All Chapters of Scar; The Ugly Bride of The Alpha King: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“ There are ones who enjoy making others suffer, sadist as we call them.And then there are those.The ones who just watch you burn, doing nothing to help. And once you have given up?They come to collect the ashes. The demon.That's what they call him.” ….The air was suffocating, thick with invisible chains that seemed to pull me back with every step. My lungs screamed in protest as I sprinted through the grand, endless halls of the castle. My footing faltered, my heart lurching as I glanced down.Damn it!The sole of my shoe had split, flapping uselessly against the cold marble. I kicked them off, abandoning them in my desperation, and continued to run. My bare feet slapped against the unforgiving floor, every step echoing in the vast emptiness around me.Helpless, I skidded to a halt at a dead end, my breath ragged as I slammed my fists against the wall.What the hell is this place? A goddamn maze?My frantic eyes darted around, searching for

I groaned, my body heavy and unresponsive, as if I were waking from a dream that clung to my bones like tar. My fingers twitched, brushing against something impossibly soft—velvet, silk, something luxurious and cold. My brows furrowed as I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light. Above me, the ceiling stretched high, adorned with intricate carvings of angels. Their stone eyes seemed to follow me, their wings frozen mid-beat, as if they had been caught in a moment of divine judgment.Am I dead?The thought flitted through my mind, but the sharp ache in my body told me otherwise. Dead people don’t feel pain. Dead people don’t feel fear.And then, like a blade slicing through the haze, sunlight poured into the room as the curtains were ripped open. I flinched, throwing up a hand to shield my eyes, the sudden brightness burning into my retinas. My vision blurred, and when it cleared, I saw my hand—bandaged, pale, trembling.Wait… what?The memories came crashing back, a tida

Time had become irrelevant. Minutes, hours—they all blurred into one endless stretch of waiting. Sitting there, I couldn’t tell how long had passed. I was trapped in the prison of my own thoughts, each one clawing at my sanity.Twenty-four hours.Could he really find her in twenty-four hours?Doubt was a heavy stone in my chest, pressing against my lungs. What if he didn’t? What if he went back on his word?But no. He was the Werewolf King. His word wasn’t just law—it was ironclad. If there was one thing I knew about him, it was that he didn’t make empty promises. Whether his word brought salvation or destruction, it was always delivered.The sound of footsteps startled me out of my spiraling thoughts. My head snapped up as the door creaked open, and a group of five women entered. They were dressed in crisp maid uniforms, their hair neatly pinned back. Everything about them was polished and orderly, a sharp contrast to the chaos I felt inside.“Good evening, ma’am,” one of them said

Tick. Tick. The sound of the clock reverberated in the suffocating silence, each second a hammer against my chest. My eyes flitted to Killian. He sat, motionless yet terrifying, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack. The pen in his hand groaned in protest, his fingers a vice around it. His patience was unraveling. “Get down,” he said, his voice low, guttural—almost a growl. It wasn’t a request. It was an order. I hesitated, my gaze darting to Bane. The massive beast stood there, muscles taut, his black eyes gleaming like liquid night. “But he—” “I said get your ass down, little mouse. Now.” The words cut through me, sharp and final. My stomach twisted, and I swallowed hard. Okay. I can do this. One step at a time. I slid off the desk hesitantly, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor. Bane’s growl deepened, a rumble that vibrated through the room. His eyes never left me, the predator locked on its prey. I flinched as my dress

Killian’s POV Being the Alpha King comes with its own burdens. My authority extends beyond trivial disputes like thefts and border skirmishes—I oversee the monetary budgets of all 236 werewolf packs scattered across the world. I dictate alliances, settle wars before they even begin, and pass judgment with a single command. I don’t have time for distractions. My days are regimented, each minute accounted for. There’s no room for delays. No space for indulgences. Yet here I am. Sitting back, watching a woman kneel before me. She’s… interesting. Not in the usual way women are—cloying, desperate to claw their way into my bed for status or power. No, she’s different. I like when people cower before me, when fear drips from their trembling forms, feeding the beast within. But her? Don’t mistake her bowed head for submission. Her eyes, though lowered, hold fire. If not for her friend, Lilly, she would be glaring at me outright. My gaze drops to her hands, balled into fists