All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

Eva’s Point of View The sea breeze carries the scent of thyme and salt as I leave the little cabin behind, letting the door click softly shut behind me. Artemis’s words still echo in my mind: “You don’t need to give much. A smile, a thank you, a gesture… that’s how bridges are built.” So, I walk. Past the low stone wall and down the narrow path that winds through the olive trees. Sunlight dapples the ground in golden flecks. The leaves whisper secrets above me in a language only the wind can understand. As I make my way toward the pack house, I see them. Wolves in human form, tending gardens, cleaning tools, laughing by the laundry lines. Brown skin kissed by the sun, dark curls tousled by the breeze, eyes that hold the warmth of the earth itself. They’re all so… Mediterranean. So deeply rooted. And I— I glance at my reflection in a glass window. Pale. Blonde. Eyes like storm clouds. A ghost drifting through someone else’s story. I nod politely to a few who wave. They sm

Eva’s Point of View The waves call me. After lunch, with my belly full and my heart heavier than I expected, I slip away from the house. The laughter still echoes behind me—Katerina bickering with Kostas, Paris’s low voice, Maria humming as she clears the table. I need the sea. I need silence. The path is familiar now. Olive branches sway above me as I walk down toward the dunes, sandals in hand, toes curling into the warm earth. The beach opens up before me like a memory I never lived—a stretch of soft white sand, water shimmering silver-blue under the summer sun. I sit at the edge, where sand meets sea, and hug my knees to my chest. The wind tangles my hair. My eyes close. Then a voice breaks the stillness. “You always vanish after meals, or is this just a dramatic habit of yours?” I glance up. Kostas. He drops down beside me, a little too close, brushing sand off his pants with a sigh. He’s carrying a peach in one hand and offers it to me. “No pressure. I stole it from Mar

Kristina’s Point of View The market is buzzing with end-of-summer life—fishermen yelling about their fresh octopus, old ladies arguing over who makes the best glyko koutaliou, and children running barefoot between olive stands. But I have one mission today. Paint supplies. For a girl who looks like she’s seen war from the inside. I glance at my list. Acrylics in soft tones, thick brushes, sketching pencils, and canvas. The shopkeeper eyes me like I’m about to open an art school. “Not for me,” I say, smiling. “It’s for a guest. A young woman. She… needs to paint.” He nods with a kind of silent understanding and wraps everything up with care. ––– By the time I reach the cabin, the sun is high and the cicadas are screaming like they haven’t taken a break since spring. I knock lightly, balancing the shopping bags on one hip. The door swings open and Eva blinks at me, barefoot, hair loose over her shoulders. “Kalimera,” I greet her. “I come bearing gifts.” Her eyes widen when sh

Eva’s Point of View The pack house smells like roasted garlic, warm bread, and too many stories I haven’t heard. The laughter echoes through the stone walls and wood beams like it’s been waiting for generations to stretch its legs. I step inside and nod politely as Kristina waves me in from across the long table. Kostas is already sitting, arguing over something ridiculous with Katerina — I think it’s about whose turn it is to wash the breakfast dishes from yesterday. I sit beside Kristina, and a plate is placed in front of me without question. Grilled fish, lemon potatoes, and bright vegetables dripping in olive oil. It smells like home. Not my home. But someone’s. “Everything alright, dear?” Kristina asks quietly, as the others fall into another round of laughter. I nod once. “Yes. Thank you.” I don’t mention the painting. I don’t tell her about the man who came to life beneath my fingers. I don’t know how to explain him. Instead, I eat slowly. I listen. I smile when it fe

Theo’s Point of View I can’t sit still anymore. Dreams are something, not nothing. I know her soul reached for mine. Even if she didn’t recognize me… even if she said she didn’t love me… she dreamed of me. That has to count for something. Aries agrees. He hasn’t shut up in my head all morning. “We act now. While she’s still dreaming of us.” So I call them all. By midmorning, we’re gathered around the long war table in the strategy room. Not for battle. Not for politics. For her. Parker. Trixie. Michael and Lenny. Elias. Marcus. And Sonia. The air is thick with worry, but there’s something else beneath it—determination. “She’s alive,” I start. “And I think… I think she reached me last night. In a dream.” Trixie leans forward, eyes wide. “Like a real dream? Soul-to-soul kind of thing?” I nod. “She didn’t know who I was. She told me she didn’t love me. But she was there. We were on a beach. The sky was orange. Sunset, I think. She looked like herself… but different. Sof