Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 30

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.

The scream hadn’t even died down when the palace erupted into chaos.

I barely had a second to catch my breath before a blur of movement slammed into me. A woman-her face ghost-pale, eyes wide with panic-shoved past me so hard my shoulder smacked against the wall. I gasped, clutching at the ache, but she didn’t even look back. Her skirts swished wildly as she sprinted down the corridor, the sound of her frantic footsteps echoing off the marble like a frantic drum.

For a heartbeat, I thought she was mad. Running like that in the palace? But then her expression carved itself into my mind- raw terror. Not fear of scolding. Fear of something much worse.

My heart stuttered.

“What the “

And then I heard it.

“ROGUES!”

The shout tore down the hallway like a whip crack. Male, deep, urgent. The sound carried the kind of terror only warriors knew. The air seemed to shiver around me.

Another voice answered-closer, louder. “Rogues in the perimeter! Lock it down! Get everyone inside!”

In the next instant, chaos erupted. Warriors came pounding down the corridor, boots striking the ground in rhythm like war drums. A handful of servants shrieked, skirts and aprons flying as they scrambled to obey the orders, scattering like frightened birds.

“Inside, inside!” someone barked. “Close the doors-NOW!”

The palace was alive with the thunder of footsteps, the bone-deep sound of the warning horn still blaring overhead, echoing in my bones.

I pressed my back against the cold wall, my chest rising and falling too fast. Rogues. Here. At the palace. My blood iced over. But even as fear stabbed through me, another thought slammed into my mind like lightning.

This was it.

Now or never.

If the palace was under attack, if everyone was distracted… this was the moment I had been waiting for. My window. My one chance.

The words screamed inside me like a mantra: Escape tonight, or never at all.

My legs were moving before I even realized it. I pushed off the wall, shoving through the tide of bodies. Servants shrieked, warriors cursed, the air reeked of fear and sweat.

“Stay inside!” someone roared as I slipped past, but I kept my head down, my hair falling across my face, my pulse roaring too loud for me to care.

I darted around a cluster of women huddled against the wall, skirts in their fists as they whimpered prayers to the Goddess. My heart banged against my ribs, every beat like a hammer, but my feet carried me forward, weaving through the chaos with one thought fixed in my head: The laundry room.

My gateway. My exit. My freedom.

If I could make it there, I could be gone before anyone even noticed.

But the palace wasn’t making it easy. The hallways were alive with panic-warriors flooding in one direction, servants another. Shouts barked orders.

I kept my head down, my hands clenched in my dress to keep them from tangling around my legs as I rushed forward. Sweat slicked my palms. My throat was dry as sand.

Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

I reached the servant wing, the noise behind me muffled but still thunderous. The hallway here was emptier-most of the staff had already abandoned their posts, scrambling to safety. My footsteps echoed against the walls, sounding too loud, too obvious, like a beacon shouting escapee, escapee, escapee.

My lungs burned, but I didn’t dare slow. My whole body was shaking-not just from fear of what waited outside, but from the sheer gravity of what I was doing.

If I got caught, I knew there would be no forgiveness.

But I couldn’t stay here. Not another night. Not another day. The palace walls were a cage, and tonight-tonight the cage was cracked open.

I rounded the corner and there it was. The laundry room.

The door stood slightly ajar. My pulse leapt. I shoved inside, my eyes darting to every shadow, half-expecting to see someone waiting.

But the room was empty. Completely, eerily empty.

The smell of soap and damp fabric clung to the air, but beneath it, I could smell something else-fear. The heavy kind. The kind that seeped into walls.

For a moment, I just stood there, chest heaving, every inch of me trembling.

This was it.

No turning back.

I forced my legs to move, crossing to the back door. My fingers fumbled with the handle on the door. My hands shook so badly it took me three tries before it finally gave way with a sharp click.

The door creaked open.

Cold night air rushed in, slicing across my damp skin, making me shiver.

The scent of pine and earth and smoke filled my lungs. The forest loomed ahead, dark and endless, the horizon nothing but a shadow stretching into forever.

I froze.

The sight was both terrifying and liberating all at once.

Out there-rogues could be waiting. Death could be waiting. The unknown stretched its arms wide, ready to swallow me whole.

But in here? Inside these walls? Death was already certain. A slower kind, maybe. One that strangled me day by day, stripping me of pieces of myself until there was nothing left.

The King. My father. This palace.

They were all just different versions of the same prison.

And I refused to rot here.

My chest ached with the weight of the choice. My breath came shallow, trembling. My scalp still burned where my father had yanked my hair, the echo of his hatred ringing in my ears: How are you not even dead yet?

Maybe I would be, if I stepped out there. Maybe I wouldn’t last an hour.

But at least it would be on my terms. At least I would die running.

I gripped the edge of the door, my knuckles white, and sucked in one long, steadying breath. The forest stared back at me, black and endless, daring me to step inside.

This was dangerous. This was madness.

This was freedom.

I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer to the Goddess.

And then-

I stepped through.

The cold night air wrapped around me, biting, sharp, real. My pulse thundered in my throat.

Behind me, the laundry room stood silent, the door yawning open like a mouth waiting to swallow me back inside.

I couldn’t let it.

I reached back, my fingers trembling, and pulled the door shut.

The soft click of the latch echoed in the night, final and irrevocable.

I stood there, the wind tugging at my hair, the forest stretching out like a black sea before me, and for the first time in my life

I felt truly in control.

No family. No cage. No palace walls.

Just me.

And whatever waited in the dark.

The balcony stretched wide before me, a black mouth opening to the chaos beyond. The marble beneath my shoes gleamed under the pale wash of moonlight, cool, still, and untouched-so unlike the scene that unfolded below. My Alphas and warriors were pouring into the night like a living tide, snarls splitting the silence, their claws flashing in the dark as they clashed with the rogues who had dared to trespass on my land.

Fools.

I rested my palms lightly on the stone railing, posture relaxed, gaze calm, as if the world below was not a battlefield but a stage for my entertainment. The screams, the growls, the wet rip of teeth sinking into flesh-all of it rose up to me like a song. A song I had heard too many times to be stirred by anymore.

I gave one order, and one order only: bring me the rogues. Dead or alive, it didn’t matter. Their fate had been sealed the moment they stepped into my territory.

Pathetic creatures.

It was almost insulting, really. Did they believe me so blind, so naive, that I would not see their attack coming? Did they think that simply because the Alphas were gathered under one roof that it would leave them unguarded, vulnerable? The sheer stupidity of it made me want to laugh.

They never learned. They never remembered.

I am not like the kings who came before me. I am not weak. I am not merciful.

I am the most ruthless Alpha King to ever walk these lands.

And yet, again and again, they test me.

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes narrowing as one of my warriors drove a rogue to the ground, his teeth snapping for the jugular. The rogue thrashed, snarling, his claws raking furrows into the warrior’s shoulder, but it was pointless. The fight was already decided. Blood sprayed across the dirt as the warrior’s jaws closed, ripping, tearing, silencing.

The beast inside me stirred.

A low growl rose in my chest, though I did not let it slip past my lips. My claws ached beneath my skin, my bones humming with the call to shift, to join them, to tear through flesh and paint the ground with the entrails of my enemies. My wolf prowled within me, restless, violent, slamming against the cage I kept it in. He wanted blood. He wanted to kill.