All Chapters of Whispers of Loyalty: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

ALANAI wake before dawn, sore in places I didn’t know could ache and warm all over from the weight still draped across my hips.Zach’s palm has migrated in the night, fingertips curled possessively over the bruise he left on my thigh.It should sting.Instead it hums, a dark, deep-rooted reminder that for one impossible hour last night I wasn’t a weapon, a daughter, or a provisional monarch.I was his.The realization shouldn’t comfort me but it does.Because the bruise tells a truth I rarely allow myself: power does not disappear the moment I yield.Last night I gave him the reins and discovered I could still breathe, still burn, still rule.I think I needed that lesson more than I knew.I slip from under his arm, careful not to wake him. The compound is hushed, corridors lit only by emergency sconces.In the bathroom mirror I find fresh marks: thumb-shadows at my waist, a neat red half-moon on my clavicle where he bit down when I said harder.An unexpected heat curls low in my bell

ALANARoman’s office has been sealed for months.The last time I stood outside it, my hand hovered over the knob for ten whole minutes before I walked away. It was too heavy then, too full of ghosts and expectations. Too full of him.But now? Now I don’t hesitate.I unlock the door with the key Sorrel gave me this morning, twist it open, and step into the last room where Roman was king.It smells like dust, gun oil, and old ambition. The curtains are drawn. The desk is pristine. Everything is exactly as he left it - perfectly curated, perfectly dangerous.And for the first time in my life, I don’t see it as sacred. I see it as mine.The Veronin name was carved into the foundation of this empire long before I was born, long before my father inherited it. I used to think it was just a myth, another tale stitched into the fabric of violence. But the deeper I stepped into these halls, the more I understood. This wasn’t just an empire. It was bloodline, and I was standing at the center of

ALANAThe air in the east atrium is thick with tension.No windows. No exits behind them. Just six of the most territorial, violent men left in Roman’s fractured empire and me.They’re all watching me, trying to figure out what kind of leader I’ll be now that Roman’s blood is dry and mine is on the throne.It’s silent until I say the words. Calm. Sharp. Unmistakable.“On your knees.”One sentence. That’s it. And still, they hesitate. Because they’re not used to taking orders from women. Especially not young ones. Especially not Roman’s daughter.But I’m not just his daughter anymore.I’m his fucking replacement.They shift in place, arms crossed, eyes twitching. The room smells like leather, gun oil, and fear masked behind ego. They’re measuring me, weighing whether it’s worth pushing back.“First one to kneel keeps his territory,” I add, voice level. “Last one? We cut his supply chain and bleed his name off the map.”Wren Malko moves first.He’s smarter than he looks. Sharp eyes. Gre

ALANARoman’s private office was never just a room. It was a damn fortress.No one came in here unless summoned. No one touched his desk. No one breathed too loudly near the safe behind the wall.When I was younger, I used to press my ear to the door and pretend I could hear the secrets he buried in here. But even the walls didn’t dare whisper.And now?Now I’m the one turning the key.It clicks with a sharp metallic groan, like the door is warning me one last time before I cross into his domain.The air inside hits like ice. Cold. Sharp. Stale.Smells like old cigars, gun oil, and some type of leather cleaner no one uses anymore.The lights hum when I flick them on. Everything is black and steel. Clinical. Minimalist. No bullshit.A black desk sits against the wall, surgical in its neatness. Two chairs no one was ever invited to sit in. A shelf lined with files labeled in Roman’s brutal shorthand.No family photos. No pictures of me. No reminders that he was anything other than what

ALANAI haven’t opened it in three days. Not since the night I couldn’t sleep and traced my fingers over my father’s scrawled notes like they might bleed into me, his thoughts, his warnings, his rot.There are pages missing. Torn clean from the spine. And what’s left? Is worse than I expected.Names. Symbols. Connections that don’t make sense until you really look. And I did. I looked. I saw. And now I can’t unsee it.One of them, the ones I’ve trusted to rebuild this empire with me, is bleeding us out.But the problem is… I loved them once. Not the way I love Zach. But it still matters. Because love like that? It doesn’t fade. It just curdles. And now it’s curdled into suspicion so thick it coats the back of my throat like ash.He hasn’t said it. But I know he knows. That I’m not fully here. That something is keeping me tethered to the past while we try to build a future.He tries to hide it behind kisses, behind long nights where his mouth maps every inch of my body like he’s trying