All Chapters of Breed me Raw, Alpha : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The night outside Genesis was still, almost unnaturally so. No alarms, no roars of serum-mad alphas, no Council enforcers stalking us in the shadows. For the first time in months, silence enveloped us. But the quiet did little to soothe the raw ache thrumming in my body, the ache of want, of need, of Damian. He stood close, his towering frame radiating heat, muscles tense under the light of the moon streaming through the estate’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Even after everything, the pit, the betrayal, the blood and madness, I still felt tethered to him. Not by chains, not by fear, but by desire. “You’re staring,” Damian growled, voice low, dark, and dangerous. I jumped slightly as he took a step closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. His eyes, those piercing gray eyes, were locked on mine, and every inch of me knew exactly what they promised. “I…” I swallowed, words failing me. The sight of him, the heat radiating off him, the memory of how he had claimed me over and over i

I woke with Damian’s arm locked around my waist, his palm spread over my stomach like he was guarding something fragile and priceless. The room smelled like him, clean heat, iron, and something darker that never left his skin no matter how many showers he took. Safety. Possession. Danger. All wrapped into one man. The twins shifted inside me, subtle this time, like a warning instead of a greeting. I sucked in a breath and Damian stirred immediately. “Talk to me,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. Older. Grounded. The kind of voice that didn’t ask often because it didn’t have to. “They’re moving,” I whispered. His hand stilled, then tightened slightly, reverent. “Good,” he said. “Strong.” I should have felt comforted. I did feel comforted. And terrified at the same time. Because everything between us had tipped into something that didn’t resemble balance anymore. It was hunger layered on obsession layered on grief and survival. And I wasn’t sure where love fit into it, or if it even

The air in the estate was thick with a tension that couldn’t be ignored, a heat that wasn’t just the lingering summer sun but something deeper, darker, and irrevocable. Every step I took, every breath I drew, reminded me that the twins were gone. My body ached from the loss, not only for them but for the part of me that had hoped for a future I could never reclaim. Yet even in that grief, an inescapable pull toward Damian remained, stronger than ever. He was already waiting in the main hall, older and imposing, his frame a constant shield. He didn’t speak as I approached, but the weight of his presence pressed against my chest. It was demanding, possessive, like he was already claiming me before the words had a chance to leave my lips. I stopped a few feet away, heart hammering. The estate was silent except for the soft hum of air purifiers and the faint echo of distant footsteps, Chloe prowling somewhere, plotting, brooding, seething. I could feel it in the way her gaze lingered even

The first time Damian took me into his office after everything, it wasn’t for work. I knew that the moment the doors sealed behind us and the outside world vanished into silence. The room was all glass and steel and shadow, the kind of place where power lived and breathed. His desk sat like a throne at the center, untouched, immaculate, control made tangible. I stood just inside the doorway, pulse racing, heart heavy with everything we had lost and everything we still refused to give up. Damian didn’t speak right away. He loosened his cufflinks slowly, deliberately, like he was buying himself time to stay composed. When he finally turned to face me, his eyes softened in a way that didn’t happen often. “You don’t belong hiding in bedrooms anymore,” he said quietly. “Not after what you survived.” I swallowed. “So where do I belong?” His gaze held mine, unwavering. “Here. Where you can be seen.” The words wrapped around me, tight and intimate in a way that had nothing to do with touch. I

The first sign that Chloe was done pretending came at breakfast. She didn’t shout. She didn’t throw anything. She didn’t even look at me. She sat across the table from Damian, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, and spoke as if I wasn’t there at all. “I’ve decided to move back into the east wing,” she said calmly. “It’s more… appropriate.” Damian paused mid-motion, coffee cup hovering just short of his lips. “Appropriate for what?” “For distance,” Chloe replied. “This house is too crowded with misunderstandings.” I almost laughed. Instead, I kept my eyes on my plate, cutting fruit I had no intention of eating. Damian set the cup down slowly. “You don’t need to exile yourself.” “I’m not,” she said coolly. “I’m setting boundaries. Something we clearly lack.” I looked up then, unable to help myself. “Boundaries you only seem to need now?” Her gaze snapped to me, sharp and flint-hard. “This conversation isn’t for you.” Damian’s chair scraped back. “Every conversation that conce