All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Eva’s Point of View The silence of the room presses in like a second skin. Suffocating. Heavy. Absolute. I stand before the cracked mirror, the same one that once betrayed me by revealing truths I hadn’t asked for—eyes that changed color, whispers that told me nothing is what it seems. I used to meet my own reflection with indifference. It was a mask I wore well. Now, I don’t recognize the face staring back. It hasn’t changed—but something inside has. Unreadable. Distant. Weak. I hate it. A pulse moves through me—not power, not precision. Not the familiar, bone-deep certainty that once guided every breath I took. This is something else. Something messy. Something loud. I press my hand against the glass. Cold. Grounding. My fingers tremble. Tremble? I don’t tremble. “What is this…” I whisper. No one answers. But my body speaks louder than words. The tightness in my chest. That infuriating lump in my throat. It forms every time Theo looks at me like I matter. Like he sees me—n

Theo’s Point of View She’s already turning toward the door. I see it in the way her shoulders rise—not with tension, but with resolve. The same resolve she uses when walking into a battlefield. Only this time, her enemy isn’t outside. It’s inside her. And that makes it worse. Eva doesn’t run from war. She runs from feelings. But not this time. Not again. “Eva,” I say, voice low, calm, steady. “Don’t go.” She pauses. Just for a second. Her hand hovers near the doorknob, fingers twitching slightly as if her body isn’t quite convinced it should obey her mind. “I can’t help you if you keep walking away,” I say, a step closer now. I don’t touch her. Not yet. She needs the choice to be hers. “I know this scares you. I know you scare you right now. But you don’t have to face this alone.” Her spine stiffens. “I’m not scared,” she says. Quiet. Sharp. Defensive. “Then why are you leaving?” She doesn’t answer. The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled taut, re

Eva’s Point of View Warmth. It’s the first thing I notice when I stir—a soft, steady heat wrapped around me, anchoring me to a moment that doesn’t feel like mine. For a heartbeat, I wonder if I’m dreaming. But executioners don’t dream. We see visions. Controlled. Clinical. Directed by need, not emotion. This felt like none of that. It felt like someone was there. Not physically—more like a shadow wrapping itself around me from the inside out. A whisper in the darkness. Not commanding. Not cold. Just… present. Protective. Possessive. And strange as it sounds, it felt good. I shift slightly. Theo’s arm is still curled around my waist, his body a wall of warmth and quiet strength. His face is relaxed in sleep—unguarded, unburdened, peaceful in a way I rarely see. He hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t pushed. He had just held me. I came here raw, unraveling, unsure of what was happening to me. And he made space for it. For me. I never meant to stay. But I did. I ea

Sonia’s point of view “Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you want me.” “I don’t—” He pins me to the counter before the lie can finish. His mouth crashes into mine, hot and rough and so full of need I forget how to breathe. I fist his shirt, pulling him closer, teeth clashing with his in a kiss that tastes like fury and lust and surrender. His hands are on my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, and when he lifts me onto the counter, I wrap my legs around him without thinking. I want to fight. I want to melt. He drags his mouth down my neck, biting, tasting, staking his claim in every inch of skin. Then he pulls back, breathing hard. His eyes are glowing. “Bedroom. Now.” I smirk. “Or what?” Michael growls—a low, possessive sound that vibrates through my chest. He lifts me like I weigh nothing and tosses me over his shoulder. “Or I take you right here, against the kitchen counter, where anyone could walk in.” I squirm, laughing—but it dies in my throat when he swats my ass, hard

Eva’s Point of View I sip my coffee, elbows planted on the windowsill, watching the two lovebirds across the courtyard. Well, four technically, but only two have admitted it to themselves. The other pair? Masters of denial. It’s kind of fascinating—watching people orbit around each other, pulled together like magnets but pretending it’s just gravity playing tricks. Stranger still: I enjoy this. Before, I would’ve observed with clinical distance, maybe even some disdain. Now? I feel things. Curiosity. Amusement. Longing. That last one’s a bitch. I glance sideways, and sure enough, Theo is already watching me, smirking like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Which he probably does. Bastard. But instead of growling at him like I used to, I smile. It’s automatic, unnerving. That smirk has become familiar—almost comforting. We may not be intimate, but there’s no denying we’re connected. The way he touches me in small, deliberate ways. The way I lean into them now. And gods, the way