All Chapters of The Assassin Alpha's Heir: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Ivy's POVI was screaming.Tearing my vocal cords to bloody shreds, the sound ripping out of my chest so violent and animalistic it didn't even sound like a human being anymore.The pain wasn't just burning—it felt like someone was pouring molten lead straight down my spinal cord and scrubbing my nerve endings with broken glass. My back arched completely off the gurney, the heavy leather restraints groaning, the titanium brackets rattling violently against the frame. White, blinding agony detonated behind my eyes with every single ragged breath."Stop!" I shrieked, choking on my own spit, hot tears streaming blindly down my temples into my hair. "Please, stop! Callisto, stop! Shut it down! I'll do it! I'll go with the other option, I swear to God! Just pull the damn line!"The monitors above my head were squealing in a continuous, deafening alarm."I'll do the natural approach!" I sobbed, stripped of pride, dismantled down to nerve and bone. "I'll blindfold myself if I have to! I'll t

Ivy's POV I was sitting in Alfonso's room, waiting for him to haul his oversized ass back from wherever the hell he'd vanished to. We needed to talk. Serious talk. If I was really going through with this crazy "natural approach" nonsense, we had to lay down some ironclad ground rules. No weird emotional games, strictly business, a schedule, and a fat list of boundaries that would make a military perimeter look lax. Physically, I still felt like microwaved shit. My veins were still humming with the leftover ache from Callisto's chemical cocktail, and my head felt like an anvil. But Alfonso's master suite had one massive advantage: it was dead quiet. No beeping monitors, no technicians whispering down the hall, just curtains blocking the daylight and armchairs that didn't feel like medical torture slabs. I was literally just kicking off my boots, leaning my head back against the cushions of the chaise lounge, finally enjoying three minutes of uninterrupted peace, when the doors w

Ivy's POVI stood in the center of Alfonso's master bedroom, glaring at the bed like it was packed with twenty pounds of military-grade C4.Moving into his private wing permanently? Sleeping in the exact same bed as him? Every single night?!Not a chance in hell.I didn't care that Callisto was drawing up some biological conception calendar. I didn't care that Alfonso wanted to keep me from getting jumped by his psychotic groupies. There was no universe where I was just going to casually roll over under the sheets next to a six-foot-four mob boss and pretend this was normal domestic living.If I was being forced into this room, we were establishing strict, non-negotiable borders. I was laying down the law, and I wasn't budging an inch.The bathroom door clicked open, spilling a fresh cloud of warm cedarwood and mint into the bedroom.Alfonso strolled out.He was wearing sweatpants, drying his damp, dark hair with a towel, bare-chested. Water droplets were still tracing paths down the

Ivy’s POVThe world went silent.All the noise in the subterranean vault—the hum of the vents, the faint rustle of Mateo flipping through ledgers three aisles over, the low rumble of Alfonso’s voice—just stopped.It was replaced by a high-pitched ringing that started at the base of my skull and clawed its way straight through my eardrums.I stared at the yellowed piece of paper trembling in my hands. The black ink was faded, stamped with the official wax seal of the regional syndicates from over a decade ago. But the words were legible. Perfectly, brutally legible.Operation Clean Slate. Target: The Solokov Bloodline. Facilitator: House Rocca.Everything I knew—every single foundational truth that had kept me breathing, fighting, and surviving in Kessler’s twisted, blood-soaked world—was a fucking lie.For ten years, the agency had drilled the narrative into my head until it was carved into my bones. Kessler told me my family fell because they were weak. Because my father lacked t

Ivy’s POVThe deep-marrow burn from Callisto’s chemical cocktails had finally faded into a dull, manageable ache, but my head was a fucking mess.I was sitting on the edge of the mattress in the suite directly across from Alfonso’s, staring down at the tiny seam where the fabric met the box spring. Tucked deep beneath the lining was the scrubbed burner phone.Kessler hadn’t called back yet.No ring, no ping, no encrypted text. Just suffocating silence hanging over my neck like a freshly sharpened guillotine. The waiting was the worst part. That was always Kessler’s favorite tactic—letting you stew in your own panic until you started hearing footsteps in the dark. If I didn’t hand over something tangible soon, some piece of classified syndicate leverage or House Rocca data, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the plug on Luka’s pod.Think, Ivana. Stop acting like a cornered rookie.If I was really going to survive this whole surrogacy nightmare, let an Alpha into my bed, and carry his kid jus