Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 117

EMILIA'S POV

The moment the door clicked shut, my whole body broke.

I didn't even try to hold myself together. The second Maximus was gone, the strength in my spine vanished and the cloth slipped from my fingers. My knees hit the floor beside Damien's bed, and I folded in on myself, burying my face in my hands.

The sob tore out of me too fast, too raw. I tried to swallow it back, but it was useless. My chest shook, my shoulders trembled, and the tears kept spilling like they'd been waiting for that one moment—just that one moment—for me to be alone.

Goddess, I hated this.

I hated him.

I hated myself more.

I hated that no matter how much I tried—no matter how much I told myself I should hate Maximus for everything he had done—I couldn't. My heart refused. My soul refused. Something deep inside me stayed tied to him like a chain I couldn't break.

Even after the truth.

Even after learning he killed my family—my real family.

Even after everything.

I pressed my hands to my face harder, trying to smother the sound of my own crying.

I wanted to hate him so badly.

I wanted the anger to burn through me, to poison whatever was left, to make me numb. But every time I thought about him—about his eyes, his voice, the broken look on his face before the door closed—my chest tightened until I couldn't breathe.

Because even if he killed them... he didn't do it because he wanted to.

He wasn't in control.

I had seen it myself. I had seen what his beast could do when it took over him. I had seen the madness in his aura, that mindless rage that wasn't him at all.

How was I supposed to hold him responsible for something he didn't choose?

How was I supposed to blame him for something he might have woken up from with blood on his hands and no memory of why?

Another sob broke out of my throat.

I didn't want this.

I didn't want any of this.

I was tired—so, so tired. Of the pain. Of the confusion. Of hurting Damien. Of hurting Maximus. Of being pulled in two opposite directions until my heart felt like it was splitting open.

And the worst part?

I wasn't supposed to love Maximus.

Damien was my mate. My real mate—my destined mate.

But my heart... my heart beat differently for someone else.

And that was the part that destroyed me.

I wiped at my cheeks, but new tears kept falling. My hands shook so badly I could barely breathe through the mess of emotions inside me. I didn't even know if the mark disappearing made me feel free... or shattered.

When I woke earlier and looked in the mirror, I froze.

The place where Maximus's mark had been was clean. Smooth. Untouched.

And instead of relief, all I felt was a strange emptiness—like someone had ripped a piece of me out without warning.

I didn't know whether to smile or cry... so I did nothing.

A quiet groan pulled me back.

My head snapped up.

Damien.

His body shifted. His eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened—blue, confused, soft, familiar.

He blinked at the ceiling, then slowly turned his head toward me.

And for a moment, neither of us breathed.

We just stared.

Him—alive, whole, sitting up slowly.

Me—tear-stained, exhausted, shattered.

His eyebrows pulled together gently, but he didn't speak. His gaze scanned my face, stopping on my swollen eyes. I wiped at my cheeks quickly, trying to hide the evidence, but it didn't matter. He already saw.

"I know I hurt you," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Damien... I'm so sorry."

His lips parted, but his breath came out uneven, like he didn't know how to respond. He swallowed hard.

Then his brows drew tighter.

"How... am I alive?" he whispered. "And why don't I feel any pain?"

I blinked, trying to find the right words. "I... I gave you my blood," I said quietly. "It healed you."

He stared.

Just stared.

Like the words didn't make sense—like his mind couldn't piece the truth together. His eyes widened, shock settling over his face slowly.

Then, suddenly, his gaze drifted lower—to my neck.

He froze.

His eyes went round. His lips parted in pure disbelief.

"Emilia..." he breathed. "the mark..."

I lifted a hand to my neck without thinking. The skin felt warm under my fingers, untouched. Damien's eyes weren't just wide—they were stunned, confused, maybe even hopeful.

"How?" he asked softly. "How is it gone?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "It just... happened."

The words felt strange in my mouth. Broken. Incomplete. Because even I didn't know how to explain it.

His lips lifted—just slightly. A gentle, hopeful smile tugged at them.

But then—just as quickly—the smile vanished.

His face fell.

Completely.

His eyes dimmed. His jaw tightened. A shadow passed over him—a sadness so deep it made my stomach twist.

"Damien?" I breathed, moving closer. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer at first.

He just looked at me—really looked at me—with a pain I didn't understand. His face tightened like he was trying not to give himself away. His fingers curled slowly into the bedsheets.

"Damien," I whispered again, my voice shaking. "Talk to me."

He swallowed.

Hard.

Once.

Twice.

His eyes looked like they were burning. Like something inside him was breaking apart piece by piece.

Finally—after what felt like forever—he spoke.

"Emilia..." His voice cracked. He looked away, then back at me. "I... I need to tell you something."

My breath caught.

My heart stopped.

His voice... the look in his eyes... the sorrow in his expression...Whatever he was about to say wasn't small. It wasn't simple. It wasn't something I could ignore or escape from.

I felt the weight of it settle over my skin, thick and cold. The room felt too quiet. Too tense. Too still.

Damien took another shaky breath.

I leaned closer, barely breathing.

"Damien," I whispered. "What is it?"

His throat worked.

His eyes glossed with something sharp and painful.

And then—