Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha's Forbidden Plus-Size Mate : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Kaia’s POV.The air in the Great Hall had turned thick enough to choke on. Every eye was a needle, stitching me to the spot where the Alpha’s son had just committed social suicide by touching me.My father’s eyes flared with a warning so potent it made my knees want to buckle. He didn't move from his seat, but his knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table. To him, this was a security breach. A stain on the Beta’s reputation.I didn't wait for the formal dismissal. I turned on my heel, the silver tray clattering onto the table, and walked out of the Great Hall.I didn't run. But as soon as thedoors closed behind me, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I made it halfway to the Omega quarters when a hand clamped onto my shoulder, spinning me around. I already knew the grip. It was too rough to be a stranger’s, too familiar to be anyone but blood."What the hell was that, Kaia?" Jace hissed. My brother’s face was twisted in a mixture of disgust and genu

Killian's POV I had spent six years at war. Six years learning that a battlefield is not a place for feeling — it is a place for calculation, for reading the ground and the wind and the body language of men who want you dead, and for making decisions in seconds that you will not have the luxury of second-guessing until the situation is long resolved and the bodies have been counted and whatever you are feeling has finally been allowed to surface. You looked at what was happening. You stripped away everything that was not information. You identified what remained. You acted. That was the discipline I had forged out of necessity in those six years, sharpened until it was less a skill and more the thing underneath skill — a reflex, a way of being, an automatic rearrangement of the self when the world went wrong around it. It shattered the moment I watched Kaia fall. She had been winning. That is the part that lived in me after — the part that came back in the hours following the event,

Killian's POVThe council chamber smelled like old wood and older decisions. I had been in this room more times than I could count — for formal hearings and pack announcements and the kind of deliberate, structured ceremony that keeps a social order from fraying at the edges by reminding everyone involved of their designated place within it. I knew the acoustics of it, the way the long table created a specific geography of authority with my father at its head and everyone else arranged in descending order of consequence. I knew the way certain voices carried in the stone space and certain voices got absorbed by it. I knew all of this with the familiarity of a person who has been inside a place since childhood and stopped seeing it clearly because of that familiarity.Today I saw it very clearly. Today it felt like standing inside a building I had decided to dismantle."The shift was within the announced terms of the trial," Kaelen said. He was standing on the opposite side of the long

Killian's POVI had known Dax since I was seven years old. This meant I had known him through most of the things that actually mattered in my life — the things that produced lasting consequences and genuine change, as opposed to the things that carried official weight, which were frequently an entirely different category and often didn't overlap with the first one at all. He had been in the training yards the first morning I was allowed to join the older boys, placed there on account of my rank despite being the smallest person present by a margin that was immediately and visibly obvious to everyone including me. Dax had been the largest person in the yard by a similar margin, and he had put me on my back in under thirty seconds with a cheerful, complete indifference that communicated clearly that this outcome had been obvious to him from the moment I walked in and he held no strong feelings about it in either direction. Then he had offered me a hand up and said, without ceremony or p

Killian's POVThe letter took an hour to write. Nine words ended up on the page. That ratio should tell you something about the hour.I will come to the northern gate. Midnight. I ask only that she is unharmed.I wrote it and crossed it out and wrote it again. Not because the words were wrong — they weren't — but because I had to get the feeling underneath them exactly right. Not broken. Not desperate. Constrained, the way a man sounds when he's run out of better options and has accepted the math. Vane would read this. He would read it the way he read everything — looking for weakness, leverage, the shape of what I was actually thinking beneath what I'd written. The letter had to give him what he was looking for without giving him what he needed to know.I'd spent three years during the border campaign studying Shadow Fang communication. Not as the main work — the main work was keeping people alive — but in the long stretches between operations when there was nothing to do and I can't