He’s an Alpha She doesn’t Care novel Chapter 132

Avetta

The day had finally come, Dorian would be brought down. His own downfall was his firstborn child to her. She’d foreseen it once that it would be his own child that brought him to his knees. She’d not been able to read him because he’d been her Goddess-Gifted mate. But she’d learned he wasn’t a nice man and only wanted her because of her lineage.

Because her foresight was exceptional, it would enact itself every day, sometimes more than that, due to who her ancestors were. Even touching people could set it off. It was something she’d learned to avoid, and he’d played at accepting that for three years he’d pretended to love her, cherish her and no harm had come to her.

When she had seen their son in her visions, the images were not of joy but of horror—her child would kill Dorian when he turned seven. The realization struck her like a thunderbolt, leaving her breathless. Why would their son harbor such hatred? She could not fathom it, especially since she had no ability to read her own mate. All she knew was that the boy’s disdain for his father was palpable, and it terrified her.

Something was amiss, and she felt a gnawing urgency to uncover the truth. In a moment of desperation, she resorted to a drastic measure that no mother should ever consider: she had the doctor draw blood from her unborn child. She needed to see, to understand what fate awaited them. But Dorian had discovered her actions, and rage had consumed him. He stormed into the room, his fury palpable, accusing her of risking their child’s life for no good reason.

“It’s not for no reason!” she had shouted back, her heart pounding. “I saw our son kill you! I need to know why!” The desperation in her voice echoed through the room, but Dorian had not listened. Instead, he had struck her with a force that sent her crashing against the wall, his anger spilling over like a dark tide.

“If you want to get rid of the child, I’ll help you!” he had bellowed, stomping on her abdomen with a brutal force that left her gasping in agony. It was the first time she had witnessed the monstrous side of him, the side that had been hidden beneath layers of charm and affection.

In that moment, she had lost their pup. He had ensured that she did not touch a single drop of its blood during the miscarriage, binding her to the hospital bed as if she were a prisoner. Confusion had clouded her mind; she had not understood his actions at first. But later, when he returned to her, his demeanor had shifted. He had wept, pleading for her forgiveness, claiming he thought she wanted to harm their child.

“I was just angry,” he had sobbed, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He had insisted that the pack doctor had explained her intentions, that she had only wanted to read their child, not harm it. He had promised to change, to learn from his mistakes, to shed the violent ways ingrained in him by his Alpha father.

From that day forward, he had become overly attentive, showering her with gentleness and care. She had wanted to believe him, to trust that he could be different. But the chilling memory of their son’s hatred loomed large in her mind, and she could not shake the feeling that something was still deeply wrong.

Dorian was aware of her inability to read him, and she suspected that this knowledge was a weapon he wielded against her. He didn’t want her to discover why their child would one day rise against him. The truth was too dark, too horrifying to confront.

As time passed, she had not become pregnant again for a long stretch, but when she finally did, the vision was even more disturbing. She saw their child, now thirteen, standing over Dorian with a look of cold determination. It was a stark reminder that the cycle of hatred was repeating itself. Two children, both destined to despise their father. The clarity of it all struck her like a hammer, and she knew—this was not just a coincidence. Dorian’s fate was sealed, and their offspring would be the instrument of his downfall.

When Dorian had casually inquired about her vision, she had feigned indifference, shaking her head and dismissing it as nothing. But he had seen through her silence, his suspicion igniting a firestorm of anger. He had demanded to know the truth, and when she resisted, he had unleashed his fury upon her.

“Tell me!” he had roared, his voice echoing in the confines of their home. She had fought back with everything she had, but it had only ended in violence. She had tasted her own blood, felt the sharp pain in her abdomen as he raged, drowning her in his power until she could no longer withstand the onslaught.

“Your son is dead,” she had finally spat out, the words laced with a bitter laugh. “Perhaps it’s for the best.” She had looked up at him, her eyes filled with a hollow emptiness. “He was destined to kill you by the time he was thirteen.” The laughter that escaped her lips had been devoid of joy, a haunting sound that echoed the truth of their existence.

Her children had witnessed their father’s brutality, had seen the monster he truly was. She could feel it in her bones, the realization that both of her children were like her—able to see through the veil of lies and deception. As she reached down to touch the blood on the floor, remnants of their lost pup, a surge of power coursed through her. She could see it clearly now; their bloodline was unique, and any child they had would inherit the same gifts.

The witch had released Avetta, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and understanding. Avetta had let it go; her life was already marred by Dorian’s cruelty. She had endured so much suffering and had come to terms with the fact that he only cared for her as a means to an end.

Then the witch had turned to Dorian, revealing the full truth. “Your daughter will be the most powerful blood witch, but without her mother alive, she’ll be easily controlled by you. Just don’t ever let her taste your blood. It will awaken her abilities, and she will see you for what you did to her mother.”

“Have the child, raise her properly, but ensure you have a firstborn with another to negate any chance of your firstborn killing you,” the witch had warned. “As long as she never tastes your blood, she will be loyal and devoted. But beware—a single drop will be your undoing.”

Avetta had understood the witch’s words all too well. They were not meant for Dorian but for her. The intent was clear: to show her a way to save herself and her child. A death at birth, a single drop of blood to activate her abilities.

Now, the moment had finally arrived. She was about to see her daughter again, a child who had the power to free her from Dorian’s grasp. Her daughter was strong-willed, capable of defying the very forces that sought to control her. Avetta could sense it—the awakening of her true lineage. Nothing could stand in her way now.

Even as a newborn, she had known that her daughter would be the one to save her, to break the chains that bound them both. It had taken time, but the moment was finally here. Avetta felt a surge of hope, knowing that her daughter would come into her power and that Dorian’s reign of terror was nearing its end.