Semua Bab Bound to Alpha Salvatore : Bab 51 - Bab 60

First Person's PerspectiveElenaHermione walked back and forth in the dimly lit room, her expensive dress brushing against the floor with every step. Her heels made a soft clicking sound, and her movements were fast, filled with frustration. She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her fingers dug into her skin. Her nails, painted a deep red, pressed hard into her palms as she clenched her fists. Her breathing was uneven, her lips pressed together in a firm line. Her face, usually composed and elegant, was twisted in pure anger.Ares stood near the wall, watching her with cold, expressionless eyes. He was relaxed, but his posture held an edge of danger. His arms were crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze never leaving Hermione. The dim light in the room made the shadows on his face look darker, giving him a more intimidating presence."I cannot take this anymore," Hermione said sharply, her voice filled with bitterness. "That human girl walks around this place like she o

First Person’s PerspectiveElenaI woke up suddenly.For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the big golden ceiling above me.The intricate designs glimmered faintly in the soft morning light that bled through the heavy curtains. It looked the same — grand, majestic, intimidating.But somehow, everything felt different.I felt different.My heart was beating fast, like I had been running in my dream, chased by something I couldn’t see. My breathing was shallow, almost like my own body didn’t know whether to calm down or stay alert.I turned my head slowly, looking around the vast bedroom.The crystal chandelier hung motionless above me, the velvet chairs near the fireplace sat untouched, and the silk sheets around me still smelled faintly of roses and something darker — something that reminded me of him.Salvatore.Just the thought of his name sent a complicated shiver down my spine.I sat up carefully, pulling my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly like I could somehow prot

First Person’s PerspectiveSalvatoreI was sitting on the couch with Elena again.She was smiling softly at something I said.It wasn’t a big smile, just a small one, but it was real.Fragile. Precious. Like something rare that I wanted to protect without understanding why.I didn’t know when it had become normal.Normal to have her beside me.Normal to see her smile without fear.Normal to catch myself watching her instead of the television, the fire, the view outside the windows.She had slipped into my life without force, without demands — and somehow, she had become the center of it.I handed her a glass of water, and she took it without flinching.Her fingers brushed mine for a second — a light touch, almost nothing.But I felt it.That tiny spark.That quiet awareness that burned hotter than any fire.It traveled up my arm, into my chest, settling deep inside where I couldn’t reach it — where I wouldn’t dare touch it even if I could.I was about to say something else, something

First Person’s PerspectiveHermoineI sat on my bed with an open book in front of me, pretending to read. But my eyes weren’t really looking. The words on the page didn’t make sense. They were just black lines swimming in front of me.My mind wasn’t here.It was with Salvatore.What was he doing right now? Was he with her?Elena.That omega girl.He said she was just part of the plan. That once the curse was broken, she would be gone. That she was nothing. Just a tool. A key. A thing he needed to use.But that didn’t explain the way he looked at her now.Didn’t explain why he was dressing her like a queen, taking her to council meetings, standing beside her like they were equals.That wasn’t the plan.That wasn’t what he promised me.I closed the book and leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling. My room was quiet, but my head was loud. I could hear everything—my thoughts, my doubts, my anger. They wouldn’t shut up.I had tried to do the right thing. I even made a

First Person’s Perspective PercyI didn’t know how long I stood there.My eyes were wide. My hands shook. My mouth was open, but no sound came out. My feet were rooted to the floor, and all I could see was my father—choking, falling to the ground with blood pouring out of his neck.The sword was still lodged in his throat. His hands weakly reached for it. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Only gasps… and blood.And then my eyes moved—slowly—to the man holding the sword.Ron.My husband.The man I once promised to love. The man who now stood there, drenched in my father’s blood. Breathing hard. His eyes wild like a beast cornered and desperate.I should have screamed. My heart was screaming. My soul was screaming.But before I could gather breath, his hand shot up and clamped over my mouth.“Don’t. Don’t even think about it,” he hissed.I struggled, fists pounding against his chest, legs kicking wildly. But he was stronger. Fueled by adrenaline, panic, or madness, I