Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154: Chapter 154

Elara’s POV

Behind me, the chilling footsteps in the dark street broke into a jog.

I ran, desperate to shake them off.

The grocery bag slammed against my ribs with every stride. One loaf of bread and a tin of jam—that was all I had.

No time to look back. No breath to spare.

My boots hit the cobblestones hard, the impact jolting up through my shins. The street blurred—shuttered windows and a broken cart wheel propped against a wall. The lampposts grew sparser. The shadows between them grew teeth.

I turned left. A narrow street. Darker. I didn’t care. I just needed distance.

Moonlight. The name rose unbidden, an old reflex. I reached inward, grasping for that familiar pulse of warmth, that silver thread of awareness that had once connected me to something vast and ancient and powerful.

Nothing. Just the hollow thud of my own heartbeat. Just the ragged scrape of my lungs pulling air.

No heightened senses. No supernatural speed. No surge of strength waiting behind the panic.

I was just flesh. Just bone. Just a woman running in the dark.

Another turn. Right this time. I chose it blindly, desperate for any gap, any open door, any sign of life.

The alley narrowed. The buildings pressed close on either side, their brick faces slick with moisture. The ground underfoot changed—cracked cobblestones gave way to uneven stone, then loose gravel that crunched under my heels.

Then I saw the wall.

It rose straight ahead of me. Solid brick. Taller than I could reach. Seamless.

My stomach dropped.

I spun. To my left—another wall, windowless, climbing high into the dark. To my right—the same. Behind me, the mouth of the alley gaped open.

A dead end.

I pressed my back against the cold brick. The stone seeped through my jacket, through my blouse, through my skin, all the way down to my spine. My breath came in short, sharp bursts that turned to mist in the freezing air.

The footsteps slowed.

He appeared at the mouth of the alley like a shadow solidifying. Broad shoulders filled the narrow opening. He wasn’t running anymore. He didn’t need to.

"There you are." His voice was thick. Slurred at the edges. "Thought you’d lost me, sweetheart?"

I pressed harder against the wall. My fingers scraped the brick behind me, searching for a crack, a ledge, anything I could grip. Climb. Escape. But the surface was flat and slick with condensation.

He stepped closer. The weak light from the street behind him caught his face—heavy jaw, dark stubble that hadn’t been trimmed in days, eyes threaded with red. The smell hit me a second later. Alcohol, sharp and chemical, layered over something sour. Old sweat. Unwashed clothes.

"Stay back," I said. My voice was steadier than I expected. "My husband is waiting for me. He’s expecting me home."

The man tilted his head. A grin spread across his face. Slow. Knowing.

"Husband." He let the word sit in the air between us, turning it over like a coin. "That right?"

"Yes. He’ll come looking if I’m late."

The man took another step. Then another. Each one unhurried. Each one closing the distance between us by another measure.

"See, sweetheart..." He raised one thick hand and pointed at me. At my left hand, specifically, where it gripped the grocery bag against my chest. "A woman with a husband wears a ring. That’s how it works."

My fingers curled tighter around the bag. The paper crinkled loudly in the silence.

He chuckled. The sound bounced off the three walls around us and came back distorted.

"No ring," he said. "No husband. Just you."

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