfelt goodbye. Just turned around and walked off like everything was normal.I felt bad for him. I still do.Cause everything wasn't normal.I still can’t wrap my head around it. Ariella? His mate?There’s not enough wine in the world for that mess.So now, I’m alone in the woods. No Lucian to storm off to—because apparently, I punched him into a different personality. No Ruby to roll her eyes at me. Elisha’s probably too busy cleaning up Lucian’s broken ego to bother.Just me. And the trees. And the thick silence pressing down like a weighted blanket made of dirt and regrets.'You could try meditating,' Nrah says lazily in my mind.'Oh, sure,' I mutter aloud. 'Let me just center my chakras while the universe continues to screw me sideways.''You’re being dramatic.''I learned from the b

Claw’s POV There are worse things than being fated to your enemy’s mate.Like being caught stalking her from behind a bush like a lovesick pervert. But here I am. Like a complete dumbass.Lucian doesn’t know I’m out here. He mustn’t know. No one must know.Ariella moves through the shadows with that lethal grace of hers—back straight, eyes sharp, a dagger strapped to each thigh like sin itself. My wolf stirs the moment she appears. Not gently either. He practically beats against my ribcage like, Mate. Touch. Claim. Now.Yeah, no thanks.My fists curl.Mine.Every part of me screams it. Loud. Raw. Desperate.But she’s not mine. Not really. She belongs to Tyson—the bloodthirsty bastard who’d gladly slice my guts open just to watch me bleed.Still… I’m not here just to fantasize about her murdering me in slow, sexy motion.I’m here because I heard whispers. A spy’s leaking information. Something about south patrols and shift changes being fed directly to Balthazar’s rogues. And if anyon

Balthazar’s POVThere’s something sacred about screams echoing off stone.It's not just the sound or the music of agony reverberating through old, blood-warmed rock, but the purity of it. Pain, after all, is the only language that doesn't lie.I sit atop my throne of bones with my hands clasped loosely and my eyes half closed. The throne pulses with the same dull red glow that seeps from the ancient runes etched into the cavern walls. Runes older than the packs and also older than memory. They whisper in a tongue long lost to the surface, a lullaby of suffering and power. Of hunger.Chains clink in the darkness around me, followed by the shuffle of broken bodies. I know each sound. I’ve memorized them. There are nine wolves left alive in this chamber.Nine souls slowly being unstitched.Nine hearts bleeding into my veins.Their spirits bend under the pressure, unraveling like threadbare rope.“More,” I whisper, and the blood runes flare brighter.A cry erupts from the far corner—a fe