Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 32

EMILIA'S POV

His eyes.

Cold, unfeeling, hard as stone.

They cut into me the moment I registered who stood before me, and my breath stilled in my chest. My pulse pounded violently in my ears, every instinct screaming for me to run—but my body refused. It was him. My father.

I should have expected this.

"What do you want?" I demanded, my voice sharp, laced with venom. I refused to cower. Not for him. Not anymore.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pointed a finger at me, the gesture like a dagger aimed straight at my chest. "You better not tell the King anything, Emilia. Not one damn word. Or you won't like what I'll do to you."

A bitter laugh burst from my throat before I could stop it. The sound echoed down the shadowed hallway, hollow and cutting. "And what exactly do you think I'd tell him? That you're a lovely father?" I tilted my head, lips curling into a mocking smile. "Or should I tell him the truth? That you sent your own daughter here hoping to erase her because she was nothing more than a stain on your perfect little family?"

His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing until they were nothing but slits of pure rage. "Don't you dare," he hissed, his voice shaking with venom.

"Or what?" I snapped, stepping closer. I felt the fury in my veins burn hotter than my fear. "You'll tell everyone how incompetent and wolfless I am? Go ahead. Do it. Tell them." My words spat like fire, each one striking him like a slap to the face.

His hand shot up so fast my heart leapt to my throat. I braced myself, the sting of a slap almost ghosting across my skin before it even landed. But he froze, his palm hovering inches from my cheek. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he stared at me with nothing but pure, unfiltered spite.

"I dare you," I whispered, my chin tilted high. My heart was thundering, but I wouldn't let him see it. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

His fingers curled into a tight fist, trembling with the force of the blow he wanted so badly to give me. He leaned in close, his breath hot and sharp against my face. "You think," he seethed, "that because you're the King's toy you can speak to me with disrespect? You think that gives you the right?" His voice broke into a growl, his hatred vibrating through every syllable. "How the hell are you not even dead yet?"

The words sliced through me, jagged and merciless. My chest constricted, my lungs screaming for air, but I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

"Because I'm stronger than you ever gave me credit for," I spat back, my voice trembling with rage. "And mark my words, Father—I'm going to make you pay. For every single thing you've done to me. For every time you made me feel like I was less than nothing."

His eyes blazed, his lips curling back in disgust. In a blink, his hand shot out, tangling in my hair. He yanked my head back with brutal force, his knuckles scraping my scalp. A hiss of pain slipped through my clenched teeth, but my glare never wavered.

He leaned in, his face twisted with fury. "Don't you fucking dare say any bullshit to the King," he snarled, his voice so low and venomous it crawled down my spine like poison.

I forced a smirk, even as my scalp burned beneath his grip. "Oh, I'll only tell him the truth."

The instant the words left my mouth, I wrenched free, shoving against his chest with all my strength. He staggered back just enough for me to slip past, my dress brushing the wall as I bolted.

"Emilia!" His roar thundered down the corridor, furious and unrelenting. "Don't fucking try me!"

I didn't stop. My lungs burned, my pulse raced, but I didn't stop. His voice echoed after me, full of the same hatred I'd carried my entire life, and I let it drive me forward.

Only when I turned a sharp corner did I finally collapse against the wall, my body trembling. My chest heaved as I sucked in desperate gulps of air, the sting at my scalp throbbing with every heartbeat.

Goddess.

It had always been Rosella. Rosella, the golden child. Rosella, the perfect daughter.

And me?

I had never been anything more than a disappointment.

His words still echoed inside me, cruel and relentless. How the hell are you not even dead yet?

I bit down hard on my lip, swallowing the pain. No matter how many times he tried to break me, I wouldn't let him win. Not this time. Not ever again.

But still—the ache in my chest was suffocating. No matter how sharp my tongue, no matter how hard my defiance, there would always be a part of me that longed, foolishly, for his approval. For him to see me as something other than a burden.

A laugh, bitter and broken, scraped past my throat. What a fool I was.

I pressed the back of my head against the wall, closing my eyes, fighting against the tide of emotions threatening to swallow me whole.

And then—

A scream.

High-pitched. Piercing.

It shattered the silence like glass. My eyes flew open, my blood running cold.

Before I could even move, a warning horn blared—loud, shrill, echoing through every hall, every chamber.

The sound was enough to freeze time itself.

My breath caught. My body stiffened.

Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

And the world, for just one suspended heartbeat, stopped.