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All Chapters of This Time, I Choose The Alpha King Male Lead: Chapter 51 - Chapter 57

57 Chapters

FIFTY-ONE: Good Actor

MINTHEGood Actor* * * My lips collide with his, and the entire world vanishes under a wave of chaotic heat.I intended for it to be a quick, petty smash of mouth against mouth—a bitter “fuck you” directed straight at Pierre’s arrogant face.But the second my lips touch Hades’, I lose complete control of the script.Hades doesn’t just sit there like a passive target.His hand shoots up, gloved fingers tangling into the hair at the back of my head. He grips my scalp with rough, commanding force, tilting my chin back until my throat is exposed.Before I can even register the gasp escaping my lungs, Hades slams his tongue past my parted lips.It isn’t a gentle kiss. It’s aggressive, filthy, and thorough.His other arm wraps around my waist like a steel band, lifting me off his lap just enough to crush my chest against his. He tastes like bitter liquor, tobacco, and danger. He takes my mouth with a possessive hunger that makes my head spin and my knees go soft.My heart hammers ag

FIFTY-TWO: Mom

MINTHEMom* * *I wrench my wrist out of Pierre’s grip so hard the joints in my shoulder pop.“I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Pierre,” I say, voice flat and cold.Pierre’s mouth opens, a retort already forming, but before he can speak, the waltz shifts. A nervous, low-ranking noble steps between us, clearing his throat.“Uh . . . excuse me, Alpha,” the young man stammers, eyes darting between Pierre’s scowl and my stare. “It’s . . . it’s the rotation now.”Pierre looks like he wants to rip the kid’s throat out. But with dozens of elders and nobles watching, he can’t make a bigger spectacle of himself. His jaw twitches, a vein pulsing at his temple as he snaps his hand back. He casts one last warning glare at me before stepping away to find his next partner.I take the noble’s hand and force myself through three slow steps of the dance. The moment the final note fades, I drop his hand without a word.I need air.I cut through the crowd, snag a glass of wine off a passi

FIFTY-THREE: Marry Who?

MINTHEMarry Who?* * * “Who the hell picked that atrocity?” my mother, Matriarch Vanya Vale, adds smoothly, her voice echoing over the silent hall.“Because I know for a fact my daughter wouldn’t let a dog wear something so cheap.”Lyria shrieks, wine dripping off her chin, soaking into the ruined bodice of her gown.Well, she did actually, pick that dress.She scrambles back against the marble floor, pointing a trembling finger at my mother.“How dare you!” Lyria screams, her act shattering into raw rage. “This is my wedding! You can’t just—“My father, or Minthe’s father, Beta Marcus Vale, steps forward from the shadows near the balcony doors.Broad-shouldered in his imperial uniform, he cuts an imposing figure.“Watch your tongue, girl,” my father growls, his voice cutting through her screeching. “You might be standing in a border packhouse, but do not forget whose presence you are in.”Pierre freezes.The color drains from his face as his eyes lock onto my father’s crest.He kno

FIFTY-FOUR: Previous Luna

MINTHEPrevious Luna* * * Standing in my custom four-hundred-gold-piece dress, Lyria looks like a glorified parasite who just dug through my trash.My mother takes a sharp step toward the grand staircase, her hand reaching into her dress pocket like she is about to pull out another pitcher or tear the silk straight off Lyria’s back.I reach out and grab my mom’s forearm, pulling her back. “Mom, don’t.”“Minthe, that bitch is wearing the gown you spent four months waiting on!” my mom whispers through gritted teeth, her gray eyes flashing with pure rage. “The silver thread was hand-spun in the capital!”“Let her,” I say, a cold, slow smile pulling at the corner of my lips as I look up at the stage. “Let her wear my old clothes.”Whispers ripple through the high-ranking guests standing near the bottom of the stairs.“Is that silk from House Valmont?” an elder’s wife murmurs, her jeweled wine glass hovering near her lower lip. “The silver lace embroidery . . . that’s Master Julian’s sig

FIFTY-FIVE: Luna Duties?

MINTHELuna Duties?* * *Pierre wants a public submission, and he expects me to break.He stands at the edge of the elevated stage, tapping his thick finger against the rim of the silver goblet, his eyes fixed on me with a nasty, expectant gleam.He thinks that after three years of walking on eggshells around his fragile ego, I’ll fold.He thinks I’ll shrink back, bat my eyes, or throw a bitter tantrum like the desperate villainess he remembers.Beside me, Hades doesn’t move a single muscle.He just stands there, towering over the room in his massive black fur coat, his pitch-black eyes resting on me.He isn’t stepping in. He’s watching to see how I handle the bone Pierre just threw into the dirt.I pick up the heavy crystal pitcher of dark red wine off the side table.My heels click steadily against the dark marble floor as I cross the grand hall.I walk straight up the four carpeted steps to the main stage, stopping right in front of Pierre’s table. I don’t hesitate.I tilt the pi

FIFTY-SIX: My Soldiers

MINTHEMy Soldiers* * * Lyria swallows hard, forcing a tight, saintly smile back onto her face.The oak exit doors are still vibrating from Pierre slamming them shut.Around us, the remaining guests and visiting Alphas filter out, sensing the shift in the air.The orchestra packs up their violins, the scraping of wooden cases cutting through the silence.Cassian slinks over from the dessert tables, wiping berry jam off his thumb onto his trousers.He stops beside me, leaning his shoulder against mine.“So,” Cassian mutters, his voice raspy with boredom. “Are we going up to sleep in this dump, or am I allowed to go bleed someone?”“Not yet, Cass,” I whisper back, eyes fixed on the stage. “The fun hasn’t even started.”He glances at me, raising an eyebrow. “You’re creepy when you smile like that.”“Shut up and watch.”As the last delegates vanish through the gates, the iron latches drop into place with a clank.Now the only people left are the core members of the Ashbourne Pack—the se

FIFTY-SEVEN: Bread

MINTHEBread* * *Lyria stands frozen on the elevated stage, her face drained of color while the iron boots of the Imperial Shadow Battalion echo off the stone walls.The sweet composure she wore all night is gone, replaced by pure terror.Behind her, the senior elders look like they’re about to have heart attacks, while the house Omegas scramble backward, clutching serving carts for support.I can’t help the wicked curl of satisfaction settling in my chest.Good fucking luck with fifty bloodthirsty soldiers, sweetie. Let’s see how many silk dresses and tearful smiles it takes to buy fifty barrels of ale and three hundred pounds of salted beef by midnight.Hades doesn’t move an inch.He stays seated in the velvet armchair, his chest rising and falling against my back, his hand still locked around my waist. He looks down at Lyria like she’s a bug he’s deciding whether to crush.“Well?” Hades rasps, cutting through the panicked whispers. “Are my men standing in the hall all night

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