All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Eva’s POV “Nope.” “Nah.” “Never.” “Let’s go.” They all speak in unison. We walk in silence through the castle, down the stairs, and past the main dungeon door. I turn to face the group. “This is your stop.” “But there’s another door,” Trixie objects, frowning. “This is too far.” “Trust me, you’re still too close. Remember—after the first scream, you’ll have fifteen minutes to decide if you want to join us.” They nod reluctantly. Theo opens the next door, and we step inside, flanked by guards. The corridor is dimly lit, and the air is thick with anticipation. We stop in front of the cell. The imposter Teo is already standing, smirking. The elders are present, whispering quietly among themselves. Four guards stand between them and the bars. I motion for Theo and Parker to stand with the elders, then step toward the cell door. “Open it,” I instruct the nearest guard. The room falls silent. Teo rises from his cot, hands loosely clasped in front of him. “Oh, goody… so many v

Theo’s POV “Everybody out!” I bark, eyes locked on Eva. Now it’s my turn to help her. She looks like a bomb about to explode—and this time, she’ll have to trust me. I take her hand as the others silently retreat. Her skin is warm, and sparks ignite between us, activating the bond. Without letting go, I guide her toward the lockers and enter the one designed specifically for me. It has everything: a closet full of clothes, a massive couch, a mounted TV, and a small bathroom with a shower. “Theo,” she says, trying to pull her hand free, “you should go too. This will get messy… and I don’t have Mary.” “You have me now.” I hold her hand firmly and gently lead her to the couch. “And you need to learn to trust me.” I turn to face her. One hand moves to the small of her back, the other gently cups her cheek. “I know I can’t replace Mary,” I say softly, brushing a kiss over her lips, “but I am your mate—and I can take care of you. Maybe even better.” I trace her lips with mine—slow,

Sonia’s POV It’s been a month since the execution. A month since Theo saved her. A month of silence, of watching her from the shadows, trying to understand what makes her real. Because she can’t be. No one that deadly, that empty, that terrifying… could be real. But I’ve seen her smile. I’ve seen her let Theo touch her. I’ve even seen her laugh once. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was there, flickering at the edges like a ghost of something she didn’t know how to feel. Still, my mother’s voice haunts me. She’s not what she seems, Sonia. The black heart will burn if it touches light. That’s what she said before she died protecting me. Or cursing me—I can’t tell anymore. She believed in some old prophecy, some doomed fate I was born into, tied to a monster made of shadow. But Eva doesn’t feel like a monster. She feels like a question mark. And I can’t live with questions anymore. I need an answer—even if it’s bloody. I wait until the training grounds are empty. I’ve watched her

Sonia The pain is the first thing I feel. Deep. Pulsing. Like knives sewing my skin back together, one jagged stitch at a time. My body aches. My head feels like it’s filled with smoke, thick and dizzying. But I’m alive. I open my eyes slowly, blinking against the muted light streaming in through gauzy curtains. The room smells faintly of herbs—lavender, sage—and something sharper. Antiseptic. Blood. Not mine. The bed is soft. Clean sheets. A folded blanket across my legs. I’m in a room I don’t recognize. Not a dungeon. Not a cell. A real room. Warm. Safe. A thick bandage wraps my side, stained faintly with red. My shoulder’s been stitched. The claw marks down my thigh are crusted with salve, already healing—too slowly for a werewolf, but just fast enough to keep death at bay. Executioners heal like werewolves… but it still hurts like hell. I shift slightly, wincing. My ribs protest the movement. Every nerve screams. Then I hear it. Footsteps. Soft. Controlled. Not rushed

Eva’s POV The morning air is cool as I step through the threshold of Sonia’s room. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm still wrapped in bandages, the wound from the rogues healing slowly. Her gaze lifts to mine, no longer full of hatred—only uncertainty. “Are you ready?” I ask. She nods, hesitating only briefly before taking my hand. The bond between us is still forming, delicate but undeniable. Without a word, I guide her through the corridors of the palace, beyond the guards, the gates, the eyes that watch. We walk in silence through the trees, the ground soft beneath our feet. Birds don’t sing here. This path is too old, too sacred. Eventually, we reach the heart of the forest—a clearing surrounded by ancient stones carved with symbols even I don’t fully understand. In the center lies a small, shallow pool, its water still as glass. I sit on the edge, motion for Sonia to do the same. She looks around. “Where are we?” “This is where I was born,” I answer. “Not from f