All Chapters of The Alpha King's Hated Mate : Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

I staggered to my feet, blood pouring from a gash across my ribs, my vision swimming. But I didn’t care. He tried to take her. He almost took her. And now… now, he was going to die. Loki’s pale face twisted in irritation as he watched the space where Matteo had disappeared with Raven. His lips parted, a growl curling up from deep in his throat — and then he took a step forward. “No,” I barked, stepping between him and the trail again. “You’re not touching her.” His eyes flashed crimson. “You can’t stop what’s been set in motion. She’s mine. She was always mine.” “You keep saying that,” I snarled. “But guess what?” “You’re not fighting just me anymore.” I let go. I gave in. And Dario took over. *** Dario All I saw was red. The scent of her still lingered, staining the air like poison. Raven. Our mate. Hurt. And this moving corpse was trying to claim her as his. UNACCEPTABLE. I let out a guttural snarl that shook the trees, then launched myself at the leech. Loki bare

I didn’t sleep.Couldn’t.How could I, when Raven lay there unmoving, her skin cold and too pale for someone so full of fire?The moon had shifted across the sky by now, shadows crawling across the floor in long fingers. The rhythmic beeping of the machines was the only sound, the only sign she was still tethered to this world.I sat by her side, elbows on my knees, hands clasped together so tight the bones ached. Every so often, I reached out just to touch her — to convince myself she was still here. Still breathing.But it wasn’t enough.Not nearly enough.Her scent — once wild and full of heat — was faint now, dulled by whatever this was and the sterile hospital sheets.My stomach twisted.I couldn’t just sit here.Not when I had another option.I stood slowly, pacing to the window as my thoughts churned.She was my mate. The bond between us wasn’t just symbolic — it was ancient. Sacred. Lifeblood.And if the healers couldn’t pull her back… maybe I could.My blood could heal her.T

Morning came like a cruel trick.The sun bled through the windows in warm, golden streams, painting the floor in light—but none of it touched her. Raven still lay in the hospital bed unmoving. Unbreathing.No—she was breathing. I kept telling myself that. The machines said so. The soft rise and fall of her chest said so. But it didn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like her.I stood by her side, hands fisted at my sides as the doctor checked her vitals again. His brow furrowed. His fingers were shaking slightly as he adjusted the IV.“She’s getting better,” he said, glancing up at me.My eyes snapped to his. “Then why the fuck isn’t she waking up?”The doctor swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know. Her vitals are improving—heart rate, oxygen levels, neural activity—they’re all stabilizing. But she’s still cold. Too cold. Like her body’s rejecting warmth. And I can’t explain it.”I stared down at her, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. She looked peaceful now, almost too peaceful. Like the calm be

The hallway was chaos. Screams, panicked footsteps, and a blur of white coats as nurses rushed past me, barely registering my presence.“Matteo!” I shouted over the noise, turning toward the stairwell.Then I saw him—my Beta, storming down the corridor, his face grave, skin pale. Blood speckled his shirt. Not his.“Your Majesty,” he said, breathless. “You need to come with me.”“What’s going on?” I demanded, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.“It’s Loki,” he said darkly, glancing around. “There’s been… deaths. Multiple. Last night. We didn’t even hear it—he made sure of that.”I froze, cold crawling down my spine.“What?”“He hit several packs at once. Coordinated. Brutal. It’s spreading fear. People are calling it a massacre. Again.”My heart dropped. A weight like stone pressed against my chest.“How many?” I asked, voice low and sharp.“Too many,” he said. “Come.”I followed Matteo down the hall, my feet heavy but fast. Each step fueled by a rising tide of fury and helples

I was about to turn back—toward the carnage, toward the endless cries of the wounded—when I heard footsteps behind me.Heavy. Hesitant. Familiar.Dante.I didn’t face him. Not yet. My jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. My lungs dragged in a deep breath as the trees swayed above us in silent judgment.Then I heard it."I'm sorry," he whispered.I turned slowly.He looked like he’d seen a ghost. No—worse. Like he was one. His face was ashen, lips trembling. His eyes were wide, rimmed with red, like he’d been trying not to cry for hours and failing miserably.“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”I took a step toward him, my eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?”He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed hard. Looked down at his hands as if they were stained with something he couldn’t wash off.“I was trying to tell you,” he said hoarsely. “Back in the hospital. Before… before all this.”My heartbeat slammed harder.