Semua Bab The executioner and the Alpha King: Bab 111 - Bab 120

Sonia’s Point of View I didn’t sleep. Not really. I closed my eyes. I counted my breaths. I turned the pillow over, then back again. But sleep didn’t come. Just a tight knot in my stomach that’s still there now, as I stand outside my room, tugging nervously at the sleeve of my tunic. Eva’s already here, straight-backed and alert, like she always is. Parker shows up thirty seconds later, yawning dramatically and rubbing at his neck like sleep personally offended him. “Morning,” he mumbles, squinting at the light. “Anyone else dream about glowing swords and bad decisions?” Eva gives him a look. I almost laugh. Almost. I fall in step beside them as we head toward the dining hall. My boots make soft sounds against the smooth floor. Everything here is too clean, too peaceful, like the building itself is trying to calm me down. It’s not working. The dining room is already busy. A few girls from the training wing are scrubbing the tables with cloths that smell faintly of lemon. One of

Sonia’s Point of View Snow crunches beneath me as I rise. My knees shake. My back still burns where the sword struck me. I can barely stand. The white world around me is too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes your skin crawl. There’s no wind. No birds. Just the sound of my breath coming in uneven gasps. I stumble forward, not sure where I’m going. The ground rolls out endlessly—soft green hills veiled in snow. In the sky above, clouds hang low and unmoving, like the world is holding its breath. Is this what death looks like? A quiet world, untouched by time or warmth? I feel like I’ve been here before. In nightmares. In guilt. In the shadowy places my thoughts go when I can’t sleep. Then I hear it. A low growl. Followed by the pad of many feet—dozens of them—crunching softly, slowly. I turn toward the sound. Wolves. Not ordinary wolves. These are white. Larger than any natural creature. Their fur gleams like moonlight. Their eyes glow gold. Sacred. Divine. Protected by th

Parker’s Point of View The bench is cool beneath me, and the garden smells like rosemary and fresh-cut grass. It’s too peaceful for how on-edge I feel. Sonia’s been in that chamber for what feels like hours. Eva sits beside me, unbothered as usual, her hands resting loosely on her lap. I glance at her, wondering what it’s like to be able to just… sit still and wait without chewing your nails down to the bone. “She’ll come back,” Eva says, without turning. “I know,” I reply. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna pace a trench in the dirt if this takes much longer.” Before Eva can respond, someone approaches. I recognize him instantly. Tall, broad, and wrapped in that same black uniform that never seems to wrinkle. He moves like a shadow with shoulders. It’s the same man who gave Theo and me the card—the one with Shadow’s number. The same man who knew too much before anyone else did. Mason. He stops in front of us. His eyes settle on Eva, then flick to me. “What did you do, little siste

Sonia’s point of view Zach, Selene, Carol, and Lily wave at us from the edge of the camp, all misty-eyed and sentimental. I’m doing my best not to roll my eyes dramatically. Parker salutes like he’s shipping off to war, and Eva just nods with that mysterious calm of hers. Me? I wave like a beauty queen in slow motion, earning an eye-roll from Eva and a grin from Zach. We’re leaving the camp on horseback, not in some royal carriage, because—and I quote Eva—“We deserve a little fun.” Translation: she wants an excuse to race through the woods like a feral queen with something to prove. Parker is just excited about wearing riding boots. He’s already named his horse Doom Bringer. Mine is Cheese Puff. Eva’s didn’t get a name. She says naming implies attachment, and she’s “not emotionally available to livestock.” So, off we go. Three self-proclaimed warriors of the realm—two sarcastic idiots and a recovering emotional disaster—riding through the forest like a band of weirdos on a field

Michael’s Point of View The day is warm and beautiful, the kind that dares you to pretend life is normal. Birds are chirping, the breeze is gentle, and the sun shines like it doesn’t know we’re chasing a lunatic war criminal through forests and cursed kingdoms. For once, everything feels… calm. After the week we’ve had—tracking Jake, losing sleep, and arguing in enough war meetings to last a lifetime—I need this break. So does Trixie. Which is why we’re walking through the gardens, away from maps, plans, and prophecy nonsense. Just us and the flowers. She walks a few steps ahead of me, her boots crunching against the gravel path. Then she glances over her shoulder. “Do you think they’re okay?” she asks, voice softer than usual. I stop near the fountain, the sound of running water filling the silence between us. “Define ‘okay’,” I say, sitting on the stone edge. “Because if you mean ‘alive,’ I’d say probably. But if you mean mentally stable? No way. Eva’s the All-Me Executioner wi