Alle Kapitel von The executioner and the Alpha King: Kapitel 41 – Kapitel 50

Unknown Figure – POV The old oak door groans as I descend the final stone steps. The scent of damp stone and rot rises to greet me like an old friend. I inhale—not for pleasure, but for control. Down here, there are no lies, no masks, no titles or politics. Only stone, secrets… and her. The torches lining the corridor flicker as if recognizing my presence, casting long shadows along the damp walls. The flames bow in silence, just like everyone else should have. My boots echo with each deliberate step, a rhythm of inevitability. She doesn’t look up—not at first. She never does. She sits just as she always has: ankles crossed, back straight, a mockery of grace. As if she still holds dignity. A fool’s delusion. “I see the rats haven’t eaten you yet,” I murmur, voice flat, emotionless. “A shame. I had such high hopes for them this week.” Her head lifts, slowly. Her hair is tangled, wild, a mess that speaks of years stolen. But her eyes—those cursed eyes—remain unchanged. Defiant. B

Lily’s pov The walls are white. Always white. They say white is the color of peace, of purity. But to me, it’s the color of emptiness. I’ve been in this room for as long as I can remember. Father says I’m sick. That going outside would kill me. He says I was born fragile, different, delicate. The air out there would poison my lungs. The sun would burn my skin. The world… would destroy me. He only wants to keep me safe. Still, I press my forehead to the window glass and watch the trees swaying in the wind. Just beyond the garden wall, the forest looms like a secret I’m not allowed to know. I wonder what the wind feels like. I wonder what freedom feels like. I imagine stepping outside barefoot, toes in the dirt, arms stretched wide. Would the sky fall on me? Would the trees whisper my name? He says the world forgot me. That even she forgot me. My mother. She left. Took Carol with her. Didn’t even look back. I was too sick, too much of a burden. He said she only wanted the strong

Parker’s POV Of all the things I’ve had to endure in my life—rogue attacks, Eva’s death stare, Theo’s guilt-tripping speeches—nothing quite compares to the horror of being paired with Trixie on a mission. Apparently, “alpha orders” trump common sense. “You’re late,” she huffs, arms crossed like a cartoon villain as she leans against the Jeep, tapping her boot like she owns the ground under it. “You’re lucky I showed up at all,” I grumble, tossing my duffel bag into the back. “I thought Theo was joking when he said I had to babysit you.” “Babysit?” Her voice sharpens like a blade. “I’m the one keeping you alive, Beta. Or did you forget who saved your sorry ass last time?” I glare but don’t respond. Mostly because she’s technically not wrong. I slide into the driver’s seat, and of course, she claims the passenger side with a dramatic sigh, like we’re heading straight to our deaths. The engine groans as I turn the key. She hums an annoyingly cheerful tune while blowing a

Theo’s POV I hear them before I see them. The sounds of arguing drift through the trees like some kind of chaotic mating ritual gone terribly wrong. “I told you not to punch him in the face again!” “And I told you I didn’t mean to. His face just happens to be in the way of my fist!” A branch cracks, followed by a very loud thud and Trixie yelling, “Watch the rogue’s head!” “Why?” Parker shoots back. “He already tried to bite my face.” I step out onto the path just in time to see their jeep bouncing into view, tires crunching over dirt and pine needles. Trixie flings the door open before the engine fully stops, stomping out with the fury of someone who has been trapped in a car with Parker for far too long. Parker, meanwhile, hauls the unconscious rogue out of the back like a sack of flour, slinging him over his shoulder with one arm. “Next time we find a rabid scout in the woods, I vote we just leave him there.” “You vote that every time,” Trixie says, brushing pine needles f

Eva’s POV Today, I take the bull by the horns. I asked Theo and Sonia to meet me at the training ground. Surprisingly, Sonia waits for me at the front door, so I motion for her to follow me as I step inside. The training ground is too quiet. No sparring, no grunts of effort or steel clashing. Just the wind sweeping dust across the field and the rhythmic thud of Theo’s fists slamming into the training post. Over and over. It isn’t training—it’s a storm with a target. Sonia stands a few feet behind me, arms crossed, jaw tight. She keeps shifting from one foot to the other, like she can’t decide whether to pace or pounce. I can relate. I step forward slowly. “You’re going to snap that post in half.” “That’s the idea,” Theo mutters, eyes fixed forward. I stop a few paces away. “Theo—” Thud. His fist slams again. “Don’t,” he growls. Sonia rolls her eyes. “Should’ve brought a peace offering. Like pie. Or a punchable dummy. Oh wait—he already has one.” I ignore her. Bar