The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 105: A Family Cursed To Die

Before Esme could fully discern the figure lurking in the shadows, spying on Donovan, the dream abruptly shifted, and in an instant, she found herself within the cold, palace walls.

"What the–"

She stood in one of the winding corridors, immediately recognizing it as part of the king’s quarters. She remembered venturing into this area while she was still a guest in the palace, but Lennox told her not to go there, since the ominous death of his father happened in that very place. But from the look of things, this corner of the palace barely looks forgotten.

Did she perhaps go back in time? Why was she here?

This has to be a dream. It must be!

But who was watching Donovan? The mere thought of that shadowy figure sent a cold shiver down her spine, stirring an unfamiliar fear deep within her.

The air around her felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension, but not the kind that made her heart settle — it’s as if danger itself was lingering out of sight.

The thought of it made her heart tighten from the weight of the looming dread.

From the distance, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall, pulling her attention momentarily. Yet, there was something else – something stronger — that drew her towards the chamber where the old king had met his end.

A group of guards rushed past her, but none of them seemed to notice her presence, as though she were a phantom in this strange, unsettling dream.

Rounding the corner, Esme moved through the double doors like a ghost slipping through the veil. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of blood and despair. It took less than a heartbeat for her to register the scene, but that moment stretched endlessly as the sound of flesh colliding with stone ripped through her.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked on Donovan, whose body crumpled to the ground in a heap of blood and bruises, barely recognizable from the vicious beating he’d endured. His face was swollen, skin slick with blood – some of it his, some not.

Esme froze, eyes growing with pure horror. He had made it to the palace like she guessed. But what nightmare had she walked into?

From the shadows, a woman staggered, her hand pressed against her chest to slow the flow of crimson gushing from a deep wound. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she tried to grasp the empty air between her and Donovan. But he was too far, slipping from her grasp in more ways than one.

Before Esme could react, a figure loomed over Donovan, grabbing him like a rag doll and hurling him against the stone wall. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as a large hand wrapped around his throat, defying his body of air. However, his body hung limp, hardly fighting back, eyes closed, looking lifeless and distant, as if he had been claimed by death.

"LET HIM GO, PLEASE!" Donovan’s mother’s voice cracked, desperation ripping through her as she dragged herself closer on the cold floor, blood trailing behind her. "Donovan, wake up!" she begged, her hands trembling as she struggled to reach her son.

Esme’s heart clenched like a vice. The monstrous figure torturing Donovan – a younger, more vulnerable version of him – was Lennox’s father.

Even without a crown, his bearing was unmistakably regal, but there was nothing noble in the darkness that twisted his features. His eyes glinted with cold, unyielding hatred, and his lips curled in a sneer as he looked down on Donovan.

Naturally, Lycans were known to be very merciless and ruthless beasts, but it was their unhinged strength that made them the strongest. To think Donovan had to suffer in the hands of one at such an age was petrifying. She couldn’t even imagine her Finnian in such a horrible crisis.

"Demonic bastard, trying to fight me!" The king’s voice thundered through the chamber, dripping with venom.

On the floor, the woman fought against her weakening limbs, struggling to rise despite the gaping wound that bled freely. "Don’t hurt him, please! He has nothing to do with any of this!" her voice trembled, trying to plead to a heart that had long since turned to stone.

But the king only laughed, the sound low and hollow. "After humiliating me with that filthy demon, you dare stand before me?" he spat, turning his attention to her. "You think you can crawl into my palace, and I’d welcome you with some tea and biscuits? No, Madora! You... will have to pay the price for your reckless decision."

As his words sank into the room, his nails lengthened into jagged claws. Then, without hesitation, without mercy, he slashed Donovan’s throat in a single, brutal motion. Blood sprayed across the room, painting the stone walls in vivid red as Donovan’s body sagged.

Esme turned pale with her hands over her mouth, her blood running cold as the sight of the gruesome slaughter seared into her mind.

"DONOVAN!" His mother’s scream pierced the room as she watched her son’s body crumple to the ground once more. She shook her head in denial, refusing to accept the sight before her.

"I’m telling you to get up! Why aren’t you listening to me? Get up now!" Her plea was cut short by a sharp yelp of pain as the king gripped her hair with brutal force, yanking her head back. She locked eyes with him, fury burning through her tears as she faced his bloodthirsty gaze.

"We could have ended this differently," she said, her voice weakened under the weight of his torment. "You’re heartless — your hatred has made you no better than the monsters you despise. He’s just a child! My son! You..." she couldn’t bring herself to complete it. "You’ve hurt my son!!"

