The Alpha King's Hated Mate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

We stepped into the sorceress’s territory, and despite the chill in the air and the weight of everything pressing down on us, Xander’s grip on my hand remained firm. Steady. Like I was the only anchor he had to sanity. And even though he was under a spell, he still chose me. Not Matteo. Not Adriana. Me. That thought alone was enough to ignite something warm and wild inside me. Still, my nerves were dancing under my skin as we approached the cottage. This place wasn’t evil. I could feel it. But there was power here. Ancient and quiet—like something that had seen too much. I expected darkness. Cobwebs. Bones hanging from the ceiling and bubbling cauldrons filled with the essence of tortured souls. Instead, I stepped into… beauty. The sorceress’s house was unlike anything I could’ve imagined. Sunlight streamed through arched windows draped with lacey curtains, casting warm glows on the polished wooden floors. The air smelled of lavender and rosemary, sweet and clean. Shelves lined t

"What truth?" I asked, heart pounding.The words had barely left my mouth before my mind began racing. The way Xander had looked at me—like his soul was fraying at the edges—wasn’t something I could ignore. This wasn’t just another one of his brooding moments. No. This was something deeper. Something real. And it terrified me.He turned away from me again, dragging a hand over his face like the confession clawed at his skin. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. The wind had stilled, the forest frozen in anticipation."I spent years," he started, his voice low, gravel-rough with restraint, "hating the wrong person."I blinked.He turned slowly to face me again. His eyes—gods, those eyes—were more human than I’d ever seen them. Stripped of power, of pride, of his walls. What was left was pain."That night," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "the massacre... I blamed your mother. I swore it was her. I made myself believe it. Because hating her was easier than dealing with the truth."My

The neighborhood was quiet.Too quiet.As Xander pulled the car onto a narrow street lined with faded picket fences and sleepy-looking houses, I pressed my nose to the glass, squinting at the numbers on each door."Are you sure this is the place?" I asked, scanning the row of homes. The trees were tall here, casting lazy shadows on the pavement, and the only sound was the wind rustling through their branches.Xander checked the folded paper in his hand and nodded. “Yes. This is it.”We parked in front of a small, pale blue house nestled at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was modest, with a garden overgrown with ivy and a single windchime dangling from the porch roof, clinking softly in the breeze.It didn’t look like the kind of place where secrets lived.But I’d learned by now—secrets don't need a castle. Sometimes, it hides in places just like this.We stepped out of the car together. Xander reached for my hand, and I gave it willingly, letting him thread our fingers together as we wa

Family.That one word kept ringing in my head like a curse without cure. Family. I didn't know how to feel about that or what to think.Raven was sitting beside me in the passenger seat looking lost in her thoughts just like me.“Who do you think could be behind it?" She finally asked as she turned to me.If I say I had an answer to that I'd be lying because who…which of my family members that was still alive that could have been responsible for what happened that night.My uncle? Of course not. That night took his wife—his mate and beloved and he almost died.Nothing made sense. My mother lost almost all her family that night and the ones that survived only showed their faces when necessary so in reality Dante and my uncle Marcos were the only family I had left. Then who could it be? Does she consider one of the council people as family? Could it be what she meant? Or does she mean someone very close to me?“I don't know Raven. I don't know—I was so young back then and hadn't even

I felt overwhelmed with feelings. I seriously didn't know how to feel. Whether to cry or just scream to remove the ache that never seemed to leave my chest. I had always known they were innocent. I had always known that they had been killed unjustly. My mother would never hurt anyone. Not intentionally. But what breaks my heart now, what really shatters me from the inside out, is that after so many years of being spat on, cast aside, labeled the traitor's daughter—it's finally confirmed. She was innocent. But it's too late. They're dead. Killed for something they knew nothing about. Buried with lies they never had the chance to clear. I sighed, long and slow, pushing my room door open and stepping inside. The moment the door shut behind me, I leaned against it, letting the cool wood press against my back. There was this burning in my chest—an ache that throbbed with every breath. It wouldn’t go away. Not until I found whoever orchestrated that bloodbath and pinned it on my mother