All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Aries’ POV (Within Theo) Moonlight slides through the shattered stained glass of the old castle, painting colors over dust and decay. I stir within him—deep in Theo’s mind—watching, remembering, aching. Eva, Theo, and Sonia move through the ruins above, unaware that every step they take stirs up ghosts I have never truly buried. They don’t know I’m here. Not fully. Not even Theo. And that’s the point. I’m not supposed to interfere. Only advise. Protect. Guide. But the deeper we walk into Queen Sarah’s broken kingdom, the harder it becomes to remain silent. This place reeks of memory. Christopher. His name scrapes across my spirit like rusted blades. He had been a child—five years old—when I first awakened inside him. Too young. Far too young. His hunger for power had outpaced his heart. Greatness came to him as a weapon, not a gift. I remembered his joy when he made the elders bow. The triumphant smirk that didn’t fit his soft, round face. The day he struck Queen S

Eva’s POV The air shifts the moment we cross the threshold into the eastern wing. It’s subtle—an ancient hum, like a vibration beneath the stones. My boots brush against dust so thick it muffles every step. No one has been here in decades. But something is waiting. Theo is the first to react. He stiffens beside me, eyes unfocused, nostrils flaring. I turn slightly, catching the faint golden sheen that flickers across his irises. His wolf. It isn’t just close to the surface—it is the surface. He clenches his fists, and a low growl ripples from his throat. It isn’t angry or hostile. It’s… responsive. Alert. A part of him that’s been silent for days suddenly roars to life, like it has returned home. “Do you feel that?” he asks, voice low and strained. “It’s like… something called to me.” “Like the castle’s breathing,” I say, scanning the hall. “Alive, somehow.” Sonia moves behind us, trailing her fingers along the carvings that stretch across the wall—wolves, flames, crowns, cre

Theo’s POV I can’t sleep. Not with these walls whispering. Not with the stone pressing into my spine like it’s trying to carve something out of me. The fire we built earlier is still smoldering, casting shadows that don’t belong to us. Eva lies near the hearth, one hand curled under her cheek, barely moving. Sonia’s a few meters off, wrapped in a blanket she’s barely using. Her face is slack with sleep, peaceful for once. But I’m still wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling as though the stones might shift and spell something out. The words from the carving echo like a bell every time I blink. Nothing is what it seems. The mirror lies. But the blood remembers. I rise quietly, careful not to wake them, and pull on a shirt. The floor is cold under my feet, but I need to move. The air in here is too still, too heavy, like the room itself is holding its breath. I walk the corridor with slow steps, the old stones creaking under my weight. Even the air feels older in this wing, thick

Sonia’s POV This castle doesn’t just creak with age—it breathes. It sighs when you lean against the walls. It moans when your thoughts drift toward the wrong thing. It pulses under your skin like a second heartbeat that isn’t yours. The moment we arrived, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. Not well. Not truly. And not just because I’m sharing space with a woman I once tried to kill. Eva’s… strange. Terrifying. Inhuman. But sometimes, when I catch her staring at old portraits or running her fingers across forgotten relics, she looks more lost than anyone I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to hate her when she looks like that. I try to sleep, I really do. But the sheets, thick and heavy, feel foreign, and the smell of dust mingles with the faint traces of incense clinging to the air. The coldness of the stone floor seeps through the blankets, and the window above my bed rattles with every gust of wind. The silence is oppressive. But it’s not just the silence that keeps me awake; it’s th

Eva’s POV Morning light bleeds through the broken windows of the eastern corridor, painting the dusty floors gold. I stretch my arms above my head, bones cracking from a night spent half-awake, half-listening to the pulse of the castle beneath me. Theo stirs beside the extinguished hearth, running a hand through his hair before blinking blearily at the journal on the table. Sonia’s already tying her boots, looking like she barely slept—which she probably didn’t. None of us did. After a quick bite of dried meat and bread, we move out. No words are needed. We all feel it—the tension in the air, like the castle itself is waiting for us to make a move. I lead them through the west wing, where the air turns colder. My fingers trail across the stone as we walk, feeling for a tug, a signal. Something old lingers here, hiding just beneath the surface. Sonia suddenly stops behind me. “This wall feels… strange.” Theo’s already ahead, brushing dust off a carved emblem near a corner.