All Chapters of The Alpha's Ex Is Back With A Son: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Jerry’s POV__________________________________I can’t sleep. The mansion’s dead quiet, like it’s scared to make a sound. My room’s pitch-black, but my eyes catch everything—the rough grain of my wooden door, moonlight cutting through the curtains like a knife. My heart’s pounding, still messed up from dinner. Mom’s voice keeps ringing in my head, sharp and desperate: He’s not your soldier! Dad’s was cold, like I’m some tool he’s gotta sharpen: He needs to be ready. I hate how they talk about me like I’m not sitting right there. But what’s worse is this voice in my head, one that ain’t mine. Vasilias Lykaon. It’s been louder since school, whispering every time I try to shut my eyes. It’s like a fishhook, yanking me somewhere dark.I kick off my blankets and sit up, my bare feet hitting the cold floor. My wolf’s wide awake, scratching inside me, hungry for something. That locked door in the mansion—the one with the creepy wolf symbol carved into it—won’t leave me alone. I saw it when w

Jerry's POV __________________________________ The halls of Crescent High are a battlefield of noise and chaos, a relentless assault on my senses that makes my wolf claw at the edges of my mind. Lockers slam like gunshots, sneakers screech on scuffed linoleum, and a cloud of cheap cologne, sweat, and cafeteria grease chokes the air. My earpods blast static, a desperate attempt to drown it out, but it’s no use—my wolf picks up everything: the tang of a leaking radiator, the sour bite of someone’s spilled energy drink, the faint metallic scent of blood from a kid’s scraped knee three classrooms away. My skin feels too tight, like it’s about to split, and my heart hammers, each beat pulsing with the voice that’s haunted me since the alley. Vasilias Lykaon. It’s low, guttural, a command that vibrates in my bones: Seek. I’m at my locker, shoving textbooks in with shaking hands, trying to focus on the cold metal under my fingers. The wolf’s awake, urging me to run, to fight, to tear somet

Jerry's POV__________________________________The bell over the door jingles as I slide into the booth across from Sasha. She’s already there, leaning back with that grin that always cuts straight through me.“So, Levin Junior skips school on day two—big rebel move, or are you just allergic to algebra?” she teases, her voice sharp but light.The diner’s a dive—red vinyl seats split like old scars, the air heavy with coffee steam and fried grease. Plates clatter. A waitress laughs somewhere behind me. My wolf’s on edge, sniffing out every sound: heels on tile, a truck rumbling past outside, the heartbeat of the cook over the grill.But Sasha’s citrus scent cuts through all of it. Her dark hair’s loose around her shoulders, eyes glinting with challenge and something softer I can’t name.I rub the back of my neck, heat crawling up my face. “Rebel, obviously. Algebra’s a beast—worse than Darren.” I keep my voice low, leaning forward, feeling the weight of the stolen key in my pocket pres

DEBBY'S POV__________________________________"Jerry, do you think you can just vanish? Ignore school as if it doesn't exist?It sounds sharper than I meant. Like a slap, the sound reverberates throughout the kitchen, bouncing off of all the marble and glass. The lights, the walls, and the lingering smell of his cologne are all cold in this house. Smoke and wood. Levin. He is present even when he is not.Jerry is sitting at the island with his head down and his hood up. His fork drags through thick, cold sauce as it scrapes across the plate. He ignores me."One day, Mom," he whispers. His voice has recently changed; it is now deeper, rougher, and has an edge that was missing before. "I needed room. Crescent High is crazy.Mostly to avoid shaking, I cross my arms. "Space? Jerry, we're hiding from people who would kill us. You are not allowed to take "space."He doesn't take his eyes off the pancake. My words are instantly reflected back to him. The quiet passages are too long and heav

DEBBY’S POV__________________________________"Isn't Jerry the real alpha? The child already has the piece of bloodstone! Muffled but clear enough to keep me cold in the hallway, the guard's harsh, anxious voice pierces the heavy oak door of the mansion's war room. The air is heavy with the smell of polished wood and the subtle metallic tang of blood—Levin's pack, always holding the edge of violence—and I'm crouching in the shadows, breathing shallowly. I press my ear closer while my fingers grip the wall and my heart thuds. A real leader, my son Jerry? Reminiscent of my father's warnings about Levin's world—wolves, power, and curses—the words twist like a knife.Another voice interrupts, low and uncertain, and I believe it's Marco, Levin's enforcer. Ruth, he's a child, piece or not. Careless. Sneaking around, taking keys? Damon is circling like a hawk, and Levin is losing control.Ruth replies sharply and devotedly, "Levin has plans." "Vasilias Lykaon's line—Jerry's blood—is the key