All Chapters of The Cursed Alpha’s Only Mate: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Hecate POV The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls of the royal chambers. The room was warm, intimate, the candles burning low, their flames flickering like tiny stars in the darkness. Outside, the castle was quiet, the celebrations winding down, the guests retreating to their rooms after the long day of revelry. But here, in this room, the night was just beginning. Maddox lay on the bed, propped on his elbows, watching me with hungry eyes. He had already shed his coat and shirt, his bare chest gleaming in the firelight, the scars that marked his body visible in the soft glow. His golden eyes followed my every movement as I stood in the dressing room, my back to him, my hands working the laces of my gown. "From the duel today, what lesson should we take?" he asked, his voice low, teasing. "That it is worth fighting for true love?" I paused, my fingers stilling on the laces. "That depends on perspective," I called back, keeping my voice ligh

Hecate POV The morning light was pale and cold, filtering through the narrow windows of the castle's lower level. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and distant woodsmoke, the kind of morning that felt like a fresh start even when the weight of the past pressed heavy on your shoulders. Hecate stood in the courtyard, her arms wrapped around Tori, holding her close for what might be the last time. Tori's body was warm against hers, familiar and solid, a reminder of all the years they had spent together. The years of hiding, of running, of surviving. The years when they had been each other's only comfort, only ally, only family. The years when the world had been against them, and they had clung to each other like the last two leaves on a dying tree. Hecate had treated Tori's wounds herself, applying salves and bandages to the raw marks on her wrists where the ropes had bitten. She had healed the cuts on her ankles, the bruises on her shoulders, the deep ache in her heart t

Elsie POV The studio was warm, too warm, the fire crackling in the hearth and the scent of dried herbs hanging heavy in the air. Elsie paced back and forth across the worn stone floor, her boots echoing with each step, her hands clasped behind her back. She could not stand still. She could not sit. Every muscle in her body was coiled with tension, every thought consumed by the same desperate question. How could she escape? Her mother sat in the corner, her grey gown pooling around her, her pale eyes watchful. Nyra had not spoken since they arrived, but her presence was a constant weight, a reminder that she knew everything and said nothing. Ysabella worked at the long wooden table, her hands moving with practiced ease as she ground dried herbs into a fine powder. She had been helping Hecate with her preparations, but her attention kept drifting to Elsie, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. Hecate sat near Nyra, her legs crossed, her expression thoughtful. She watched Elsie pace, h

Hecate POV The door slammed shut behind Elsie, and the silence that followed was thick enough to cut. I stared at the wooden frame for a long moment, listening to the echo of her footsteps fading down the corridor. She was angry. Desperate. Determined. I recognized the fire in her eyes because I had seen it in my own reflection more times than I cared to count. Nyra let out a long, slow breath, the kind that carried the weight of years. She sank back into her chair, her pale eyes fixed on the door, her expression unreadable. "She has so much to learn," she said, her voice soft but heavy. "So much to understand." I turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do not be too hard on her. She is young. The young do foolish things. It is part of growing up." Nyra's gaze shifted to me, sharp and assessing. "I remember when you were that young. Foolish. Headstrong. Do you remember?" I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I remember falling in love with a monster. I remember kn

Emrich POV The nursery was dark when Emrich finally climbed the stairs, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. He paused at the doorway, listening to the soft rhythm of his daughter's breathing, the occasional murmur of a dream. Aileen was curled in her bed, her small hand still clutching the corner of her blanket, her face peaceful in sleep. The sight of her filled him with a warmth that eased some of the tension in his chest. He closed the door softly and walked to the master chamber. Ysabella lay on the bed, her back to him, her silhouette outlined by the moonlight. He could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was not sleeping. She was too still, too rigid, the tension in her body a clear sign that she was wide awake and waiting. He could practically feel the weight of her anger from across the room. Emrich crossed the room slowly, his footsteps careful on the wooden floor. He shed his coat and climbed into bed beside her, pre