All Chapters of Falling For The Wrong Alpha : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Rhunar's POVI pushed open the mansion door, shoulders heavy, body weak. My legs nearly gave out under me, but I forced myself inside. The wolfbane still burned in my veins like acid, leaving me drained, hollow, and furious all at once. Madam Maltida’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in my head, her mocking laughter clawing at the back of my skull.No one was home. Silence met me, cold and empty, like the house itself was judging me. I didn’t even bother looking around. My hands shook as I closed the door behind me. My phone was gone—I had searched everywhere for it earlier, but Maltida must have taken it. A small victory for her, but an irritating one for me.I dragged myself upstairs, stripped out of my dirt-stained clothes, and stepped into the shower. The hot water stung, steam rising as it hit the scratches and bruises across my skin, but I didn’t flinch. Pain was nothing compared to humiliation. Maltida thought she could control me, break me with wolfbane and twisted words. She was

“What is this place?” Agatha’s voice cut through the silence, sharp but weak, as her lashes trembled and her eyes cracked open. Her skull pounded, every beat like a drum inside her head. Slowly, the blur cleared, and towering trees came into view. Branches twisted above her, crossing over each other until the sky looked sealed shut. It felt like a cage of wood and shadow holding her down. Something wasn’t right. Her chest rose, shaky. She dragged in air, and suddenly the world rushed at her all at once. Too loud. The flutter of birds’ wings—it cracked like thunder. The soft brushing of leaves scraping each other—it screamed like iron chains grinding. Even the drip of dew sliding off bark stabbed her ears. Somewhere beneath the grass, tiny insects crawled, their legs scratching the dirt—and she could hear it. All of it. And then—hearts. Not hers. Two. Close. Both alive. Both uneven. Her breathing hitched. “Oh… you’re awake.” The voice came smooth, almost gentle, but to her ear

Matilda’s heel clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing faintly through the wide courtyard like a ticking clock. She moved with the poised grace she always wore like armor, one hand lifting the hem of her long dress just enough so it wouldn’t drag. The morning sun slid across the polished stone, glinting off the black car parked at the edge. She reached for the handle of the door, but her fingers stopped mid-air. Something pricked at the edge of her senses, a scent drifting on the wind. Sharp. Old. Familiar. Like the ghost of a blade that had once sliced across her skin. She froze, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring just slightly. Someone was coming. Matilda turned slowly, her fingers still hovering above the door handle. Across the courtyard, a figure walked toward her with steady, unhurried steps. The sunlight caught on silver hair, making each strand glint like steel. Olinda. Matilda’s lips curved into a bitter smile, a smile she had practiced for centuries in mirrors

Marcus and Fenrik faced each other in the center of the cage, the sun burning down on their bare shoulders, sweat already forming along their muscles. Both were breathing steady, controlled, like hunters about to close in on prey. The crowd of Marcus’s men circled the cage, silent but tense, eyes flicking between the two like they were watching wolves circle in the wild. “Last man standing, amigo. Don’t take it easy,” Marcus said, voice low, controlled. His gaze was sharp, unblinking, never leaving Fenrik. Every movement of Marcus was deliberate, measured. His jaw tensed, veins rising along his temple as anticipation coiled in his chest. Fenrik’s lips curled into a smirk, but his heart hammered. “What makes you think I’ll go easy, un? I’ve never lost a fight, and I never will.” His voice was calm, but beneath it, the fire of determination and raw stubbornness flared. He shifted slightly, testing Marcus, feeling the tension in the other man’s stance. Marcus’s smirk widened, sharp, k

Fenrik burst into the mansion, muscles still tense, every step echoing through the marble halls. The instant he crossed the threshold, he saw Rhunar, Linda, and Ryan moving toward the front door. Ryan froze, turning toward him, eyes wide. “Boss… did you find anything about Agatha?” Ryan asked, voice tight with hope and worry. Fenrik’s jaw tightened. “Marcus doesn’t have her,” he said, letting the words settle like stones between them. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. The tension radiating off him was almost palpable. Rhunar stopped mid-step, concern etched deep into his face. “What happened to you?” he asked, taking a careful step closer. “You look like you battled a lion or something.” Fenrik’s lips pressed into a hard line. “Because I battled an Alpha,” he said, voice low, almost a growl. The memory of the fight pulsed through him—red eyes, crushing blows, the raw power of Marcus’s presence pressing against him even now. Lya, lounging lazily on the couch, li