Mated To The Alpha King (Raven and Ethan) novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225

Alpha Ethan’s Pov

&

I woke up to the sun so high today that it almost blinded me while sleeping, its rays sneaking in through the curtains Ava had always insisted should be drawn at night.

She liked the sunlight, said it made mornings feel alive. But for me, today, it only felt like punishment, an intrusive brightness in a world that had gone unbearably dark.

I turned to the other side of the bed, stretching my hand out of habit, hoping maybe, just maybe, I would feel the warmth of her beside me. But like yesterday, and the day before that, and the night she slipped away forever, it was empty.

Cold. Silent. My palm pressed into the sheet as if I could pull her spirit back, but all I touched was absence.

A small tear escaped, rolling down the side of my cheek onto the pillow.

I wiped it quickly, ashamed of my weakness even though no one was watching. You can’t break down now, Ethan, I whispered to myself. Not today. Not when everyone is depending on you. Not when your daughter is depending on you.

Ava’s dying wish still echoed in my head, fragile yet powerful: Promise me, Ethan… promise me you’ll be strong for her. Don’t let her feel the emptiness of losing me.

Those words were the only thing keeping me upright. Today wasn’t about me, or even about Ava—it was about our daughter..

About giving her the strength she would one day need to carry the memory of her mother with pride, not sorrow. And today… today was the day I would have to bury the woman I thought I’d grow old with.

Dragging myself off the bed felt like tearing my soul out of my chest. I whispered, “I have to be strong,” and repeated it until the words carried enough weight to hold me up.

I went into the bathroom, and for the first time in years, I washed myself without her gentle hands to guide

1. me.

Ava had always insisted on helping me, even when I told her I could manage on my own. She loved those quiet, intimate mornings, teasing me for being stubborn while she lathered soap across my shoulders.

I would give anything to feel that again. But today, the water was just water cold, empty, unforgiving.

When I was done, I stood dripping in silence, staring at the mirror.

My reflection looked like a stranger hollow eyes, pale skin, lips pressed into a line so tight it might never loosen again.

The man staring back at me wasn’t Alpha Ethan, feared by many and respected by all. He was just a widower. A broken father.

I opened the closet and pulled out a black hoodie and matching black pants. Ava had once joked that black

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 223

In his office, he sank into his chair, rubbing his forehead. I didn’t sit I couldn’t. My fists clenched and unclenched at my sides, my chest heaving.

“Your wife,” he began, his tone heavy, “she has a lung disease. It made breathing while giving birth extremely difficult for her. She”

“I don’t want to hear about that!” I slammed my hand against the desk, making papers scatter. My voice thundered. “Where is Ava?!”

“Alpha, please, calm down.““WHERE IS SHE?!” I roared, my voice breaking, raw with fear.

He straightened, meeting my furious gaze with one that was calm but unbearably heavy. “She gave birth to a baby girl.”

For a moment, my world shifted. A girl. My daughter. My blood. Ava’s gift to me. A fragile smile ghosted my lips, a spark of joy daring to pierce the darkness.

But then the doctor’s next words shattered me.

“…but unfortunately… we lost her.”

The ground fell out from under me.

The room spun. My ears rang. The clock ticked on the wall, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. The words echoed, stabbing into me again and again. We lost her.

“No…” My voice was a whisper, barely recognizable. “No. No, no, no.”The doctor swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging. “We tried our best, Alpha. We did everything we could. But… she couldn’t make it alive.”

AD

Comment

Send gift

No Ads

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 924

Chapter 224

Alpha Ethan’s Pav

魚蛋

I left the doctor’s office, his words still echoing in my head like a curse I could never escape. We tried our best… but she couldn’t make it alive.

The hallway stretched before me like an endless tunnel, pale lights flickering overhead.

I wheeled down the corridor like a man without a soul, each step heavier than the last, as if the floor itself wanted to drag me down into the earth with her. The voices around me were muffled, distant. Nurses murmured.

People bowed their heads as I passed. But I didn’t hear them. I didn’t see them. My vision had narrowed to a dark tunnel, my body moving on instinct alone, guided only by grief.

