All Chapters of A Dorm With My Alpha Mate : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Kai's POVI watched Sylvie walk away from Alistair's body, her face a mask of emptiness that scared me more than any expression of grief ever could. She didn't look back. Didn't spare the corpse a single glance. She just walked, blade still dripping, toward the far end of the hall where shadows pooled against the stone."Sylvie." I called after her. "Where are you going?""To see what else he left behind." Her voice was flat. Hollow. "There will be cells. Prisoners. He always kept prisoners."I looked back at the body one more time. Alistair. Dead. After everything—the years of terror, the attacks on our pack, the cage he'd kept my sister in for eleven years—he was just a corpse on the floor. Blood pooling. Eyes staring at nothing.It didn't feel like victory.I caught up to Sylvie in three long strides. "Wait. We'll go together."She didn't argue and didn't even acknowledge me at all. Just kept walking.The keep opened into a narrow corridor lined with doors—storage rooms, maybe, or

Finn's POVThe column stretched out behind me, a ragged line of exhausted wolves moving through grey dawn light. We'd been walking for hours, though it felt like days. The stronghold was a smudge of smoke on the horizon behind us, and ahead, nothing but trees and hills and the long road home.I walked near the middle, where I could see most of the pack without having to turn my head. It was a habit from the academy—always position yourself where you can observe. Aria had taught us that. She'd taught us a lot of things.Speaking of Aria, she walked ahead with Kai, her father between them, supporting him when he stumbled. Her face was closed, focused on the next step and the next. She hadn't spoken to him since their conversation by the wall. Not that I'd heard, anyway. But she hadn't left him either. That counted for something.Behind me, Kira and Mira walked with Koren between them. Koren had taken a wound during the fighting—nothing serious, but it had bled more than it should have,

Malrick's POVThe stone was cold under my palms, I liked it like that anywayI stood on the wall, alone, staring out at the darkness beyond our borders. The night was quiet—too quiet, maybe, after everything that had happened. The kind of quiet that made your skin prickle and your hand reach for a blade that was already there.Behind me, the pack slept. Or tried to. I could hear them through the open windows of the hall—the soft sounds of exhausted rest, the occasional moan from the wounded, the murmur of someone talking in their sleep. They'd earned their rest. Fought hard, bled hard, lost friends and found fathers and somehow kept moving forward.I should have been among them, should have found a corner, closed my eyes, let the exhaustion take me but every time I tried, something pulled me back, a prickly feeling I just couldn't shake off Something wasn't over.I didn't know what. Alistair was dead—I'd seen the body, watched them burn it with the others. His forces were scattered,

Bren's POVThe memory hit me like a blade between the ribs.One moment I was floating in that grey space where nothing existed—no pain, no fear, no thought. The next, I was drowning in images I'd buried so deep I thought they'd never surface.But they did. They always do.I saw the house first. Small, wooden, smoke rising from the chimney. My mother—my adopted mother, I knew now—stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, smiling at something my father had said. My little sister chased a chicken across the yard, her laughter bright as bells.I was there too. Small. Maybe six years old. Sitting on the steps, whittling a stick with a knife my father had given me for my birthday.It was ordinary. Perfect. The kind of moment you don't appreciate until it's gone.And then it was gone.Horses. Thunder in the distance, becoming louder. My father's face changing—smile fading, eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, putting himself between the approaching wolves and his family.There were

Malrick's POVSleep had finally come, heavy and dreamless, pulling me under after hours of staring at the dark and feeling the wrongness press against my chest. I'd surrendered to it reluctantly, knowing I needed rest, knowing tomorrow would bring whatever it brought.I didn't expect it to bring a blade.The pain woke me before my eyes could open. White-hot, shocking, tearing through the fog of sleep like lightning through clouds. Something cold and sharp buried itself in my shoulder—deep, so deep I felt it scrape against bone.My eyes opened and Bren stood over me.His face was a mask of rage and grief and something else—something broken that had finally shattered. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but his eyes were dry, burning with a hatred so pure it took my breath away. The blade in his hand dripped with my blood."You," he breathed. I opened my mouth to speak—to say something, anything—but he was already moving again. The blade rose, caught the faint light from the dying embers,