Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 319: Seventy–two Hours On My Knees

After Yael finished telling me everything, I went quiet for a long time.

My mind kept replaying Malcom’s face from that day at the Morrigans’ place. I had gone there on purpose, hoping he would finally admit what he knew about the Blackwells. The second I said their name, his eyes gave him away. He knew it. He just didn’t want me to see that he knew it.

He had been hiding something. Not because he didn’t care.

Because he was scared of being exposed.

Now I understood why Camilla no, Wisteria looked at liora like she wanted to tear the world apart. That hatred wasn’t random. It wasn’t just "she’s cruel."

It was personal.

And it felt like fate had a sick sense of humor.

liora had dragged the Morrigans to the top like an Alpha claiming territory that didn’t belong to them. Then her descendants grew up softer, more ordinary, and couldn’t hold the same ground. A powerful name, but shaky hands. Three generations, and the legacy was already slipping.

And Whitney...

Whitney had become a mirror of the Blackwell matriarch locked away in the dark, treated like property, trapped under Vito’s control the way a captured mate gets kept when someone wants to break her spirit.

My death was tragic, yes.

But the Blackwells’ story was tragic too.

A woman had been reduced to a pawn just because she was beautiful. Used, traded, tossed around like she wasn’t human. In those old days, strength decided everything, and mercy was rare.

liora started the fire.

Now the Morrigans were paying for the smoke.

My throat tightened. I lowered my head and whispered, "I’m sorry."

Yael’s voice came heavy, full of bitterness that had lived in his bones for too long. "Elena, do you know what we’ve carried all these years?"

He squatted in front of me, close enough that I could feel his breath when he spoke. "My father and my uncle lost themselves. They lived with pain every day. As long as we’re alive, we can’t forget. As long as the Morrigans are breathing, the Blackwells can’t have peace."

His finger brushed my cheek like I was something precious and fragile. The touch didn’t comfort me. It warned me.

"We’ve already put every Morrigans on our list," he said softly, like he was talking about groceries. "I understand you more than you understand yourself. The moment you switched your sister’s fate, revenge started moving again."

His eyes narrowed, satisfied. "But they’re lucky. That old woman still has one life left, hidden by you. And your parents... Greg is still alive too."

My stomach dropped.

Yael smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. "Rest easy. Soon they’ll join the old man. A family should be together, right?"

The way he said it made my skin crawl.

"Before they die," he continued, "I’ll make sure they know the truth. That they killed their own daughter for an imposter. They’ll die with regret in their mouths."

His gaze locked onto mine. "You’ve already died once. I won’t hurt you again. All you have to do is stand by my side and watch the Morrigans fall."

For a moment, I had no words.

If what Yael said was true, then the Morrigans weren’t innocent.

But what about me?

Could I really call myself innocent just because I didn’t swing the first blade?

What about the Blackwells who died? The ones who never had a chance?

The past didn’t stay buried. It crawled into the present and poisoned the next generation. That’s why Wisteria was twisted. That’s why Yael and his brother felt... wrong. Like something in them had snapped years ago and never healed.

Yael reached into his black bag and pulled out gold candles and a pouch of powder.

At first, I thought it was supplies water, food, something practical.

But no.

This was a ritual.

He lit the candles one by one, the flames flickering against the morning air. Then he sprinkled the powder upward, into the wide blue sky like he was feeding the wind.

"Grandpa. Grandma." His voice lifted, sharp with emotion. "Can you see? The Morrigans have come to bow to you!"

The powder danced and disappeared.

I stayed kneeling, head lowered, silent.

I didn’t dare provoke him. Not here. Not in their ground. Not when I didn’t know how many eyes were hidden in the trees or behind the stones.

Yael built a small pyre and set it alight. The flames grew fast, hungry and bright. Heat rolled over my face.

He knelt beside me and bowed deeply. "Grandpa, you can rest now. The old hag only has one breath left. The Morrigans are about to collapse. Grandma’s revenge is finally here."

I glanced at the tombstone.

The photo showed two young faces. They looked barely grown, like they hadn’t even reached the age where life starts feeling real. Even in black-and-white, the man’s gentle expression was clear. The woman’s beauty was delicate and sharp, like a soft thing forced to survive hard hands.

I didn’t know how to judge it.

To them, liora was a monster.

To me, she was the only grandparent who had ever cared about me in a way that felt real.

People weren’t simple. No one fit into one clean label.

So I stayed kneeling.

This was the price the Morrigans owed.

When the fire started dying down, Yael stood and looked down at me. "Elena, I know you’re not the one who started it. But your sin is being born to the Morrigans. Your grandmother’s debt... you will pay it."

His voice stayed calm. "I don’t want your life. I just want your kneeling until the candles burn out. Then the hatred between our families will end."

My heart clenched.

Those candles weren’t small. They weren’t normal.

They would take days.

Three days. Three nights.

Seventy-two hours.

He wanted me on my knees that long.

I didn’t have a choice. "Alright," I said quietly. "I’ll kneel."

Yael stepped closer and gripped my chin, tilting my face up. His eyes were cold, like winter water.

"Do you feel wronged?" he asked. "My grandfather knelt like this too. Begging for my grandmother’s life. He spoke the words, and Quintus nearly killed him."

My voice stayed steady because I needed it to. "No. I don’t feel wronged. This is what the Morrigans owe you."

His gaze held mine for a beat, then he nodded once. "Good."

His voice dropped. "My father never had peace. He lived in torment every day. By thirty-nine, he was gone. He didn’t get a second chance like you."

"I’m sorry," I whispered again.

Yael turned away. "Stay kneeling."

He walked off like it was nothing.

I didn’t dare stand.

Not because of the graves.

Because of the sounds.

The island hissed.

Soft movement in the grass. A slick slide over rock. Something curling around a low branch.

Even with the spray, my skin tightened with fear. I sprayed more around me, on my arms, my dress, the ground near my knees anything to keep them away.

Thirty minutes passed.

My knees felt like they were splitting apart. My legs shook. Pain crawled up my thighs and settled into my hips like a heavy stone.

I kept staring at the photo on the tombstone like it could hear me. Finally, I exhaled and muttered under my breath, "Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell... have mercy. I already died once. I don’t want to face that again."

My throat burned. "I have people I need to protect. If you have any power at all... make the Blackwell brothers stop. If this keeps going, they’ll destroy themselves too."

Time crawled.

Hunger twisted my stomach. Weakness pressed behind my eyes. My body wanted to collapse, but I forced myself to stay upright.

What scared me most wasn’t the day.

It was the night.

Darkness on this island didn’t feel normal. It felt alive. Like the shadows had teeth.

As the sky dimmed, a cold wind suddenly cut through the air.

I looked up.

Clouds rolled in thick and fast. The air turned heavy. The hairs on my arms lifted like my body sensed danger before my mind could name it.

Thunder cracked.

Lightning split the sky.

I flinched so hard my breath caught.

Then my eyes dropped back to the tombstone and I froze.

A black snake had coiled on top of it.

Its eyes were empty and unblinking, locked on mine like it knew I was trapped.

True terror hit me then. The kind that turns your blood to ice.

Rain started falling big drops, heavy and fast. They slammed into the ground, into the stones, into the candles.

One by one, the flames died.

The gold candles went out.

And in that moment, I realized something simple and huge.

I could stand.

I tried.

My hands pressed into the wet ground. My knees shifted

And everything went black.

My body swayed, slipping like I had no bones left. I fell forward

And landed in someone’s arms.

For one strange second, my mind grabbed at hope like it was air.

I whispered without thinking, "Carl... you came..."