All Chapters of The Good Girl's Revenge: Using the Alpha: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Syria’s POV“What?”That was the first word that came out of his mouth. He looked at me like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. His eyes were wide, searching my face for any hint that I might be lying. I met his gaze directly, refusing to back down.I swallowed hard and reached for the collar of my shirt. My fingers trembled as I pulled the fabric down to reveal the dark bruise wrapped around my neck like a collar.“He almost killed me,” I said. My throat still hurt when I swallowed, as if the memory of his hands was enough to make me feel them again. “See this? He did this to me. He strangled me.”For a split second, I saw something violent flash in my uncle’s eyes, something raw and murderous that made my stomach twist. His face went red with rage, and when he spoke again, his voice echoed through the entire hall.“Guards!” he roared.The air seemed to vibrate with the force of his anger. I wasn’t surprised by his reaction, but it still made me tense all over. Almost immedi

Syria’s POVThe chaos had finally died down. The shouting, the scuffling, the confusion…it was all over, leaving behind only a heavy, suffocating silence that pressed against my chest. My heart was still racing when my uncle came closer to me.He reached out and gently took my hand. I could feel how cold his skin was against mine, how steady he was while I trembled all over. He started rubbing small circles on my knuckles, like he was trying to soothe me. I could see the way he forced his face to look worried, pretending that he actually cared about how shattered I was over losing my grandmother.“I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he said quietly, eyes narrowed just enough to look sincere. “It was just an accident. You know that, right? I never meant for any of this to happen. I didn’t kill her. I would never do that.”My stomach twisted as I listened to his lies. The guilt he tried to mimic in his tone didn’t fool me for a second. “Stop manipulating me…”I tried to pull m

Syria’s POV“No. No…”He was on top of me, holding me down. I could barely breathe from how sick I felt about everything he was doing to me.“You’re so damn stubborn, aren’t you?” He sound almost amused as if he enjoyed watching me struggle. My heart was hammering in my chest when he grabbed my wrist in a sudden, bruising grip.Without warning, he started dragging me out of the bedroom, my feet scraping across the cold floor.“Where are you taking me?!” I shouted at him, my voice hoarse and shaking.“To the dark chambers,” he spat. “A place where you fucking belong because you never learn how to listen!”“No! Stop!” I begged, my throat raw from yelling. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even look at me. It was like I was invisible, like none of my pleas could ever matter to him.When we finally reached the chamber, I almost gagged from the stench.The air reeked of piss, vomit, and something rotten I couldn’t even name. It was dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb overhea

Kael’s POVI decided to go home.There was no use staying in the house I once called my escape. It used to give me peace. Privacy, silence, and freedom. But ever since Syria and I broke up, everything had gone numb.Every day felt like a loop I couldn’t break free from. It was empty, meaningless, and hollow. The things I once cared about? They didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.And now, I was here again, standing in the main hall of our family’s palace. The walls were still the same. Tall, imposing, and cold. Nothing had changed... except me.“Welcome home, Lord Kael,” one of the butlers greeted.I didn’t look at him. Didn’t nod, didn’t speak. I just walked past, ignoring the formality like it meant nothing. My feet led me toward the private bar tucked into the corner of the grand room. A sleek island counter with shelves full of expensive liquor.I needed a drink. No, what I really needed was to forget. I wanted to drown in tequila and champagne until I couldn’t feel the ache

Syria’s POVI thought we were finally leaving.But no. They had only finished dressing me.“Call in the makeup artist,” the lead servant instructed.Without hesitation, the other maids rushed out. Moments later, they returned with a woman I hadn’t seen before. She looked polished and efficient, followed closely by two assistants dragging heavy black cases full of makeup and styling tools.“You’ll take care of her,” the servant said, stepping aside. “Sir Steven said she must look proper. Presentable.”The makeup artist nodded. “Of course. Leave it to us.”They guided me to a cushioned chair in front of a large vanity mirror, its frame lit with bright bulbs that made the room glow. As I sat down, a knot formed in my stomach. The mirror reflected a girl I barely recognized.Lipsticks. Powders. Shadows. Rows of colors and brushes lined up like weapons. All of it meant to perfect me, polish me, for an arrangement I didn’t choose.To someone I didn’t love. Someone I didn’t even want to see.