All Chapters of The Alpha's executioner: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

ELARA'S POVThe door closes behind him.I stand there for a moment, heart pounding against my ribs. Then I let out a breath. Slow. Controlled.The anger drains from my face. The tears stop. I walk to the mirror and look at myself.That was close.I turn away. Start picking up my clothes from the floor. Folding them. Putting them away. Calm. Methodical. Like nothing happened.My hands aren't shaking anymore.I think about his face. The way he pulled back from me. The way he looked at me like he didn't recognize me.Good. Let him be confused. Let him wonder. Let him be scared of me.I finish with the clothes. Sit on the edge of the bed. Lie back. Stare at the ceiling.He doesn't suspect. Not really. He's just... uncomfortable.I run through the conversation again. Every word. Every look.He asked if I killed her. He actually asked.But his voice cracked when he said it. He didn't want to believe it. He was looking for me to tell him he was wrong.And I didn't.I got angry. I deflected.

ELARA'S POVI wake up slow, like honey dripping off a spoon. My body is heavy in the best way, every muscle loose and warm and aching just enough to remind me of everything that happened. I stretched my arms above my head, arched my back against the mattress, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. My legs are sore. My hips are sore. Even my lips feel swollen and tender. I like it. I like all of it.I yawned, rolled onto my side, and then I remembered. The massage. The food. The way he undressed. The things he said to me. His mouth between my legs. His hands on my waist. The way he moved inside me like he was trying to crawl into my bones and live there.I giggled to myself, face half buried in the pillow. Oh my god. I loved all of it. Every single second. I didn't know I could still feel like that. Didn't know my body could still respond to him like that after everything he's done. But it did. And I don't hate myself for it. Not yet. Not right now.I roll onto my back and stare at the c

ELARA'S POVI stand in the doorway and watch.Kael doesn't look at me. His attention is all on Clinton, on the blade in his hand, on the way the light catches the edge. He turns it slowly, almost admiring it. The metal gleams. Clean. Sharp. Hungry.Like my husband.The trackers are still in the room. They haven't left yet. They're standing against the wall, arms crossed, faces tight. They don't know what's coming. Neither do I. Not really. Not yet.Clinton is on his knees. His hands are tied behind his back. His face is swollen from where the Beta slammed his head against the table. Blood drips from his nose onto his shirt. His eyes are wild. His chest heaves.Kael crouches down in front of him. His voice is soft. Almost gentle."Let's remove this."He reaches for the gag. Unties it. Pulls it from Clinton's mouth.Clinton gasps. Sucks in air like he's been drowning. His lips are cracked. Split. Bleeding."Please," he chokes out. "Please, Alpha. I didn't send those messages. I swear o

ELARA'S POV The fire is out. The ashes are cold. Kael finally releases the pack, and the crowd disperses like ghosts scattering at dawn. No one speaks. No one looks at anyone. They just move, silent and hollow, back to their homes, back to their lives, back to whatever pieces of themselves they still have left. I carry Zev to the car. He's asleep against my shoulder, his face pressed into my neck, his breath warm and small. His cheeks are still wet from crying. I don't wipe the tears away. I don't want to wake him. I don't want him to open his eyes and see the world again. Lucan walks beside me, holding my hand. His grip is tight. Too tight. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't ask questions. He just stares ahead, at the ground, at the car, at nothing. His face is pale. His eyes are empty. He's eight years old and he watched two girls burn to death and he didn't scream. He didn't cry. He just stood there, frozen, like a soldier who's seen too much too young. I want to tell him

RONAN'S POVI waited for hours.The files were spread across my table, every piece of information I had gathered, every name, every date, every connection I had traced while she was gone. I read through them again. Then again. Then I just stared at them, waiting for the knock that wouldn't come.The sun went down. The room got dark. I turned on a lamp.Still nothing.My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. The adrenaline from her call had worn off, leaving behind nothing but hunger and the heavy weight of knowing she was out there somewhere, hurting, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.I stood up. Walked to the kitchen.I needed to do something with my hands. Something that wasn't pacing or checking my phone or staring at the door.I opened the fridge. Looked inside. Eggs. Chicken. Vegetables. Some rice I'd cooked a few days ago. I pulled everything out and set it on the counter.I didn't know if she was coming. But I prepared for two anyway. A meal for a hungry man.