Lahat ng Kabanata ng Reject Me, Alpha Tate: Kabanata 211 - Kabanata 220

Tate pov I pushed into her in one long, controlled stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She threw her head back against the tiles, a soft, broken moan echoing over the steady hum of the water. “Tate…”“Still so tight,” I murmured against her throat, rolling my hips in a deep, deliberate circle. “Even after I just filled you.”“Because it’s you,” she whispered, legs locking tighter. “Only you.”Water drummed against the glass. Steam curled thick around us, turning the air heavy and intimate. The scent of her fresh arousal mixed with clean water and the faint metallic note of the shower fixtures. I moved inside her with long, measured strokes—pulling out until only the head remained, then sliding back inch by inch, feeling every soft give of her body. My hands gripped her wet thighs, holding her open. Every time I angled just right, her nails dug into my shoulders and a shaky sound slipped from her lips. I kept the rhythm slow and deep, grinding against her on every inward thrust so th

Tate pov The air in the office felt heavy and suffocating. I desperately needed him to be lying. I needed him to crack, to admit this was a twisted psychological test or a ploy to break my resolve. Because if he wasn't lying—if even a fraction of this nightmare was real—then my entire existence was built on lies. "I have nothing to gain, Tate," Parkville replied softly, his weathered eyes shining with a deep, ancient grief. "Elara was my life. Luca and Viola were her friends. I didn't spend decades unraveling this trail to hurt you. I did it because the truth deserved to survive, and because you deserve to know who stripped you of your real family." He leaned forward, placing his trembling hands flat on the desk, his gaze locking onto mine with absolute, unyielding clarity. "He was not raising a son, Tate," Parkville said, his quiet voice cutting through my rage. "He was raising a trophy. The biological heir of the Alpha that was murdered by Caesar and molded into a weapon to l

Tate pov Elara had recorded her growing unease around Caesar in the weeks leading up to the slaughter: the way he positioned his own men in places that made no sense unless he was preparing for a coup, the careful distance he kept from anyone who might later connect him to trouble, and the particular attention he paid to Tracy's infertility—as though it were a strategic resource rather than a private grief."Read this part," Nicole whispered, her breath hitching as her finger moved down to a paragraph near the bottom."'He watches Tracy's empty cradle like a man waiting for a delivery,'" I read, my voice steady despite the sudden tightness in my chest. "'He tells Luca the border patrols are secure, but he moved the guards away from the west pass days ago. I intend to raise my concerns with Luca directly. If anything happens to me first, I want this account to survive me.'""She died in the ambush itself," Marlon said quietly from the window. "Alongside Luca and Viola, before she ever

Tate pov Her feet kicked uselessly against the mattress, her lips turning pale as she stared into my eyes. She saw no mercy left in me.I shoved her back into the pillows, releasing my grip.Tracy collapsed sideways, clutching her neck with both hands. She gagged, taking in huge, desperate gulps of air, coughing violently as her chest heaved. Tears spilled down her cheeks—real tears of absolute panic, not the performative ones she had shed moments ago. She huddled against the headboard, trembling as she steadied herself.I stood over her, cold and unwavering."I have one question left," I said, my voice dropping into a hollow, freezing quiet. "Did you know, from the very beginning, whose son you were raising?"Tracy looked up at me through her disheveled hair, the last piece of her innocent facade finally crumbling away into nothing."Yes," she whispered, her voice raw and ruined. "I knew every day."Her voice was a ruined, raspy thread as she clutched her neck, tears smearing acros

Nicole pov I took his cold, trembling hand. "None of that came from Caesar's blueprint, Tate. He built a weapon, not a father. You became a father in spite of him, not because of him."Tears welled in his eyes as his jaw tightened. He stared down at our joined hands in silent disbelief before sinking off the couch onto his knees in front of me."Tate," I whispered, reaching for him.He bowed his head, pressing his face into my knees. Tears streamed down his face, soaking through the fabric of my pants. His entire body shook with wracking sobs, the sound raw and broken, spilling out of him after years of silent restraint."I am so sorry, Nicole," he choked out, his voice buried in my lap. "I am so sorry for everything. I'm sorry for what I did to you.""Look at me, Tate," I said, putting my hands on either side of his wet face and lifting his head gently.Tears streamed down his cheeks in hot, endless lines, his eyes red and brimming with grief. "I hurt you for years," he sobbed, his