All Chapters of Falling For The Wrong Alpha : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

“Thank goodness you’re back, Agatha,” Fenrik said, the words coming out almost like a gasp. He didn’t wait for permission—he closed the space between them in three long strides and pulled her into his arms. His hands tightened on her back, as if by holding harder he could stop everything that had happened to her from being real. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body, even the faint tremor he felt beneath her skin made his chest tighten. For weeks he’d imagined this moment, holding her again, but the reality felt strangely cold, like ice pressed against his heart.Agatha’s arms stayed at her sides. She stood stiffly in his embrace, not pushing him away but not returning it either. Her face was turned slightly from his, her white hair spilling over his shoulder like snow. The strands brushed his neck, cool and unfamiliar. Everyone in the room was watching her, their silence heavy, their eyes moving from Fenrik’s desperate grip to the unreadable expression on Agatha’s face. It fe

“Will you stop this, Sister! I am not a wrecking ball!” Vincent’s voice cracked with fury and pain as his body slammed against another tree. Bark split under the impact and splinters rained down his shoulders. His back burned from the repeated blows. His head snapped forward, hair plastering to his sweat-slick face. He raised his arms in a weak attempt to shield himself, but the invisible force caught him again, yanking him sideways. His boots dragged ruts through the pine needles before he was hurled into another trunk. The groan that tore out of him rattled in the cold night air. Olinda didn’t even blink. Her eyes glimmered like black glass as she flicked him from one tree to the next with a small tilt of her head. Branches snapped, echoing like dry bones. Leaves scattered down on them like a rain of green confetti. Each impact was a drumbeat in the clearing. Vincent’s ribs ached with every breath, and when he coughed, a wet splash of blood stained his sleeve. Still, his eyes staye

“Wait… do you know the Morrows?” Vincent’s voice cut through the evening air, sharp and insistent, like a blade against stone. Olinda didn’t flinch. She quickened her pace instead, her heels crunching through the dried leaves scattered over the narrow forest path. She didn’t turn to look at him; her hair, long and dark, swayed with each hurried step, catching the last light of dusk like strands of ink. Her gaze stayed pinned to the path ahead, shoulders rigid, hands buried in her coat pockets as if the movement alone could swallow her from his questions.Vincent tugged at his suit jacket, straightening the lapels as though it were armor. His breath misted faintly in the cooling air. The woods were growing dim, the sky bleeding into night, but he didn’t slow. He lengthened his stride, each step deliberate, catching up to her in a few quick paces. His voice sharpened, carrying a thin edge of frustration. “Come on, Sister. You haven’t answered my question. How do you know Amos Morrow?”O

“Hey, Agatha… how are you doing?” Linda’s voice broke the silence like a pebble tossed into still water. She tried to make it sound light, almost teasing, but the tremor in her words betrayed her. She was the first to speak, because someone had to. Fenrik was still frozen, his hands on the edge of the table, eyes locked on Agatha like he couldn’t quite believe she was standing there at all. “Do you want to eat? I made breakfast,” Linda added quickly, her fingers brushing crumbs off the nearest plate as if the gesture might make the invitation more appealing. She tilted her head toward the food—toast stacked on a platter, scrambled eggs cooling in a pan, fruit cut into neat slices. All of it untouched. Agatha didn’t answer. She didn’t even glance at the plates. Her face was still, unreadable, as though she hadn’t heard a thing Linda said or as if she were listening to something only she could hear. The air between them seemed to stretch, heavy and fragile. Then the sound of the door

"I better go meet Olinda,” Fenrik said as his eyes followed Agatha’s retreating figure up the stairs. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I need to ask what we can do about Agatha. This… this isn’t normal. She’s different now.” “I’m coming with you,” Rhunar said without hesitation, his voice low and serious. He adjusted the strap of his satchel over his shoulder. “You’re not walking into that alone.” “Me too,” Ryan added, stepping closer. His fingers flexed nervously at his sides, and he kept glancing back toward the empty hallway where Agatha had disappeared. “I can’t just stay here while she’s… like that.” Lya, still leaning back on the armrest of the sofa, raised a hand, her voice tinged with irritation. “Hey, I’m still in the healing phase, remember? Don’t tell me you’re all going to leave me here in this house with an upgraded Agatha.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she shifted on the couch as if bracing herself for what could happen. Rhunar’s head jerked toward her.