All Chapters of Alpha’s Dark Redemption : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Lucas's POVThere was a storm in the house, and it wasn’t the weather. Selina—unflappable, formidable, my mate in everything but a honeymoon registry—was pacing with an angularity that could slice granite, and Vera, who usually went about her business with the indifference of a war widow, was glaring holes through the marble kitchen island. I’d never seen them this pissed. It was a good look.Selina intercepted me halfway to my coffee, a breathless, cold-brew-glazed missile. “Someone told Lydia,” she said. She didn’t need to elaborate. Lydia Sykes: social climber, chronic gossip, sometime-ex, and recently, a parasite with her fangs in the council’s ear. She’d been a pain in my ass since I fucked her, and now she was a pain in my ass with political backing.I set the mug down and exhaled. “Who?”“Who do you think?” Vera’s voice, dry as paper. “Wasn’t one of us. Had to be someone in the pack.”Which meant the staff. My staff. Fuck. I rotated through the mental Rolodex: the guards, the k

Selina's POVI could have steered my car straight into a light pole, and it would have felt less catastrophic than the drive home. Lydia’s last words burned hotter than the Florida sun through the glass: "This is how I lick your mate." As if I didn't know she fucked him. The nerve of that woman! She sliced me down to the marrow, scooped my insides out, and left me hollow and grinning for the world. I white-knuckled the wheel, every muscle in my forearms etched in relief against my skin. Half the drive I fantasized about Lydia stepping in front of the car, painted across my bumper like a Rorschach; the other half I spent blinking against the tears that refused to fall.The road home was a fried strip of interstate, punctuated with peeling billboards and chain-link fences, tire shards, and dead armadillos in varying states of deflation. Each mile marker felt like a fucking insult. I wanted to scream, to destroy something delicate and cherished, just to prove that the world could still h

Selina's POVLucas’s room stank of sex already. That was my fault, probably. The bed was still a disaster, the comforter a lump at the footboard, his pillows thrown onto the floor, one with a visible wet patch I’d made last time. Lucas was in his desk chair, tapping at his laptop, backlit by the gathering dark and whatever hell-light his monitor spilled. He always pretended not to notice when I let myself in. Always a performance, him being “busy” as I stalked him and crossed the room on silent feet.“Hi, Selina,” he said, still typing.I leaned my hip into the desk, hard enough to jostle the plastic cup of pencils. “Who else would it be?”He shrugged and clicked something. His profile was sharp, jawline tense, and Adam’s apple working like he was swallowing words he wanted to say but wouldn’t. The little fucker wore a T-shirt I’d bought him, a black one that barely fit. I stared at the ink on his bicep, the linework twitching with his muscles as he hit keys. He tried to act cool, but

Lucas's POVIf there was one thing I hated more than council paperwork, it was when Selina was pissed at me. The best sex of my life, and she’s cut me off, cold turkey, because I forgot about her not trusting me when it comes to that whore.Today, I called Grant to my office because I needed my mate happy, and to get her happy, I needed Lydia off my back. Which meant someone else had to keep the wolves from eating each other while I dealt with this drama.The office still stank of Selina’s perfume—a passive-aggressive reminder—and I was about to light a cigar to cover it when Grant knocked once and barged in. “Alpha,” he said, and dropped his armful of paperwork onto the desk like a dead calf.“Selina’s mad at me because of the councilman at our back and Lydia Sykes,” I said. Grant grunted; he had a mate, he understood. “I’m leaving you in charge for a few hours, unless you want to handle Lydia yourself.”Grant’s lips twitched, like he was weighing the options. “You want me to cull he

Jonathan's POVThere are knives that come in sentences. That was one of them. I let it slide like air over ice. It’s useful to be capable of losing before you make the enemy believe they have the upper hand. I kept my smile narrow and patient.“You’ve fallen for someone else,” I said. Not a question. Just the fact that it's a scalpel.She said my name and then the other man’s, like it was a spell that would clear the air: “Lucas.”It landed like a physical weight. The letters collected in the space between us, cold and accusing. She said it with a sigh that was half apology, half defiance. She’d wanted to confess it to me with something like dignity; she had failed. The admission was small and enormous all at once: Lucas Blackwood had edged into the places I owned.I kept my hand steady. The polite smile folded a little, like a hinge bent under pressure.“Selina,” I said, exactly the way you say someone’s name before you promise them something or kill their illusions. “You know how da