All Chapters of Divorcing the Blind Alpha: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Julian POV“Kael, that lapdog, he has a real way with women,” Khalani said, leaning his elbows on the stone railing of the second-floor balcony. “He actually had the nerve to make a move right in front of Cooper.”I did not answer him.I lifted my glass and forced the remaining liquor down my throat. The burning fluid hit the back of my mouth, but it did not touch the cold weight spreading through my ribs. It did not touch the sharp, hot spike of jealousy digging into my chest.Down in the driveway, the tail-lights of the sports car cut through the dark. It was a vehicle from the Rogue Pack royalty fleet. The engine roared once, a low, arrogant sound that vibrated through the tarmac below. Then the car ripped past the iron gates and disappeared into the night.A low growl scraped against my teeth.“Let us go,” I said. My voice sounded thin, like gravel rubbing together.Khalani turned his head. “Go where? The party is still going downstairs.”“Call Casper,” I said, setting the empty gl

Penelope POV"Get up," I said.My own voice woke me. The silk sheets of the Westview Governor’s Mansion felt like sandpaper against my skin. I did not sleep like a baby. I slept like a soldier waiting for a mortar shell to hit the trench.The heavy scent of cheap grain alcohol from last night’s ceremony burned the back of my throat. I sat up. My knuckles were bruised from where I had slammed them into the marble pillar during the dance. The name Julian was an open wound in my mind, but I refused to touch it. I refused to look at it."Sir," my terminal chimed on the bedside table.I did not answer it. I grabbed the device. The glass screen flickered against the dark walls of the bedroom. The PackNet was already ablaze. One photo dominated the entire continental feed. It was the accidental mark. My teeth bit deep into the side of Julian’s neck, his fingers locked into the flesh of my waist.The headline underneath was standard tabloid trash.Blue-Claw Pack and Rogue Pack: Signs of a Lege

Penelope POV"Get in the car, Penelope."Eliora shoved a heavy designer shopping bag into my hands and pointed at the curb."I have to get back to the Governor's Mansion," I said, checking my watch. "The pile of paperwork on my desk is a mile high.""The paperwork can wait." Eliora slammed the boot of the car shut. "We just ran Marcella out of the jewellery shop like a stray dog. We are celebrating."My mobile phone vibrated violently in my palm before I could answer.Zaria’s name flashed across the screen."Babe, I need a favour," Zaria said the second I pressed answer. "Big time.""I am right in the middle of something, Zaria.""Tonight is the Blood Moon Hunt Festival in Central City," Zaria cut me off, her voice rapid and sharp. "One of my boys just took the championship title at the Blood Ring Arena. He needs a proper escort for the Glory Night segment. I am stuck out of town. Only my queen has the presence to carry that stage."I gripped the phone tighter, my fingers tapping agai

Penelope POV“Silence!”The Sentinel elder at the altar lets out a low growl. The sheer force of his alpha pressure cuts through the room. Marcella instantly snaps her mouth shut, her jaw twitching as she chokes back her rage.The old man turns his eyes directly to me. A flicker of cold curiosity is hidden under his thick brows.“Governor of the Rogue Pack, do you confirm your bid?”“Of course.”I let my lips curl into a slow, sharp smile. I look straight across the aisle at Chloe. I want her to see every single tooth. I want her to feel the mockery cutting through her skin.“I have always respected those who sacrificed everything to protect this continent,” I say. My voice carries perfectly across the silent hall. “The Ancestor’s Fang from the Blue-Claw Pack holds immense, sacred power. I believe its value far exceeds a paltry four million. Ten million is simply my personal gesture of respect to the ancient bloodlines.”Every word is coated in venomous polish. I leave them absolutely

Julian POV"Do something about that bitch!" Marcella shrieks, her voice piercing the damp air of the backstage corridor.My head pounds like a piston against my skull."Julian, it is her!" Mother cries, her fingers clawing at my jacket sleeve, her nails digging through the fabric. "She is the one who stole the Ancestor's Fang! Do not just stand there!"I do not look at them.My eyes are locked on the woman standing three paces away.Penelope.She does not look like the quiet, yielding girl I kicked out of my pack house six months ago.She looks like ice.Her fingers idly tap the glass dome of the Blue-Claw Pack's most sacred relic, her manicured nail making a sharp click against the crystal surface.Click. Click. Click."Penelope," I say, my voice sounding like gravel grinding in a blender. "You cannot take that with you."She tilts her head, her lips curving into a razor-thin smile.She does not say a word.Instead, she lifts a thick piece of parchment with her left hand and snaps it