Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 30

EMILIA'S POV

"Let me go!"

My voice cracked down the corridor, low but sharp, my pulse beating so loud I was certain he could hear it. My wrist twisted under his grip, but it was like steel wrapped around me.

"I said let go!"

The beta didn't so much as flinch. His eyes narrowed, dark and commanding, his voice dropping to a low warning growl that coiled around my spine like a whip.

"Listen to me, woman," he snapped, dragging me close enough that I had no choice but to look at him. "The King might tolerate anything—anything—but being disrespected? Not in there. Not in front of Alphas. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep that attitude in check and behave yourself."

My lips parted, ready to fire back, but the steel in his gaze made the words shrivel on my tongue. He wasn't bluffing. One wrong move from me, and it wouldn't just be me who paid for it.

His grip tightened, fingers biting into my skin, not cruel but firm, unyielding. He wanted me to understand.

"Are we clear?" he pressed, voice hard as stone.

I bit back a curse, exhaling sharply through my nose. "Crystal."

Only then did he release my arm. Not gently, not roughly—just with the same sense of control he carried everywhere. Without another word, he turned, pushing open the heavy double doors of the meeting room.

The moment they swung wide, the air shifted.

I stepped inside, and the first thing I felt was the weight.

It pressed down on me like a physical force—thick, suffocating, charged with barely leashed violence. The silence wasn't silence at all; it was the brittle edge of a blade held to the throat of every man and woman in that room. The kind of silence that came right before blood spilled.

And all eyes turned to me.

Every single one.

Dozens of gazes, sharp and unrelenting, pinned me where I stood. But none were as heavy, as piercing, as his.

The King.

He sat at the head of the table, his presence swallowing the room whole. His shoulders were squared, his hands braced against the carved arms of his chair, but it wasn't the posture that froze me—it was the look.

The look of a man seconds away from losing it.

The look of a predator with blood already on his tongue.

And when his eyes locked on mine, the breath caught in my chest.

Then—movement.

My gaze slid sideways and caught on another face. My throat went dry.

My father.

Alpha Gregor.

His expression was a mask of composure, but beneath it—shock. His eyes widened a fraction, just enough for me to see the truth. He hadn't expected to see me here. He hadn't expected me to be alive, breathing, standing in the middle of this room where kings and Alphas clashed.

The urge to smirk burned through me, and I let it surface. Just a little. A curve of my lips that carried every ounce of venom I'd swallowed since the day he'd cast me out.

The worthless daughter. The ugly mistake.

And yet here I was.

Before I could savor the moment further, a shadow shifted at the head of the table.

The King's eyes cut through the space between us, dark and unyielding, and before I could think to move, he extended a hand. Not for me to take. No—his power was command enough.

My feet carried me forward like they didn't belong to me. The closer I got, the heavier the air pressed, until the fine hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.

And then, to my shock—

He pulled me into his lap.

A sharp gasp caught in my throat, swallowed by the collective hush that swept across the room. Every Alpha's stare burned hotter, their confusion palpable. My father's eyes locked on me, disbelief flickering across his face like lightning in a storm.

The King didn't care.

His arm wrapped around me, strong and possessive, his grip firm on my thigh. His nose brushed the curve of my neck, inhaling slowly, deeply, as if anchoring himself to my scent. The pressure of his fingers digging into my skin told me one thing clear as day: I wasn't going anywhere.

For a moment, time itself seemed to stop.

The daughter he'd thrown away, the daughter not worth remembering, now sitting in the lap of the most feared king alive.

I met my father's stare. This time, I didn't just smirk—I bared my teeth in a smile sharp enough to cut. For a moment I almost forgot about escape plans or fear or shame. For once, I enjoyed watching his composure crack.

The King's voice shattered the silence.

"You were saying, Jack?"

The words were silk over steel, low and deliberate, yet the force behind them was enough to make the walls tremble.

Every eye swung toward the Alpha at the far side of the table—Alpha Jack, who sat rigid.

The tension in the room coiled tighter, every second stretching into a blade's edge.

Slowly, the King shifted me off his lap, setting me carefully on my feet. His hand lingered just long enough for every Alpha to see, to know, before he rose.

When he stood, the air thickened further. He moved with the ease of a predator, each step measured, deliberate, as he circled the table. And when he stopped, it was behind Jack.

The Alpha's shoulders went stiff, the bravado look on his face draining as the King's shadow swallowed him whole.

"I am the King," his voice rolled out, deep and unrelenting, filling every corner of the room. "And I cannot be everywhere at once. That is why I made certain each pack has an Alpha. If there is an attack on your land, that is not a failure of the throne. That is your failure as Alpha to protect what is yours."

His words cut like claws, each syllable heavy with truth, with power.

He leaned closer, his presence pressing down on Jack until sweat broke along his temple. "So if you wish to speak of failure," the King murmured, his voice carrying to every ear in the room, "look at yourself."

The Alpha's scent soured—fear spiking sharp and acrid, no matter how stiffly he tried to hold himself.

The King straightened, his gaze a blade poised at the throat of every Alpha seated at that table. "Alpha Jack," he said coldly, "the next time you think to disrespect me, I won't simply strip you of your title. I will make you a rogue."

The word hung in the air like a death sentence.

Jack's eyes widened, his false bravado shattering. He bowed his head so fast it nearly cracked against the table, his voice trembling when it finally broke free. "I—I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

The apology fell like ash in the silence that followed.

Slowly, the King turned, retracing his steps back to his seat. The Alphas watched with held breath, eyes flicking between him and me as though waiting for the next strike.

I seized the chance. I shifted, ready to move, ready to slip out before his temper turned or the game twisted again.

But I'd forgotten—he wasn't done with me.

The moment I tried to step away, his hand shot out, capturing mine with an unyielding grip. In one swift motion, he pulled me back into his lap.

This time, his breath brushed hot against my neck, his lips so close I could feel the heat of every word as he whispered—

"Where do you think you're going? his voice was low enough that only I could hear. His grip tightened on my waist, a chain disguised as a caress. "You're not leaving my sight for the rest of the day."