Semua Bab Claimed By The Alpha: Cursed Desires: Bab 61 - Bab 70

The dungeon stank of fear.It wasn’t just a smell—it was a living, breathing thing, soaked into the stone walls like mildew. Thick. Damp. Rotting. The kind of scent that sank beneath the skin and clung to your lungs, foul and acidic. Chains creaked somewhere in the shadows, echoing in the stale silence, and the only light came from a single flickering bulb overhead. Its sickly yellow glow cast warped shadows over the walls and across the bloodstained floor, like a dying heartbeat trying to light up a corpse. Although her skin was marked with bruises and dried blood streaked her temple, her eyes… her eyes were alive.Defiant. Still burning with something dangerous.She didn’t look like a broken woman.She looked like someone who still believed she had power. That made her the most dangerous kind of enemy.I took a breath and stepped forward, arms crossed over my chest, trying to project calm serene, composed but inside? My stomach was a mess of knots and bile. Everything had spirale

Genevieve’s POVThe door creaked open with a low, dragging groan that made my stomach twist and my breath catch mid-thought. That sound it was too familiar, too deliberate, like the very walls were warning me that something terrible was about to walk in. My heart thundered against my ribs as silence swelled in the room, thick and suffocating. For a single, breathless second, I was sure it would be her again Camila.That snake.Slinking back in like a ghost from a nightmare, with that sickly sweet smile that never quite reached her eyes. Cruel. Calculated. Her lies polished like glass, sharp enough to slice through truth and leave you bleeding. I could already imagine the smug tilt of her chin, the honeyed venom dripping from her lips as she twisted yet another story in her favor. My spine stiffened on instinct, shoulders locking tight. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until my lungs began to burn. My fingers curled around the bedsheets, every part of me braced for another

Author's pov Inside one of the cold, forgotten rooms of the late Alpha Kendrick’s packhouse, the past clung to the walls like mildew thick, rotting, and inescapable. The place hadn’t been used since Kendrick's fall, but tonight it buzzed with hushed fury and ruthless resolve. A round, ancient table sat at the center of the room, its scratched surface littered with torn maps, a few dusty glasses of untouched wine, and sharpened blades that served as both tools and symbols of intent.The flickering candlelight struggled against the darkness, throwing erratic shadows across the grim faces gathered there. Time had not healed Kendrick’s death it had fermented it into something dangerous. And seated at the head of the table like a dethroned queen plotting the return of her crown was Kendrick’s widowed Luna. Her presence demanded silence. Her pain screamed in the clench of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the glint in her coal-black eyes. Her once golden spirit had been forged into so

Genevieve's POV"What do you mean you've been having nightmares? Why are you just telling me now, Genevieve?" André asked, his voice low but sharp with concern as his eyes searched my face.I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting together in my lap. I hadn’t meant to blurt it out, not now, not like this but the dreams had been growing worse, darker, and I didn’t know who else to turn to.“I didn’t want to bother you,” I said quietly, not meeting his gaze. “You already have so much on your plate. I know you’re preparing for the war that it’s inevitable. I didn’t want to add to your stress. I know you can’t afford to let your guard down.”He let out a slow, heavy sigh and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me. His embrace was warm, grounding, even though I could feel the tension still coiled beneath his skin.“Genevieve,” he murmured against my hair, “next time something is wrong, come to me. Don’t hide from me. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”He reac

Genevieve’s POVI curled beneath the covers, cocooned in the thick layers of blankets as if I could stitch myself back together with warmth alone. The fire in the hearth had dwindled to a faint orange glow, the last embers crackling quietly as shadows flickered lazily along the stone walls. The silence in the room was almost reverent too still, too quiet, like the breath of something ancient just waiting to be disturbed.My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, tracing invisible cracks and constellations across its darkened surface. Sleep didn’t come easy anymore. My thoughts churned restlessly, too loud in the hush of the night tangled threads of memory, shame, guilt, and questions I didn’t dare answer. The wind whispered against the windowpanes like a lullaby with no words, soft but mournful, as if the night itself knew what was coming.Eventually, my body gave in to the weight of exhaustion, and I drifted into that strange liminal space between waking and dreaming.And as always, the d