The door to her room was half open when I reached it. My hand hovered over the handle, trembling violently. For a long heartbeat, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. The metal felt like ice against my palm, but somehow I pushed it fully open.

The smell hit me first iron, antiseptic, and something worse: silence.

Ava lay on the bed.

Her body still. Her chest unmoving.

Her skin was pale, almost translucent, her lips drained of the rosy warmth I loved to kiss. She looked like she was only sleeping too still, too cold to ever wake again.

My heart cracked wide open, the pain so sharp it stole my breath.

I staggered forward until I was standing at her bedside. My fingers trembled as I reached out, brushing over her face.

The warmth I had known, the softness of her skin that used to spark fire under my touch, was gone. She was

cold.

So very cold.

And she wasn’t breathing.

That could only mean one thing.

She was gone. Forever.

My chest tightened, my lungs squeezed as if the same sickness had taken hold of me. I dropped to my knees beside her, clutching her limp hand to my lips, pressing frantic kisses into her frozen skin.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracked, hoarse and broken. “Why didn’t you tell me you had that kind of sickness, Ava? You knew I would have stopped this; I would have protected you. I wouldn’t have let you get

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 224

pregnant, not like this, not with your lungs so weak.”

The words tore out of me like glass shards, each one cutting deeper than the last.

“And now…” My forehead pressed against her arm, the sobs shaking through my body. “Now you’re gone. You left me… you left me alone. And with a child to look after”

Tears that I had fought with every ounce of strength since the waiting room finally broke free. Hot, unrelenting, they streamed down my face, soaking her hospital gown.

I wept like a man who had lost the only thing that tethered him to life.

I remembered her smile then, unbidden. The way she used to curl into my chest on quiet nights, whispering about the future she dreamed of a home filled with warmth, laughter, and maybe a child or two.

She had wanted this so badly, wanted to give me a family, even when I never asked. Even when she was the family I needed.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time had no meaning anymore.

I stayed there, clinging to her hand as if my grip could anchor her soul back into her body. But she remained cold. Silent.

The door opened behind me. Soft footsteps entered the room. But I didn’t move, didn’t lift my head, and didn’t care.

“All I want is to cry my heart out,” I whispered to myself, my voice breaking.

“Alpha…” a voice called gently.

I didn’t answer.

“Alpha,” the voice tried again, closer now. “Do you… do you want to see the child?”

The words sliced through me like a blade. My shoulders stiffened, but I still didn’t raise my head. My throat burned with the bitterness of bile and grief.

“Leave,” I muttered.

“But Alpha,” the voice persisted softly, “the baby needs your presence. She hasn’t stopped crying since she was born. She’s looking for you.”

My grief exploded into fury. My head snapped up, my face wet with tears, my eyes red and burning.

“I don’t fucking care!” I roared, my voice shaking the walls. “Get out! I don’t want to see the baby!”

The person flinched, silence filling the room again, thick and suffocating.

After a long pause, the voice returned, lower, hesitant. “Alpha… she’s your daughter. She“.

“GET OUT!” I bellowed again, standing now, my chest heaving.

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 224

My wolf growled in tandem, a guttural sound of rage and pain. His growl echoed mine, his grief manifesting

anger

The footsteps retreated, the door creaked, then shut. Silence returned, thicker than before.

I turned back to Ava, collapsing against her once more. My tears fell harder, unstoppable. My hand shook as it brushed over her hair, her lifeless cheek.

“I don’t want to see her,” I whispered brokenly. “I don’t want to see the child.

She’s the reason. The reason you aren’t breathing. The reason you left me. The reason I’ll never hear your laugh again. Never feel your warmth again.”

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, sobbing into her cold skin.

“She took you from me. And I can’t.” My voice cracked, shattered into silence.

I stayed like that, crumbling, holding on to a body that would never hold me back, cursing the child I refused to face.

田

AD

Comment

Send gift

No Ads

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 295

Chapter 225

Alpha Ethan’s Pov

I woke up to the sun so high today that it almost blinded me while sleeping, its rays sneaking in through the curtains Ava had always insisted should be drawn at night.

