The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 190: And Who’s Fault Is That?

"Is this because of the dream you had?" Althea’s wolf pressed, her voice resonating in Althea’s mind. She didn’t need Althea to say the words out loud— she was already privy to her thoughts, hence, she was able to effortlessly unravel the emotions Althea was truly feeling.

"This is more serious than you think," Althea murmured under her breath, her steps quick but deliberate as she avoided the clusters of people lingering in the corridor. She headed for a chamber, her own sanctuary, away from the prying eyes of others. "I just can’t brush it off. Believe me, I’ve tried—tried to ignore it, to bury it. But the harder I push it away, the clearer it feels that I’m making a grave mistake. The entire group is finally at peace, and I don’t want to shatter that."

Her thoughts lingered briefly on her encounter with Acheron, but she dismissed it with a shake of her head. There were more pressing matters demanding her attention, and that was the only thing she had to focus on currently. Reaching her chamber, she slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her as if to seal herself from the weight of the outside world.

By the time noon arrived, Dahmer remained imprisoned behind the dark, oppressive walls of the secluded building. The air was thick with unease, and when the heavy door creaked open, his bloodshot eyes darted upward, widening in dread as he saw Donovan standing at the entrance.

Dahmer barely had a moment to process seeing Donovan without his blindfold before slithering black threads shot out of the shadows, coiling around his limbs like serpents. With a sudden, violent pull, they yanked him off the ground, leaving him dangling upside down. Panic overtook him as he swung helplessly, his face contorted in sheer horror.

Donovan stood still, his icy gaze locked onto Dahmer with a fury that sent a shiver down his spine. But it wasn’t Donovan’s hands controlling the threads. His hands remained casually tucked in his pockets, his stance calm, almost indifferent. So where did the threads come from?

"Which hand was it?" Donovan asked coldly, his tone almost conversational, though the venom underlying it was unmistakable.

"The right one," his wolf growled in response, its voice deep and filled with rage. "I say the entire arm should come off. The same way they did ours."

A flicker of cruel amusement crossed Donovan’s face. "I’d almost forgotten about that," he muttered, his voice low as the memory resurfaced. He recalled the moment vividly. Dahmer and Lennox had severed his arm, interrupting him just as he was extracting critical information from a demon. "Now that I think about it, your king deserved to lose all those people from the East. His hatred for me overshadowed his duty, and how all of this would have been avoided if neither of you didn’t interrupt me on that night."

"P-put me down!" Dahmer stammered, his voice shaking as his body trembled with fear. Sweat poured down his face, his mind racing with desperate thoughts. He knew a visit like this from Donovan meant two things; death or unbearable torment.

Donovan’s expression didn’t waver. He was unfazed by Dahmer’s pleading, and Dahmer would have been more surprised if he was. If there was one thing he feared above all else, it was this man’s wrath, and today, he would feel its full weight. After all, this man hadn’t only broken his spine once, but he had coaxed Esme into killing his wolf.

"That crime might be forgiven," Donovan said, his voice sharp and measured. "Losing an arm is nothing compared to what you’ve done to my Esme. And now that I’ve seen you for what you truly are— pathetic and vile— you’re hardly worth the trouble. Yet, as if your existence wasn’t insulting enough, you dared to use those filthy hands on my woman!"

"I didn’t— I swear, I didn’t do anything like that!" Dahmer stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of Donovan’s glare.

"Do I look like Lennox to you?" The Alpha snapped. "Do you think I’m a fool?"

Behind his words, Donovan’s wolf resurfaced, growling low and dangerous. "Let me handle him!" it snarled, eager to tear Dahmer apart. But Donovan clenched his jaw, reining in the temptation. He wouldn’t stoop to impulsive savagery. Not yet, at least.

"Atticus. Orion," Donovan called, slipping on his dark gloves with unnerving calm. The two warriors entered the room without hesitation, as though they had been waiting outside, anticipating their Alpha’s call. Dahmer’s breath hitched as Orion stepped forward, gripping a long, gleaming machete.

The threads suspending Dahmer unexpectedly snapped, sending him crashing onto the cold stone floor. He groaned in pain, but before he could fully gather himself, Atticus moved swiftly to pin him down, and Orion followed suit, pressing his weight on Dahmer’s other arm.

"Wait–what are you doing?!" Dahmer’s voice pitched in panic as his gaze locked onto Donovan. The air shifted, heavy and foreboding, as Donovan crouched at the base of the steps, dragging the matchete’s edge against the rough stone. The grating sound of metal sharpening echoed in the room, making Dahmer’s blood run cold.

"She believed in you once," Donovan murmured, almost to himself. His tone was softer now, but no less terrifying. "As a child, she spoke of you with such hope. She told me how she dreamed of a loving older brother, someone she could trust, someone who’d protect her. You destroyed that. You destroyed her."

Orion then grabbed Dahmer’s wrist, stretching his hand forward and holding it steady. Dahmer struggled, his chest heaving, but the grip on him was unyielding. Donovan rose slowly when he was done, the metal now glinting with lethal precision in his grasp.

"You don’t deserve to keep the hand that dared to harm my mate," Donovan said, his voice devoid of mercy.

"NO! WAIT! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!" Dahmer’s voice broke, his eyes filling with desperate tears as he realized the Alpha wasn’t bluffing. His panic spilled out in a torrent of words. "You already killed my wolf! I’m being held here against my wishes. Don’t do this!"

Donovan’s expression was unyielding as he turned to Atticus and Orion. "If he escapes your grip, I’ll take your hands in exchange for his," he warned, his voice cold as ice, and without hesitation, the two men tightened their hold on Dahmer, their combined strength making resistance impossible.

Any attempt at escape would be futile, and Donovan knew it. He simply savored the sight of Dahmer squirming in their iron grasp. Helpless dripped from every fiber of his being— a bitter taste of his own medicine.

Dahmer’s chest heaved, and he watched as Donovan tested the edge of the blade against the light before pressing it against his wrist as if to measure the perfect spot to cut. The deliberate motion made Dahmer choke on his panic, and the tears brimming in his eyes finally spilled over as Donovan lifted the machete.

"I’LL APOLOGIZE!" Dahmer screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "I’ll go on my knees and beg Esmeray for forgiveness! I’ll do whatever she wants! Anything she commands! I won’t cause her any trouble! But please don’t do this! I beg you!" frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Donovan’s hand remained steady, his gaze unflinching as he loomed over the cowering man. "When you beat her within an inch of her life, did you show her mercy?" Donovan asked, his voice low and menacing, "so why should I?"

Dahmer flinched as if the words themselves had struck him. "I—I know I did her wrong," he stammered, his fear spilling over into a frantic confession. "I know what I did to her was unforgivable. I know I treated her horribly, I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but... but what was I supposed to do? I didn’t grow up with the right upbringing! No one saw me as a fellow Montague, I was treated like dirt before the entire pack while Esme had everything. She didn’t even have a wolf, but she was more lucky in life than me. My mother used that to poison me... and when I started hating her, it was too late to stop. I lost everything, including Finn."

The room fell silent, save for Dahmer’s ragged breathing, as Donovan loomed before him. Dahmer’s words hung in the air, unanswered, as the weight of his actions bore down on him.

"And who’s fault is that?" Donovan asked, unmoved by his plea.

Meanwhile, Esme stood in the grand hall after gathering all the eligible Northern warriors of the land.