All Chapters of The Alpha’s Pretty Mistake: Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

EmoryI always hated that the academy infirmary made me come for check-ups everyday since my accident. I hated the sterile smell of the place, the too-bright lights, the walls that were painted in that pale colour that tried too hard to be comforting. “Blood pressure stable,” the healer murmured, adjusting the strap around my arm. “Reflexes normal. No rebound dizziness?”“No,” I muttered. “I told you. I’m fine. I’ve been fine since I got discharged.”She gave me a look that said I didn’t get to decide that. And so I looked away.She clicked her pen, scribbled something onto the chart, and finally said, “All right, Emory. You’re cleared. But if you feel any faintness, nausea, or… unusual sensory spikes, come back immediately.”Unusual sensory spikes. If only she knew.“Can I go now?”“Yes. But take it easy.”I jumped out of the cot, and pulled my sleeve down over the light scar signs on my wrist, the last traces of the corruption of the King. They didn't hurt anymore. They didn't glow

AuthorIsolde Vale took a long time in waking up. The room in the dorm was dark, and was illuminated by the pale winter sun that was streaming through half-closed blinds. Her roommate, Maren, had already taken her departure, she always rose early, hardly greeted her, and never inquired of where Isolde went at night when nightmares caused her to sit up till the sky grew pale.The air felt heavy today…Isolde was standing before the mirror with her half-buttoned uniform shirt and was glaring at herself in the mirror as though she was expecting it to inform her what she was expected to be. She was just an average-looking person, with her hair pushed back, a pack on one arm, the slightest tints under her eyes. She looked ordinary. but in her heart she felt that she was not.Ordinary people did not experience memories as a shattered glass, flashing light, pieces, fragments that do not belong to their life.Ordinary individuals did not paint the faces of strangers flawlessly, right up to th

AuthorEmory had fainted days ago, and yet, he wondered why it was now that Jews of his fainting had began to spark more than it should have.Some students said he collapsed because he hadn’t eaten. Others claimed it was PTSD from “the incident last year,” though none of them knew what the incident was, only that it had been serious enough for the Council to shut down public records. A few whispered things far darker, curse, possession, trauma so deep it seeped through his bloodstream.No one dared ask him directly. Emory walked down corridors with set shoulders, a fixed chin, and his eyes were out there way out of lockers and text books and teenage conversation. A survivor among a group of teenagers who were not aware of what it meant to survive.And after those gossips came still a second name.Isolde Vale.She didn't hear it at first. Her head was bent down with her textbooks clasped to her bosom. But whispers know how to get to the people they are meant for.“Is it not the girl he

EmoryI wasn’t sure when the cafeteria became the loudest place on earth. Maybe it always had been this loud, but that day it felt different. Noisy on the outside, empty on the inside. Just like me. I balanced my tray in one hand and scanned the room automatically. I used to do it out of habit, instinct, because Kol taught me to map a space the second I walked into it. Now I did it for one reason only. To avoid her. Isolde Vale. The girl who didn’t matter, who shouldn’t have any kind of gravity around her, but somehow did. I spotted Mina first. She was in the back corner, the same place she used sit sometimes, half in shadow, scribbling in that journal she thought no one noticed. She saw me coming but didn’t close it this time. That was new. I dropped into the seat across from her. “You usually sit here when you wanna be alone. Where’s Gina?” I asked, glancing at the empty chair beside her. Mina only shrugged, eyes still on her notebook. “Probably convincing someone to

MinaEver since this whole Isolde incident I had been waking up before dawn. And now, I woke before dawn again. You’d think the alarm, or Gina rustling around the closet choosing which version of “perfect daughter” she wanted to be that day would wake me up like it would a normal person. No. I woke because someone was whispering my name. Not someone alive. Rain. It was always the same dream. A horizon of white light, too bright to look at and too soft to fear. She stood in the centre, hair drifting behind her as if the light itself was wind. She didn’t speak with her mouth. She spoke with the space between heartbeats. Mina… And I always reached for her. And she always stepped back. And the brightness grew until it cracked like glass. That morning, something changed. When the light shattered, something warm trickled from my nose. I woke gasping, touching my upper lip, expecting blood, and yes. My fingers came away red. A nosebleed from… something else. Something wrong.