She liked the sunlight, said it made mornings feel alive. But for me, today, it only felt like punishment, an intrusive brightness in a world that had gone unbearably dark.

I turned to the other side of the bed, stretching my hand out of habit, hoping maybe, just maybe, I would feel the warmth of her beside me. But like yesterday, and the day before that, and the night she slipped away forever, it was empty.

Cold. Silent. My palm pressed into the sheet as if I could pull her spirit back, but all I touched was absence.

A small tear escaped, rolling down the side of my cheek onto the pillow.

I wiped it quickly, ashamed of my weakness even though no one was watching. You can’t break down now, Ethan, I whispered to myself. Not today. Not when everyone is depending on you. Not when your daughter is depending on you.

Ava’s dying wish still echoed in my head, fragile yet powerful: Promise me, Ethan… promise me you’ll be strong for her. Don’t let her feel the emptiness of losing me.

Those words were the only thing keeping me upright. Today wasn’t about me, or even about Ava–it was about our daughter..

About giving her the strength she would one day need to carry the memory of her mother with pride, not sorrow. And today… today was the day I would have to bury the woman I thought I’d grow old with.

Dragging myself off the bed felt like tearing my soul out of my chest. I whispered, “I have to be strong,” and repeated it until the words carried enough weight to hold me up.

I went into the bathroom, and for the first time in years, I washed myself without her gentle hands to guide

1. me.

Ava had always insisted on helping me, even when I told her I could manage on my own. She loved those quiet, intimate mornings, teasing me for being stubborn while she lathered soap across my shoulders.

I would give anything to feel that again. But today, the water was just water cold, empty, unforgiving.

When I was done, I stood dripping in silence, staring at the mirror.

My reflection looked like a stranger hollow eyes, pale skin, lips pressed into a line so tight it might never loosen again.

The man staring back at me wasn’t Alpha Ethan, feared by many and respected by all. He was just a widower. A broken father.

I opened the closet and pulled out a black hoodie and matching black pants. Ava had once joked that black

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 225

made me look too intimidating, like a storm about to break loose.

Today, that was the only thing I felt capable of being a storm barely held back.

2300

When I finally wheeled myself out of the room, the low hum of voices reached me from the living room. Guests had already gathered pack members, friends, allies, and, most importantly, Ava’s family. They all stood when I entered, their faces painted with grief, some offering soft nods, others clutching tissues.

Ava’s mother was near the center of the room, cradling our daughter gently in her arms. My throat tightened at the sight.

She had been helping me with the child since the tragedy. I didn’t know my way around motherhood, not the way Ava had. I hadn’t figured out the rhythm of midnight feedings, lullabies, or soothing cries.

But Ava’s mom stepped in, her love for her daughter spilling over to care for her granddaughter.

“She looks so much like Ava,” I whispered without meaning to.

Her mother looked at me, eyes glistening. “She carries Ava’s spirit, Ethan. Don’t forget that. And she still has you. That’s what Ava wanted.”

I nodded stiffly, afraid that if I spoke again, my voice would betray me.

Soon, it was time. I ushered everyone out of the house and toward the pack cemetery. The air was heavy, not just with grief but with silence–an unnatural quiet that even the birds seemed to honor.

At the center of the cemetery, where graves were neatly aligned and flowers bowed their heads in mourning, a table had been placed. On it lay a coffin, polished wood that seemed too final, too cruel for someone like Ava, who had been the very definition of life.

The priest stood by, his hands folded, his eyes lowered. Guests settled around the space, some in seats, others standing. My heart pounded in my chest as I positioned myself close enough to see, but far enough to hide the storm raging inside me.

The priest began to speak, his voice carrying the weight of tradition and ritual. He spoke of Ava’s kindness, her laughter, and her loyalty.

He called her a light that had touched every corner of the pack, a Luna whose presence had strengthened us all. I sat still, gripping the arms of my chair so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Each word was a dagger. Each memory spoken aloud was a reminder that I would never hear her voice again.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I told myself. