All Chapters of The Alpha King's Omega: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

When she woke, the world was hushed.A thick, muffled stillness blanketed the room, like the silence after a storm. Soft light filtered in through the balcony curtains, turning the air silver and cold. Freya lay motionless, cocooned in a tangle of sheets that smelled of pine, steel… and him.Ragnar.The scent clung to her skin. Her breath caught before she even opened her eyes.The ache in her body wasn’t just from the night before; it was deeper. Lingering. As though something sacred had been taken from her… or given. Her muscles throbbed with a slow, aching soreness, not from pain but from the way her limbs had curled so tightly around someone she didn’t know how to let go of.The bed was large. And empty.He was gone.Her eyes opened slowly, lashes brushing against damp skin. She blinked up at the ceiling, and for a long moment, she couldn’t move. Her body refused to rise. Not because of weakness, but because she was afraid.Afraid that if she moved, she’d lose the fragile remnants

When Freya stirred again, the warmth was no longer wrapped around her.Not absent.Transformed.She had slept again because she still felt the thrum of faint heat, and the bed smelled like him, which helped her sleep again.A quieter heat pulsed beneath her skin now, no longer consuming, but persistent. Like the echo of a fire that had roared through the night and left behind glowing embers lodged in her very bones. Her muscles ached as if she’d crossed a battlefield barefoot and blindfolded. Her soul felt… reshaped. Marked. Branded in places no hand had touched.She blinked slowly into the dim chamber, the curtains drawn tight against the dawn. But she knew, without needing to pull them open, that morning had come.And that he was no longer beside her. Because at night she had felt his presence beside her again, but Ragnar had left.And that the woman lying in this bed was not the same one who had drowned in fire and heat the night before.Her fingers curled instinctively, reaching b

The stone corridors stretched before her like the hollowed ribs of a beast. Each step Freya took echoed too loudly, as though the walls were listening... no, watching. The cold floor bit at her bare soles, grounding her in a body that no longer felt entirely hers.She'd walked these halls before, countless times. But now, they loomed strange and distant, their familiarity stripped away like a shed skin.Like she had been stripped away."You are almost ready."The words didn't echo in memory. They thrummed through her spine like a second heartbeat, low, velvety, ancient. The voice did not belong to anyone she knew, and yet it curled around her bones like it had always been there, waiting.Freya faltered mid-step. Her hand shot out, pressing against the cold stone for balance. For reality. The world tilted, only slightly, a blink in time, but it was enough.Enough to know something was shifting.You’re not alone in here anymore, are you?The thought didn’t come from her. But it did. It

The chamber felt smaller that night, not because the stone walls had shifted, but because Ragnar stood in the center, unmoving, a dark sentinel. His broad shoulders blocked the firelight, his folded arms forming an unyielding barrier. Shadows stretched long and deep behind him, swallowing the farthest corners and filling the air with the silent weight of command. The room even smelled of him, rich, warm, and intoxicating, as though the space itself had taken him in.“You’re not sleeping alone,” he said, his voice low, each syllable cut from something harder than stone.Freya stilled, the inevitability of the confrontation curling in her chest. “I’m fine.”“No.” The word came quickly, unhesitating, a wall she could not scale. “You’re not.”His gaze was more than observation; it was excavation. The kind of look that could strip the skin from thought, peel open the ribs, and search for truths best left buried. He was reading her, hunting the shift beneath her skin, the shadow that had be

The first thing Ragnar noticed was her stillness.Freya lay cradled in his arms, unmoving, her breath too shallow, her skin almost colorless beneath the dim, fractured light spilling from the high window. The talisman clasped around her arm, his safeguard, his precaution, pulsed with a dull, sinister rhythm, the silver runes crawling under her skin like molten threads seeking something to consume.It wasn’t merely restraining her. It was fighting her.His hand lifted almost on instinct, knuckles brushing against her cheek.Cold. Far too cold.Her lashes fluttered, slow and heavy, before parting, and the moment their eyes met, the world shifted.These were not Freya’s eyes.Not the storm-green depths that had learned to meet his with defiance or quiet fire. No, these were piercing, crystalline, glacial blue, so vivid they seemed to drink the air from his lungs. The eyes he had just seen before she fell asleep. He thought he was hallucinating, but that wasn't the case. The same eyes he