Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha's Mute Mate : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

The first thing that betrayed me was the sky. Not because it darkened or cried, but because it did nothing. It stood still, cloudless, pitiless—painted in a blood-orange hue that mocked the end of things. Sebastian’s grip around my chains was unyielding, metallic and cold like his heart. Each drag across the uneven, craggy landscape scraped layers of skin from my knees and elbows, leaving behind a trail of blood that the earth drank greedily. The wind changed as we neared the Pit—it grew heavier, unnatural, like it was laced with breath stolen from the mouths of the damned. My breath caught as the sacred landmark rose into view: the Pit of Despair, carved deep into the ancient spine of the mountain, its edges jagged and whispering, as if alive. Stories had reached me in broken whispers growing up—traitors thrown in alive, their screams echoing for generations—but nothing, nothing, prepared me for its reality. The air here didn’t move. It pressed. It clung. Each inhalation tasted l

Killian's POV The scent hit me first—long before the piercing scream shattered the silence and reverberated through the cold, damp stone corridors of my prison. It was a scent that clawed at the very core of my being, sharp and metallic, heavy with the bitter tang of fresh blood that lingered in the air like a dark promise of violence and desperation. But beneath that familiar scent lay something deeper—something ancient and raw, almost primal, stirring memories buried deep in my soul, the scent of her essence entwined with the cruel reality of pain.It invaded my nostrils and clawed at the edges of my senses, pulling me out of the thick fog of exhaustion and the relentless drugged stupor that had dulled my mind and shackled my spirit for far too long. Her blood—Selene’s blood—mixed with the cold stone and stale air, became an unrelenting force, dragging me from the numbing haze that had dulled my world into a sharp, terrifying awareness that sent a surge of adrenaline flooding thr

The pain didn’t creep in—it struck like lightning, sudden and unforgiving, ripping through my spine before I could brace myself. One moment I was reaching—desperately clawing inward, praying to feel even the faintest flicker of my wolf beneath my skin—and the next, my body betrayed me. The cursed wolfband coiled tighter around my wrist, glowing with that sickly blue light, and then the agony erupted, searing through my veins like molten metal. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even whimper. The pain didn’t ask permission—it devoured.My knees hit the cold stone floor with a brutal thud, and my vision blurred as the silent scream burned my throat. I bit down hard, jaw trembling, until I tasted the bitter rush of blood. My fingers clawed blindly for the wall, nails scraping down the rough surface as I fought to stay upright, to stay present, to not collapse entirely. But the pain… It was a punishment. A reminder. And it was winning.It never faded—not really. It just retreated like a

Killian – POVThe dampness in the dungeon pressed against my skin like the breath of something long dead, buried beneath stone and silence. Shackles hung from the walls, crusted with the memories of others who'd sat where I now bled. The scent of iron, filth, and sweat thickened the air like rot—yet through it all, something cut sharp through my senses. Faint, fleeting, but unmistakably hers. Selene. Her scent threaded the darkness like a ghost’s whisper, a trace left behind by accident or intent. Lavender and storm rain.It coiled into me, clawing down my throat, and for the first time in hours—days?—the numbness cracked. My fists clenched where the chains allowed. I knew he would stop at nothing to have her.Not anyone other than him. Sebastian.I already knew he had her. He'd come to taunt me with that truth sometime ago, smirking behind steel bars while casually mentioning the "precious mute wolf" he kept caged like a trophy. But knowing and smelling her fear-laced scent in

Killian – POVThe cold stench of blood was the first thing that assaulted my senses as I cracked my eyes open, the scent thick and suffocating, curling into my nose like smoke from an ancient battlefield. The metallic tang clung to the damp, stone walls of the cell like a malevolent spirit, embedded deep into the pores of the dungeon, as if the walls themselves had been built from agony and murder. My tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth, dry and swollen, and every breath I took tasted of rust and rot. The silver cuffs burned against the raw, split skin of my wrists, the metal hissing where it met flesh. The pain had long passed the point of recognition—it wasn’t even pain anymore. It was an old friend, a reminder that I was still alive. My muscles were sore from weeks of disuse, my shoulders sagging from chains that had never once relented. Time here didn’t move like it did in the real world. It had become something else—disjointed, jagged, lost between scream