All Chapters of Her Alpha’s Kryptonite: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Jesse’s POVI made the call from a room I had used before.It was not the kind of place anyone would remember. That was intentional. A narrow office on the third floor of an aging commercial building, with frosted glass on the door, a dead potted plant in the corner, and a desk that looked as though it had been purchased specifically to make the room appear occupied. There were no personal photographs, no documents left behind, and nothing on the walls that could identify who used the space.The syndicate liked places like this, places without history. Places that could be abandoned without anyone noticing.I sat at the desk with my phone against my ear and waited for the connection to settle. There was a brief hiss. Then a voice answered. I did not greet the person on the other end, because I did not need to. The channel had been established long before tonight, and the people who used it did not waste words pretending their conversations were ordinary.I spoke in the same flat tone

Tristan’s POVAbe had left the room after the sequence was complete. He had said the first stage would hold for a limited window—six hours, possibly a little more if the silver continued to stabilize the edges—and that the next stage would require more preparation and more of Jasmine’s presence than either of us should attempt without rest. Then he had closed the door and given us the space. I had not asked him to. He had known to do it the same way he had known to study the cathedral column in Prague while Jasmine’s fingers rested against the pale skin of my hand.I flexed my fingers once, the skin moved without the familiar resistance of the marks. No dark lines rising under the surface. No low burn at the wrists. No constant awareness of something that could flare without warning if the wrong pressure hit, or the wrong power, or the wrong fear. For years the curse had been part of the rhythm of my existence. I had managed it. I had contained it under cuffs and control and the delib

Tristan’s POVThe binding did not hold through the full cycle.The six-hour mark arrived and the curse resurfaced with violent force. The marks bloomed back across both hands simultaneously, the black veins climbing from the knuckles toward the wrists as if they had only been waiting for the window to close. I sat with my back against the workroom wall and both arms extended on my knees and watched the darkness crawl back up my skin with the specific detachment of a man who had expected this and was not going to spend energy on the disappointment.The quiet was gone, the clean hands were gone. Marc’s weight on my shoulders and the afternoon path and the boy’s observation about accountability still sat in recent memory, but the body that had carried them was already returning to what it had been for years. I flexed my fingers once, the resistance was familiar. The low burn under the surface was familiar. I did not fight it, because fighting had never kept the marks away. It had only ta

Jasmine’s POVWe started had an argument after Abe left us alone.Tristan did not follow me immediately when I left the workroom. He gave me enough time to reach the adjoining room before he came after me, and when he entered, he was no longer speaking as an alpha giving an order or a man making a decision for a room full of people. He was speaking to me directly, and every argument he had started was organized around one fact: the procedure could hurt me.He told me that the risk was not theoretical. My amulet was already fractured. The first stage had only given us six hours of relief. The remaining stages would require my silver energy continuously. If I lost consciousness during the procedure, Abe might not be able to stabilize the process quickly enough. If the silver surged through a damaged suppression system, they did not know what that would do to my body. If something went wrong, there was no guarantee that the procedure could simply be stopped without consequences.I listen

Jasmine’s POVWade pointed at the flagged communication on his monitor with a serious expression. He walked us through the syntax pattern match quickly, marking the relevant similarities with precise annotations and explaining how the communication fit the same structure we had been tracking. We listened attentively and no one interrupted him. The information was building toward a conclusion, and interrupting only slowed the conclusion down. I stood close enough to the screen to read the timestamp without leaning. Tristan stood beside me. Jeff was already half-turned toward the door.I looked at the timestamp, then I looked at Tristan. The timing was enough.“Marshall already made the call,” I said. “Which means the syndicate already has the location.”The room went quiet.It was not simply a location. It was the new safe house. And the new safe house was where Marc was.I was already moving before the thought had fully settled, but I did not run. Running was the response of someone w