The Alpha King Is Our Daddy의 모든 챕터: 챕터 61 - 챕터 70

Vincent’s POVThe report from Rowan should have settled me. It didn’t.She agreed. Dr. Lean…doesn’t talk much, always hidden behind her scarves. She had accepted the proposal of joint treatment. Rowan relayed her words with his usual stiff precision, but I couldn’t stop thinking about them. According to Rowan she hadn’t argued, she hadn’t fought. She just agreed.And that unsettled me more than refusal ever would.I told myself it was only duty that pushed me to reach for the number she had provided. Courtesy demanded I thank her directly. Gratitude for Myra’s relief. That was all.But when my thumb hovered over the digits, unease stirred. Something about the string of numbers felt off, as though I’d read it before in a report on falsified registrations. My instincts rarely lied, so I checked.The number wasn’t hers. The registration traced back to someone else entirely—an older man living far from here, a man who couldn’t possibly be the same physician who bandaged my daughter’s knee

Vincent’s POVThe steak had barely touched the table before chaos began.Three pairs of eyes blinked up at me, forks clenched in small fists, knives skidding uselessly against meat far too tough for them.Elijah, solemn as always, pressed down harder, his jaw tight, the blade squeaking across the plate without leaving so much as a mark. Caleb hunched close, curls nearly dipping into the sauce, frowning at his steak as if he could puzzle it apart by sheer will. And Myra—my little star—stabbed hers again and again, cheeks puffed, a tiny huff escaping each time the stubborn slice refused to break.“Daddy, it won’t cut,” she complained, her lips jutting into a pout.For a moment, I just watched them—three determined children waging war with dinner as if the battle might be won through persistence alone.I’d seen wars calmer than this dinner table. But three kids were losing to one piece of steak.Something in the sight broke through my composure, tugging an unwilling laugh from me. It rum

Adeline’s POVThe moment Vincent’s body hit the stone, Myra’s scream tore the garden apart.“Daddy!”Her small hands clawed at my coat, her eyes wide with terror. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but she understood enough to know it was bad. She dropped to her knees beside him, sobbing so hard her little shoulders shook.“Myra,” I caught her by the arms and turned her toward the waiting carriage. “Listen to me. You must get inside, now.”“But Daddy…”“No.” My voice cracked sharper than I intended, but I forced it steady. “You’ll be safe there. The guards will stay with you.”Tears streaked her face, but she nodded when she heard the edge in my tone. I gestured quickly to the nearest soldiers. “Take her. Keep her in the carriage. Do not let her come back out.”They bowed and lifted her gently away. Her cries still echoed, twisting a knife into me as I turned back to the man collapsed on the ground.Myra’s cries muffled through the carriage door. Each sob rattled through me

Adeline’s POVThe night stretched endless, and with it came the fire.I had thought I could fight it…bite down, bury myself beneath the quilt, wait for it to pass like a fever. But rut doesn’t pass. It doesn’t forgive. It eats you alive from the inside, scorching every nerve until all you are is ache and need.My thighs clenched, my hips grinding against the sheets before I could stop them. The wetness between my legs clung, hot and humiliating, soaking through the thin linen. I shoved a hand down, desperate, my fingers parting my folds, rubbing furiously against my swollen clit. Relief should have come fast, hard, shattering. Instead, every circle only sharpened the ache, every press making the hunger worse. My body bucked into my own hand, chasing what it refused to give me.A sob ripped out of me. My fingers slipped lower, sliding inside, pumping fast and rough, curling against the walls of my heat. The stretch wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. My other hand clawed at my breast, t

Vincent’s POVThe pain came like a blade, jolting me out of sleep.One moment the night was quiet—curtains drawn, the faint smell of lavender oil hanging in the air. The next, I was gasping, pain tearing through my chest so sharp it dragged me out of sleep. I lurched upright, clutching at my ribs as if I could dig the ache out with my own hands.I knew this feeling. I would know it even in death.The bond.Not the fragile threads of loyalty I tied to my pack. Not the brittle obligations to throne or bloodline. This was deeper. Sharper. It cut to the marrow, branding me from the inside out. The mate bond.And it wasn’t mine.It was hers.Adeline.The pain shuddering through me didn’t belong to my body—it belonged to hers. Every nerve screamed with the echo of what she was enduring. Heat. Unyielding. Crushing. My wolf snarled awake inside me, pacing, restless, maddened by her suffering.She’s burning. She’s in rut.I dragged my palm down my face, the sweat already dampening my temples.