"He’s an abomination," the king snarled, eyes blazing with the feral hunger of his wolf. "A curse born from you and that demon you dared call a husband. Did you really think you could come here to broker peace? You’re a fool, Madora, and I really thought you knew me better than that. I didn’t send you that letter because I accepted your silly offer for peace, I sent the letter to lure you here. So I could kill you myself."

He twisted her hair cruelly, forcing her to kneel at his feet. "You really think highly of yourself, Madora, but let me break it to you. Demon shifters aren’t real shifters like the rest of us. Your husband is a wretched creature, and he won’t live long enough to know you’re dead."

A tremor of rage surged through Madora’s body at his words, and without hesitation, she spat in his face, defiance burning in her eyes. "I’d be married to a demon again before I’d ever be bound to a two-faced manipulating man like you!" her voice was venomous, each word striking like poison.

The king’s face twisted in fury, eyes darkening as her insult sank in. With a roar of rage, he slammed her head down onto the cold, unforgiving tile.

Esme could hardly comprehend the nightmare unraveling before her eyes. She wanted to scream, to shout "STOP!" but her voice felt useless, swallowed by the thick, oppressive hatred suffocating the room. Blood was everywhere, staining the stone floor, the air thick with its coppery scent. The only other souls were the king and the two broken figures before her.

Her gaze landed on Donovan, lying on the growing pool of his own blood. The sight sent a jagged spike of pain through her chest.

"Donovan?" Her voice trembled, as if saying his name would bring him back. The agony felt real... she didn’t want to believe that this actually happened in real life.

Her heart pounded as she rushed to him, dropping to her knees beside his crumpled form. His throat was savagely torn, the relentless stream of blood refusing to stop. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the horrific scene as helplessness consumed her.

How could so much violence – so much agony – unfold within these walls and yet no one outside knew? Or what if they did and are simply ignoring it?

She could hear his mother calling out to him, as if she refused to believe that he was dead. Her forehead was bleeding profusely from the way Lennox’s father had mercilessly slammed it to the ground.

The horror of it all was suffocating.

"Wake up, Donovan..." his mother’s voice cracked, growing weaker with each passing second, as if her very life was draining with her strength. It seemed like she might slip away at any moment, and Esme’s heart twisted painfully.

Then, suddenly, Donovan’s fingers twitched.

It was barely noticeable, but Esme had seen it, including Madora. Even with his throat slashed, somehow, he was still fighting.

To Esme’s shock, Donovan began to rise, his trembling hands reaching for his blindfold as he pulled it off and used it to wrap the gaping wound in his throat. He could barely get himself to stand, and he had to support himself by leaning against the wall.

His hair clung to his face, drenched in blood, every inch of him soaked in red. With a shaky hand, he reached for the silver sword that was used to pierced his mother earlier, his grip tightening around the hilt as if it were the last thing tethering him to life.

With blinding speed, Donovan lunged at the king, the silver blade gleaming in his hand. His senses were still disoriented, but his anger was the only thing leading him forward at this point.

Esme’s heart raced — she wanted it all to stop, she wanted to wake up, but then she noticed the cruel smirk twisting the king’s lips. He suddenly pulled Donovan’s mother in front of him, using her as a human shield, and Donovan, failing to detect it on time, pierced the blade that was meant for the king into his mother’s chest.

Esme almost screamed. Donovan suddenly froze, as if sensing what he had done, but it was too late to rectify it. His mother’s eyes widened from the blade’s sudden penetration, and Donovan could feel the life drain from her, his trembling hands slipping from the weapon.

The king watched with sadistic satisfaction as Donovan staggered back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"M-Mother?" he stammered, the realization crashing down as her heartbeat slowed, then stopped altogether.

She was gone.

"No! Mother, I’m... I’m sorry!"

The king chuckled darkly as he released Donovan’s mother, letting her lifeless body collapse onto her son. "That’s what happens when a blind little boy plays at being a man. You went through all this trouble to save her, only to kill her with your own hands."

Esme’s heart clenched painfully at the sight of Donovan, frozen beneath the weight of his mother’s corpse.

It wasn’t on purpose.

The king’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. "All of this," he sneered, "could have been avoided if the foolish woman had obeyed me. But no, she settled for a Morgrim. A family cursed to die. That’s why your mother lies dead beneath your feet. Soon enough, your father will be killed by the Therondia pack warriors, and you’ll be left alone. Everyone you care for will abandon you, one by one; your father, your mother, your brother, your people... and eventually, even yourself."

"This is your fault," Donovan shook his head in denial, his wounded throat affecting his speech as tears fled his eyes. "She wanted peace, but you tricked her into coming here!"

"And you killed her," the king replied coldly, his smirk deepening. "A demon who murdered his own mother. You’re the real monster here, child. Tell me, how much of tonight do you already regret?"