All Chapters of Alpha’s Little Plaything : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Loriah’s PoV When we exited the hotel, the flashes hit like a thousand suns. Reporters shouted questions I didn’t hear, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. Fans craned for a glimpse, phones raised high. Security formed a solid wall around us as Greg protected my arm, ushering me forward. Claire and Brea stayed close, their presence a shield against the storm. “Keep moving!” Claire barked, weaving through the crowd. My heels clicked sharply on the pavement, each step measured, each breath deliberate. I had learned to navigate this world, but nothing had prepared me for the tension in my chest. Cameras followed us relentlessly, flashes painting my red hair in stark contrast against my dark gown. Every question went unanswered, every phone captured a moment I didn’t want immortalized. Finally, we reached the car, a sleek, armored luxury vehicle. The doors closed, creating a bubble of silence that instantly dulled my pounding pulse. I slumped slightly against the seat, lettin

Marla’s PoV Marla lounged in her parents’ opulent estate, the velvet armchair swallowing her slender frame as Rebecca, her lifelong nanny, combed through her golden hair. Whenever she needed to bask in attention—or scheme—this was where she came. “How did that mere human become so rich and adored?” I groaned, glaring at the mirror. Rebecca’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. “You’ll have to get rid of her again if Alpha Draco refuses to let her go.” I rolled my eyes, frustrated. “It’s not as easy this time, Becca. She’s famous. The public worships her.” “The public only worships illusions,” Rebecca replied smoothly, pulling the brush through my hair. “It’s the image they love. Tear that down, and she crumbles.” I smiled, slow and cruel, the kind of smile Rebecca had nurtured in me since childhood. “You’re right. I’ll destroy Elara Dane until she sheds that armor and is forced back into being Loriah Dee—the pathetic girl from the slums.” A laugh bubbled out of me, sharp and

Draco’s PoV The moment Greg whisked her away, something inside me snapped. I had been calm and controlled, the perfect façade of the composed CEO, but now—fire roared through my veins. She was there, in my sight, yet unreachable, slipping away behind that shield of bodyguards and professional distance. Every instinct in me—every pull, every growl—screamed to reach her. I didn’t care about etiquette, the cameras, or the whispers. Nothing mattered except getting to her and understanding why she still haunted me after five years. My chest tightened, my pulse hammered, and I realized how powerless I was to the one human who had always held my heart, even without knowing it. The city lights blurred as I strode toward the exit, my mind racing through possibilities, strategies, excuses, anything that would put me back by her side. As I caught a glimpse of her retreating figure, my wolf—silent until now—stirred, a shadow of fury and longing warning me I would not let her vanish again.

The door shut in my face with a finality cut deeper than claws. The click of the lock echoed in my skull, a wall between us I couldn’t tear down—not without losing her forever. I pressed my palm against the wood, closing my eyes. My chest still burned from the scent of her, from the way her body had responded even as her words cut me down. She hated me for what I’d done in the past—and gods help me, I hated myself more. I hadn’t meant to touch her. I swore I’d only talk, only explain. But the moment I saw her fresh from the shower, wrapped in a damp towel, her skin glistening, every instinct I had—wolf, human, and Alpha—screamed. I had to stop myself before I became the man she despised. A sharp inhale reminded me that I was breathing and still myself. Control. Restraint. She needed to feel safe, and I had just shattered that. I pulled back, letting the heavy silence fill the room. Her laughter, her tears, the ache in her chest—all of it was mine now to carry, to atone for. N

Nora’s PoV The girls continued to ask questions as they ate the pasta with gusto, their laughter and curiosity filling the loft like sunlight. I watched them, as I had since they were children, and pride welled in me until it almost ached. Since they were little girls, I knew they were destined for greatness—and they had not disappointed. One had risen as an international star, her voice across the world. The other, a formidable lawyer, was feared and respected equally. I remembered when they first left the nest, bright-eyed and naive. The first thing I did was take them to get birth control—harsh, perhaps, but necessary. With their beauty, men circled them like predators, and I would not allow them to become prey. Neither of them knew—what no one at the orphanage ever suspected—was the truth of their beginning. Both of them had been brought to us the same month, barely weeks old, as if fate had delivered them into my care. But these were not ordinary children. I was not plac