All Chapters of Fated To My Alpha Enemy: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Valentina POV His eyes sparked at my words. “That’s the difference between us, Valentina” He turned away, the door closing behind him with a cruel click. “You don’t get to choose even your fate” The silence in the room was loud as he left. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my spine straight, my hands in my lap, staring at the closed door like it might spring open any moment, like he might return as if I want him to. My cheeks still burned from where his hand had brushed it. How could someone be so composed in cruelty? So beautiful and terrifying all at once? No! Don’t go there. That’s how they win. I curled my arms around my legs and rested my chin on my knees. The collar-chain pressed against my throat when I swallowed. I couldn't cry, not because I wasn’t breaking but because tears would make me feel like the little girl I used to be and she died a long time ago, that part of me is buried. She died the night my parents were slaughtered. I closed my eyes. The image was blu

Valentina’s POV As soon as the words left her lips, the door swung open, and a man stepped inside. "Get up. I'll take you to him," he said, his tone calm yet deliberate. I recognized him immediately. He was the Beta, the one who had given me that pale, tasteless bread earlier. I stood, my body stiff with both fear and anticipation. Without a word, he fell in step beside me, his presence almost suffocating as we walked down the hallway. Neither of us spoke, the silence between us growing heavy with every passing second. When we arrived, he turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Open it and go in," he said, and without another word, he turned and walked away. My hand hovered over the door handle, a lump forming in my throat. I could already feel dread crawling under my skin, twisting my insides into knots. There were only two fates waiting for me behind this door: I could either walk out half-dead, or I could walk out dead. With trembling hands, I pushed the door open and s

Valentina's POV The needle gleamed under the dim light like it had been forged for one purpose mine body. His fingers, steady and pale, hovered near my skin, and the air between us turned razor thin. “Hold still,” Ryker said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out every other sound. My mouth opened, but no words came. Just breath shallow, broken, terrified. He stepped closer, so close I could smell the sharp tang of metal, the faint scent of his skin beneath the faintest whiff of smoke. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. The contrast startled me more than the needle. “You won’t forget me,” he murmured, “even if you try.” But before the needle could pierce my skin, his expression shifted. His eyes turned distant, like something cold had cut through his concentration. His hand froze midair. Then, like a snap of lightning through a silent night, his jaw clenched and his eyes

Valentina's POV Silence said everything, filled every corner of the Grandhall, stretching like oil across a fire. No one laughed nor gasped. No one defended me. The insult floated above the table, suspended and heavy, waiting to fall. I didn’t lift my head because I couldn’t. My hands stayed on my lap, my fingers coiled into one another like knots I couldn’t untangle. My eyes fixed on the silver fork beside my plate, on the delicate way the light glimmered along its polished edge. A single bite of food sat untouched on a dish I hadn’t chosen. They served duck. I hated duck. The voice that spoke, that woman she hadn’t raised it. She didn’t need to, her tone had been conversational, like she was noting the weather or remarking on a poorly chosen necklace. I didn’t know her name, but I didn’t have to. I already knew what she was: dangerous. Every woman at this table was. I felt them watching me, still. Weighing me, deciding. My cheeks burned hot, and yet I felt cold all over.

Valentina's POV The bed was too big. Everything in the room was too much, the vaulted ceiling with its black beams, the tall curtains that looked like they belonged in cathedrals, the scent of leather and ash that clung to every surface like memory. The pillows were thick and soft, and I hated them for it. I didn’t belong here. This wasn’t a place people like me slept. This was a place people were kept still, I lay back carefully. As if the bed might reject me too. The gown they’d given me to change into was thin. Almost transparent. Pale silver silk, sleeveless, soft against my skin. It clung in places I didn’t want it to, reminding me with every movement just how exposed I was. I curled my legs slightly and folded my arms over my stomach, willing myself not to shake. They said this was his room. Our room now. The servants had said it so casually. “You’ll be sleeping in the Alpha’s quarters now. That’s tradition.” Then they’d bowed and vanished like their words hadn’t left my v