Semua Bab Alpha’s Claimed Mate: Bab 81 - Bab 90

POV: Vivianne. The city lights glowed dimly through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting pale gold shadows across the sleek hardwood floor. Vivianne stood barefoot in the center of the living room, her hand gripping the edge of the marble kitchen island, the other cradling the underside of her belly. The contractions were coming faster now—each one a wave threatening to pull her under.She exhaled shakily, forehead pressed to the cool surface of the counter. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. She had turned off the music hours ago. The air smelled faintly of lavender and lemon cleaner—sterile, wrong somehow.“Julian,” she whispered into the silence. Her voice was hoarse, a thread pulled too tightly.A pain gripped her again, sharper this time, and she cried out, knees buckling slightly. She caught herself on the island, biting her lip. Her phone lay on the couch across the room, glowing softly with missed messages, none from him. She hadn’t expected them. Not anymore.But still, sh

**Flashback Scene – Parking Lot, One Day Ago.**The late afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the nearly empty parking lot behind the community center. Dalia’s laugh echoed as she nudged Jayke’s arm, a paper cup of coffee in her other hand.“You always get the worst takes,” she teased, brushing her curls out of her eyes. “I mean, pineapple on pizza? Really?”Jayke grinned, reaching for her coffee. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”But the smile froze on his face as he caught a flicker of movement near the corner of the lot. A black SUV, engine still humming, sat idling by the far fence. Two men stepped out. One was tall, thick-shouldered, his face half-obscured by a baseball cap. The other moved with a precision that made Jayke’s stomach drop.“Dalia,” he murmured, stepping in front of her. “Get back inside. Now.”“What—?”The taller man moved fast. Too fast. Jayke barely registered the glint of metal before the first blow landed, hard against his ribs. He shoved Dalia

POV: Dalia Wellessley. The air was damp in the stone-walled chamber beneath the manor, thick with mildew and the faint stench of blood. A single lightbulb swung from the ceiling, casting erratic shadows that twitched like ghosts on the walls. Dalia hung by her wrists from iron chains bolted into the ceiling, her arms numb, lips cracked, blood crusted beneath her nose. But it was not the pain that undid her—it was the sound of Aiden’s voice.He stood before her, suit pristine, hands clasped behind his back like a man addressing a class of schoolchildren rather than a prisoner. His smile was slight, carved with precision.“I thought you’d want to know,” he said smoothly, as if delivering a weather report. “Jayke bled out two nights ago. The bullet nicked the brachial artery. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance. Took him a while to die.”Dalia’s breath caught. Her head lolled forward at first, her matted hair veiling her expression. A quiet, broken sound slipped from her throat.“Liar,” sh

POV: Vivianne. The café was tucked into a quiet Brooklyn side street, somewhere between old brownstones and gentrified wine bars. The kind of place no one paid attention to unless they were looking for it. Vivianne arrived five minutes early, as always, dressed in soft gray wool and sunglasses she didn’t need after sunset.She slid into the booth without ordering. She didn’t have to. The server recognized her from previous visits and brought her a black tea, unsweetened. She didn’t thank him.A few minutes later, a man stepped in. Late thirties, tall, sharp-jawed. His coat was too plain for his posture, and he didn’t bother scanning the room. He walked straight to her table and sat down.“Vivianne,” he said, voice low.“Micah.”Micah St. Clair hadn’t been seen at family events in years. No one spoke of why he left. But Vivianne knew. He was smart—too smart for the backroom power plays and never quite wolf enough for the old guard. Still, he had a presence. And more importantly, he ow

POV: Ember. The night was still, the kind of quiet that presses against the windows like a warning. A soft drizzle had started sometime after midnight, misting the grounds around the big house and turning the trees into pale silhouettes.Ember stirred in bed first, her hand reaching instinctively toward Asher’s side.Empty.Her eyes snapped open."Asher?" she whispered into the darkness, expecting a groggy reply or the sound of water running from the bathroom. But the house was silent. Too silent.She threw off the covers and padded barefoot down the hall, past Caelen’s room—where she paused, heart catching until she heard the soft rhythm of their child’s breathing. She glanced in. Caelen was tucked in safely, one chubby hand curled under his cheek.But Asher was nowhere.It wasn’t the first time.Not even the second if Ember was being honest with herself. But this felt different. The air itself carried a charge, like the sky just before lightning breaks.****POV: Asher. Asher move