Semua Bab The executioner and the Alpha King: Bab 101 - Bab 110

Eva’s point of view The corridor outside the throne room is quiet, steeped in the kind of silence that only follows chaos. I lean my forehead lightly against the cold windowpane, watching as dusk tints the sky in soft shades of orange and rose. The cobblestones below flicker with the last torches being lit for the night. Behind me, Parker sighs for the third time in five minutes. “They looked so fragile,” he murmurs. “I really feel sorry for them. Ten years of living under Jack, being brainwashed every single day… not knowing who you are, or worse—what you’ve done.” Trixie sinks to the floor with her back against the wall. “And their mother. Locked in the dungeon all that time. Not knowing whether her mate was dead or not. Not able to help her kids. Gods, how did she even survive that?” I don’t answer. I stare harder out the window, focusing on the stone railing below until the tension in my chest starts to hum. Then—like static between my ears—the familiar tingling starts. My el

Eva’s POV It’s late afternoon, but the castle halls still buzz with movement—servants carrying linens, warriors pacing like they’re trying not to eavesdrop, and someone upstairs arguing about soup that smells suspiciously like swamp water. I could use a bowl. Or maybe just the quiet that comes after eating one. Instead, I feel it again—the subtle tingle in my head, the council calling. “They’re ready,” I say aloud, already turning down the corridor. Parker groans from behind me, still nursing a second cup of lukewarm tea. “Great. Nothing like a post-trauma tribunal to wrap up a long day.” Michael adjusts his hoodie like he’s about to head into a boxing ring. “Are we voting this time? Or just shouting our opinions until Mason sighs dramatically again?” “Probably that one,” Trixie mutters, brushing a crumb off her sleeve. We gather again outside the throne room. This time, the mood is tenser. No girls to protect. No fragile mother to comfort. Just the ugly root of it all: Elder J

Eva’s point of view It’s been a week since Jack vanished. A whole week since we turned the entire Kingdom upside down looking for him, only to find air and silence. No footprints, no scent, no trace. The bastard disappeared like smoke in the wind. We even searched him before locking him in the dungeon—how the hell did he sneak in a relic? And the guard? Gone. Just gone. No signs of struggle, no remains. Just an empty chair and a cold cup of tea. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the suitcase resting by the door. It’s not much—just enough for a few days at the camp. A change of clothes, some emergency runes, and a knife tucked beneath a rolled-up scarf. Theo insisted on packing food. He even slipped in a jar of honey with a note: “In case things get bitter.” Idiot. Today’s the day we escort Selene and the twins to the hidden camp. The plan is simple: travel light, stay unnoticed. Only Parker and Sonia are coming with me. Theo stays behind—he’s the king, and more importantly, t

Eva’s point of view Next on my list are Parker and Sonia. I want to show them their rooms and go over the house rules before anything else. The camp might be hidden in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn’t mean we get to live like animals. Structure matters. Even in the woods. I start with Sonia, whose room is right next to mine. The door creaks as I open it—I’ll have to remind the groundskeeper about that—and Sonia walks in slowly, glancing around like she’s trying to map the place with her eyes. The room’s simple: wooden bed, small desk, fresh linens folded on the chair, and a window that overlooks the southern forest line. She doesn’t say much, but I notice her touch the curtains like they’re something fragile, something rare. Comfort, maybe. Safety. “Dinner is served in the main hall at six sharp,” I tell her. “There’s a bell. Don’t miss it unless you want to eat leftovers with the raccoons.” She cracks a smile and nods. That’s a good sign. Next, I walk across the c

Eva’s Point of View I step into the hallway just as Sonia and Parker appear around the corner. Sonia’s hair is braided to one side, looking far too elegant for dinner in a training compound. Parker… well, he still walks like his ribs remember the arrow. “You clean up well,” I say. “Clean is a strong word,” Parker grumbles. “I found a questionable leaf in my sock.” “That leaf saved your life,” Sonia adds with mock gravity. “You owe it respect.” We make our way to the dining hall, teasing each other like we’ve done this a hundred times. It’s strange, the way this little group has formed around me. Stranger still that it feels… nice. But the moment we step through the double doors, Parker stops dead in his tracks. His eyes widen. His jaw slackens. “Holy sweet mother of God,” he breathes. “I think I died and entered heaven.” I blink. “Ah.” Sonia lets out a bark of laughter. “Did you forget to mention something?” she nudges me. “Apparently,” I mutter, trying—failing—not to smile