All Chapters of Alpha’s Enemy, Alpha’s Mate: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

A month passed.The world pretended to heal.The news spoke of reconstruction, of “technological malfunctions” and “power anomalies” now under control. The Council’s name was whispered like a superstition—something half-remembered, half-denied. And through it all, Aiden and Dante lived quietly by a lake that didn’t care about the world’s lies.The cabin was small, rough-edged, half-forgotten by time. The porch creaked when the wind shifted. The lake glimmered like a mirror on clear mornings and roared like a wounded beast when storms came. Dante said he liked it because it was real—unforgiving, unpredictable, honest.Aiden liked it because it was far away.Far from the towers. Far from Julian’s voice. Far from the version of himself he didn’t fully understand.Every morning, Dante was up before dawn, chopping wood or fixing something that didn’t need fixing. He moved like he was made of sunlight and muscle, sweat shining across his shoulders. Aiden pretended to read, but his eyes were

Dawn found them still in the valley.The fires were gone, but the air hadn’t forgotten them. It held the metallic taste of burnt circuits and blood, and when Aiden breathed in, it scraped his throat like static. The snow had turned to gray slush, flecked with ash. Nothing moved except the wind.Dante sat beside him, silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His hands were raw from fighting, knuckles split and healing slowly. Aiden watched the small tremor in them—something Dante would never admit to.“You ever think it’s finally over?” Aiden asked quietly.Dante didn’t look away from the horizon. “No.”“That’s comforting.”“It’s honest.”Aiden smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The silence between them was thick, heavy with everything they hadn’t said since the fight. When he’d connected to Julian, he’d seen things—memories, fragments of a world built on control and fear. But he’d also seen something else. A mirror of himself.Julian had meant it as an insult, but it stuck: Yo

By the time they reached the coast, the world felt wrong again. It wasn’t obvious at first. Just the small things — radios crackling with half-formed words, phone screens flickering even when powered off, and the faint metallic smell that followed every gust of sea wind. Dante noticed the change in Aiden before the machines did. The way his hand trembled when he reached for the door handle. The way his pulse slowed, like something else was keeping time inside him. They checked into a run-down port inn, the kind where no one asked names and the sea drowned out the sound of questions. The floorboards creaked, the wallpaper peeled, and the air was heavy with the scent of salt. It was perfect for hiding. Except Aiden wasn’t hiding anymore. He was changing. ⸻ That night, Dante woke to the sound of whispering. He reached instinctively for his knife, scanning the shadows. The room was dark, but Aiden was standing by the window again, his back to him. The glow from the lighthouse

The sound hit first — a sharp crack of glass, then the slow hiss of electricity dying.The warehouse plunged into darkness. Only the rain outside moved, whispering against the windows like static. The air smelled of burnt metal and ozone.Dante’s gun was up before he even breathed. His eyes darted through the black, ears straining. He could hear footsteps — soft, measured. Aiden’s.“Aiden,” he called quietly. “Talk to me.”No answer.He moved forward slowly, boots crunching over shattered glass. The faint glow of a dying monitor flickered near the back wall, silver light painting the floor. Aiden stood in front of it, unmoving.The reflection on the screen moved first.“Don’t,” Dante said sharply. “Whatever’s happening, fight it.”Aiden turned his head. His eyes were silver again, brighter than before — not glowing, but alive, swirling with code that pulsed like thought.“I told you,” Aiden whispered. “He’s learning.”Dante kept his weapon steady, voice low. “You’re stronger than him.

The morning after the storm was the kind of quiet that felt staged—too neat, too deliberate.Seabirds traced low arcs across the gray water. The air smelled clean, scrubbed of static. The world had the fragile calm of something catching its breath.Aiden sat on the porch of the cottage, blanket around his shoulders, staring at the sea that had nearly swallowed him. Every few seconds, he flexed his fingers to feel the warmth of sunlight on his skin. It reminded him he was still human—or close enough.Inside, Dante clanged dishes louder than necessary.“Coffee or tea?” he called.“Whichever doesn’t taste like salt,” Aiden said.“Coffee it is.”When Dante stepped outside with two steaming mugs, he found Aiden already smiling. “You make it sound domestic,” Aiden teased.“Don’t ruin it,” Dante said, sitting beside him. He handed over the mug and added, “You look almost peaceful.”“I think that’s called shock.”“Then stay shocked for a while.”For a long minute, they said nothing. The horiz