All Chapters of Alejandro's Human Antidote : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Alejandro's POV Some ghosts do not wear chains. Some wear your face and live in the mirror. Redmoon Pack was supposed to be my home. But homes do not bruise you for breathing wrong. Our villa was secluded from the rest of the pack. Alpha Xavier Wolfgang said it was to "protect his family’s privacy." What it really did was muffle the sounds of fists on flesh, of screams smothered by fear.I was ten when I first shifted. Most pups shift at sixteen. For others, a full moon or a near-death experience triggers it early. Mine? I had no warning. One minute I was trying to breathe through the agony of a fever that would not break, the next I was a hulking wolf in my bedroom, bones snapping into new shapes. Xavier stormed in, stared at me like I was vermin, and spat, "No son of mine would be an abomination." From that moment on, I was not a son. I was a mistakeMother tried. Goddess, she tried. But she was always careful. Her kindness was measured in glances, not touches. Her affection locked

Zenith’s POVThe warmth of the blanket is not what wakes me. It is him. Alejandro. I do not know what to call it. Maybe a flicker, a thread, or a shadow of a memory that is not mine, but felt like mine.I sit up in bed slowly, not startled… but heavy-hearted. Like I have been traveling all night, through the thick of forests, past blood and fire, through pain that does not belong to me. Except… it does. Because it belongs to him. My Alejandro.I press a hand over my chest and whisper into the quiet, “I saw it again.” Not just the flashes from before, but everything. The loneliness. The way he ran with nothing but instinct and sorrow. The glowing bracelet. The monsters that wanted his blood. His mother’s voice in the dark. And that cabin in Oregon, haunted by silence.It was not just a dream. It was him. He never asked me to understand him. But the bond, this strange, beautiful, quietly burning thing between us, it is showing me who he is. Without permission. Without warning. And I do

Zenith’s POVBy the time we get home, my head is still swimming. I keep staring at the house keys like they might start talking and explain the emotional rollercoaster they have thrown me onto. But of course, they do not. They just glint smugly under the hallway light as I set them on the kitchen counter.Then something strange happens. Alejandro rolls up his sleeves and walks toward the fridge. “I’ll cook tonight,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I blink. “Wait. You cook?”He does not answer. Instead, he just opens the fridge, grabs vegetables, eggs, a tray of marinated chicken I did not even know we had, and starts moving with calm precision. I hop onto a stool and watch in amazement as he sets up like a chef in a Michelin-star kitchen.Within minutes, the kitchen smells like heaven. He is fast, precise and very elegant, even in the way he slices peppers and tosses spices into the air like he is communing with them. “Where did that come from?” I ask, genuinely

Zenith’s POVThe smell of rosemary and baked eggs floats through the air before I even open my eyes.At first, I think I’m dreaming again, dreaming of lavender-roasted potatoes, grilled tomatoes, buttery croissants, and... lemon zest? But no, this isn’t a dream. Because the bed is soft, and the arms around my waist are real, and the person currently humming a ridiculously smooth tune in the kitchen is most definitely not me.“Jandro?” I mumble, sitting up groggily. He is already plated everything, sleeves rolled up, face calm and focused like cooking is just another way to center himself. When his eyes meet mine, I get butterflies. The silent kind. The kind that land softly but stay there, fluttering. “Good morning,” he says simply. “Hungry?” I blink. “You made brunch?” “You said your parents were coming.”I gape at the spread, homemade flatbreads, shakshuka, a tower of berry pancakes, and fresh juice. “You’re not a boyfriend,” I whisper. “You’re a fever dream.” His brow arches. “What

Unknown POVThe afternoon sun spilled golden light into the living room, it rays reflecting on framed photos, vases, and the gentle folds of Zenith’s mother’s dress. She stood by the window, watching her daughter and Alejandro in the garden. Their laughter floated through the open panes, low, rich, full of something real.Love, she thought. Not the fluttering kind. The kind that endures. She lifted her phone with trembling fingers, trying to steady her breath. "Hold still," she whispered, smiling as she captured the moment. Alejandro had his arm protectively draped around Zenith, both of them radiant, caught mid-laughter, with the sun behind them like a divine blessing.Her heart swelled. It had been years since she had seen her daughter like this, free, safe, and most importantly, seen. She posted the photo with a simple caption:“My daughter. My heart. Her forever.” Moments. #family #blessed She meant it.She did not know what it was about Alejandro, there was a calmness to him, a qu