All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

Nathaniel’s point of view The camp gates rise before us, stark and silent in the moonlight. My hands tighten on the wheel until the leather digs into my palms. Malcolm leans forward in the passenger seat, eyes sharp, every sense on Simone in the back. Isabella crouches beside her, murmuring protective words, holding her as tightly as she can. Simone thrashes suddenly, jerking against the restraints. “I don’t want this! I won’t go in there!” “Simone, listen to me!” I shout over her wild screaming. “The chamber is the only way to keep you safe. To stop the darkness from destroying you!” Her laughter cuts like knives. “Safe? You think I need your safety? I am not yours to protect!” “Then fight it with us!” Isabella urges, her voice soft but firm. “We won’t hurt you. We only want you alive!” Malcolm steps closer, blocking her forward lunge. “Calm down! We’re here to help!” Simone lashes out, twisting violently, hitting Isabella in the shoulder. Isabella cries out but holds

Simone’s point of view The chamber dissolves, leaving me stumbling across a green field. The grass bends under my feet, the air thick with the scent of earth and magic. In the distance, a small farm glows warmly, almost inviting—but I feel no comfort. “Simone,” Rufus calls, his voice deep, resonant, carrying both authority and a dangerous pull. Shadows curl around his feet, writhing like living smoke. “You’ve grown strong. The darkness inside you… it belongs with me. Join me, and we can embrace what we are meant to be.” My chest tightens. Every fiber of me screams in recognition—this is my father, the man who raised me, the one who shaped my earliest memories. And yet… the pull is suffocating. The darkness inside me pulses, echoing his voice, tempting me, promising power, vengeance, and control. “I… I can’t,” I whisper, staggering backward. My heart races. “I… I don’t know if I want this… if I’m meant for this.” A soft voice drifts over the field, lighter, warmer. “Simone,

Isabella’s point of view The chamber is quiet now. The faint hum of residual magic lingers in the air, soft and comforting, and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, a spark of hope lights in my chest. I sit beside Simone’s bed, fingers brushing her hair back from her face, heart hammering with a mixture of relief and awe. She stirs, eyelids fluttering, and emerald green eyes blink open, piercing and intense even in their moment of confusion. My breath catches. The resemblance is uncanny—red hair catching the morning light, a delicate curve of her jaw, the same determined set to her mouth. My daughter… my daughter lives. “Simone,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion, and she blinks at me, confusion mingling with recognition. A small, fragile smile tugs at the corner of her lips. I feel tears threatening, but I swallow them, letting joy swell freely in my chest for the first time in what feels like forever. Nathaniel stands quietly by the window, his posture tense yet watc

Kostas’s point of view The moment the Alpha King accepts our hospitality, something shifts in my chest. It’s not every day the most powerful wolf alive agrees to set foot in another pack’s home. We don’t keep guests often, not even allies—our land is sacred, and trust is earned here, not given. Yet when he nods, calm and certain, I feel my wolf stir with pride. I swing a leg over my motorcycle, Alecos revving beside me, and fall in line behind my father. The roar of the engines carries us down the coastline road, wind cutting sharp against my skin, the salt of the sea chasing us like an old friend. Behind us, the jeeps roll steady, heavy with his warriors, or his most trusted friends i would say, as they act. My father rides ahead, the Alpha King beside him in his car, and for a moment it looks like two worlds riding side by side—ancient Greece and a foreign crown. Ten minutes later, we crest the last hill, and the pack house rises in front of us—stone and whitewashed walls glea

Theo’s point of view This place is too warm for November. The air carries the smell of salt, sunbaked stone, and rosemary, with no hint of frost. In my homeland, this time of year the earth hardens under ice, skies turn gray, and every breath reminds you that winter is coming. Here, the breeze is gentle. The light is golden. Everything feels… easy. I understand why people love it. But instead of comfort, I feel the burn of jealousy in my chest. Lily and Carol found their mates the very first day. I watched it happen—the unmistakable look of recognition, wolves howling inside them, souls entwining like they had never been apart. I told myself I was glad for them. And I was. But as I smiled, my heart twisted. Because their joy reminded me of what I don’t have. What I lost. What I destroyed with my own hands. I came here searching for my mate. Searching for redemption, if the goddess would even allow it. And yet the only thing I feel is the sting of envy. Then the door opens.