All Chapters of My One-Night-Stand Alpha: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

(Almira’s POV) I don’t trust her smile. Not the one she gave my daughter when she asked if she liked painting, her voice all syrup and false warmth. Not the one she flashed at Asher when she offered him cookies she hadn’t even baked herself, pretending to care. And now, after what Mid told me… it all makes sense. She’s watching them. Not like children—but like riddles she’s desperate to solve. Every glance, every question, it’s calculated. Measured. Like she’s gathering data. I pace by the window, arms folded, eyes locked on the backyard. The kids are playing, completely unaware. So innocent. So normal. Asher’s shadow dances at his feet as he laughs, his joy loud and unfiltered. Hazel’s kneeling on the stones, drawing suns and hearts in chalk, her hair catching the light like strands of gold. 

(Reginald’s POV)I slam the crystal tumbler down onto the desk. Whiskey sloshes over the rim and soaks into a pile of reports I’ve already read twice. Nothing in them helps me. Just more useless updates from spies, empty words from the council, and—worst of all—nothing about how to control the damn twins.They’re under my roof, eating my food, breathing my air. But I can’t touch them. Can’t use them. Can’t even speak freely around them without Almira sniffing out my intentions.She ruined everything.She stormed in like some returning hero, claiming motherhood and moral high ground like a prize. The pack flocked to her like sheep. Even Mid—my Beta—has started tiptoeing around her like she owns the damn place.I stand up, pacing across the room. My heels echo off the marble floor, loud and angry.The children—Asher and Hazel—are something different. My Beta confirmed it. Hazel nearly melted through a silver pot in the kitchen, and Asher? He looked at one of the patrol guards, and the g

(Rachelle's POV)Hazel is quiet the rest of the visit, but she doesn’t push me away.She watches. Listens. And when I say I should get going, she stands and walks me to the door."Will you come back tomorrow?" she asks, her voice feather-light, almost fragile.I blink, surprised. “If you’d like me to.”She nods slowly. “I think I would.”And just like that, I win a sliver of trust. Or so I think.Or so I believe.The next day, I return with more treats—berry tarts this time, and a little charm I enchanted myself, something subtle. A protection token. Fake, of course, but believable enough for a child.Hazel accepts it without a word. But when I sit across from her, I notice something... off.She’s smiling.It’s small. Barely there. But it’s a real smile. And it’s not for me—it’s for herself.“Do you like ridd

(Rachelle’s POV)Later that eveningThe night is soft and heavy with the scent of pine and late-blooming jasmine. The wind hums outside my window, stirring the curtains like a lullaby. It should be calming.But I’m wired.Because they didn’t push me away today.Hazel didn’t glare as hard. Asher actually asked me a question. It was small, meaningless to someone who doesn’t know what to listen for—but to me? It was everything.“Can you do magic too?”A casual question from a curious boy, sure. But it meant he was wondering. Wondering if he could learn something from me. Wondering if I had answers that no one else had given him. And most of all—if I was different from the grown-ups who only saw his power as something to control.That’s how it starts.It always starts with wonder.Hazel, though… Hazel is different.She’s the hard one. Not

(Almira’s POV)The night smelled of blood.Not wolf blood. Not human either.Magic.Ancient. Rotted. Old as the bones buried beneath this cursed land.I crouched low against the balcony stone, my hand wrapped tightly around the dagger hilt strapped to my thigh. The wind tore at my cloak as voices rose below — one I knew like the rhythm of my own breath.Lysander.And the other?Sweet. Sultry. Pretending to purr even now, even with the scent of death hanging in the air.Rachelle.I should’ve known. I *did* know. Every inch of my body had screamed it from the moment she looked at Hazel and Asher like they were keys instead of children. But I needed proof. Not just instinct. Not just rage.And tonight, I had it.I watched them through the cracked marble archway. Lysander stood stiffly, shoulders taut, his silver blade slick with fresh blood — not his own. The scent was still risi