Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha’s Forgotten Bride: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

(Calla’s POV)The second knock of the day came just after noon.This time, I was already on edge.The sun filtering in through the frosted windows had begun to wane, casting a pale haze across the wooden floors. I’d just finished putting away Asher’s mittens and scarf, the ones he’d thrown off in protest because “the room wasn’t cold, Mama,” when the sound echoed again—three light taps.Too polite. Too rehearsed.I opened the door to find three maids again. The same trio as before.Only now, they were pushing in more than groceries. Rolls of winter fabric, thick coats, boxes of thermals, dried herbs, and rare spice sachets lined the trolley. A second maid wheeled in what looked like an insulated crate of meats. All wrapped. Labeled. High-quality.And I hadn’t asked for any of it.“Alpha’s orders,” said the youngest of them. She had golden skin, wide brown eyes that darted quickly to the floor, and a voice that didn’t quite match the confidence of her steps.“Where do you want them?” t

(Rowan’s POV)The door clicked softly behind me.I didn’t look back.I couldn’t.Not when the image of Asher’s pale cheeks and too-tired eyes still weighed on my chest like an anchor. And Calla—gods, Calla—with her guarded fire and trembling control, trying so damn hard not to fall apart in front of me.The moment I left their room, everything felt louder.The echo of my footsteps down the marble corridor. The humming of the old wall sconces. The quiet murmur of servants shifting from room to room like shadows on a loop. It all grated.I rubbed the back of my neck as I walked.I should’ve insisted harder. Told her to let my healer in. Demanded it, even. But something about her hesitation had stopped me cold. There was fear behind her eyes. Not the kind that screamed for help—no, it was subtler than that. A fear buried beneath years of being forced to survive alone. One that told me if I pushed too far, she’d vanish before I could blink.And I wasn’t ready to let her vanish.Not again.

(Calla’s POV)By sunrise, I had made my decision.I’d stood at the window again, arms wrapped around myself, watching the light bleed over the hills like a warning. And I whispered the words aloud—because sometimes you need to hear yourself surrender before it settles in your bones.“I’m ready.”So I called him.Rowan answered on the second ring.“I’ll be there soon,” he said after I told him.And he was.Maybe twenty minutes later, the door buzzed and his voice came through the speaker with quiet authority: “It’s me. And the healer.”I pressed the unlock button, and something in my chest knocked hard against my ribs.Footsteps echoed up the stairs before the door opened, and then he was there—towering and calm, dressed in a dark fitted sweater that made him look more like a man carved from the forest than someone who ruled it.But he wasn’t alone.The woman beside him wasn’t at all what I expected.Tall. Blond. Sharp-featured. Muscular arms half-exposed under a rolled-up white shirt

(Calla's POV)As Freya entered the room, I saw she was different.Not because of the tattoos running down her arms like ancient runes or the platinum blonde braid cascading over one shoulder like a lash of silver. No. Because of the way she regarded me.As if she already knew what I was going to say.As if she already knows me.And that set me on my guard.I didn't let it show.Rather, I settled back against the diner table's edge, arm draped around my waist, and watched. She moved sinuously, feeling Asher's pulse, scanning the results of whatever old machine she extracted from her backpack and coaxing soft questions from him in a tone that was not quite soft enough to belong to a woman who walked through darkness like a warrior.She was sucking peppermint gum, her mouth jammed full, a burn in her eyes that cut lies like a blade.Rowan stood next to me, arms crossed over his chest, watching quietly. The epitome of uninterested calm. But the tension between us was building, that burgeo

(Calla’s POV)What the actual hell just happened?My hands were still trembling, the ghost of movement lingering in every muscle as the guards dragged the two masked intruders away. Blood smeared the floor. My breath felt like fire in my throat. My thighs still pulsed from the crouch I held too long behind that pillar, and my heart? It was a wild, caged thing that refused to calm.They were going to hurt me. Or spy on me. Or worse.And then Elira. That witch. That serpent in silk.She’d stepped into the hallway with her applause and smug little grin like this was a stage performance she bought front-row tickets for. But she hadn’t lifted a single finger to stop them. Hadn’t gasped, hadn’t flinched. Just watched me fight for my life and acted like it was entertainment.And I didn’t tell Rowan.I didn’t mention Elira standing there in the shadows.Not because I was afraid. Not anymore. But because… if I had, it would’ve changed everything. She was playing a game, and I was just starting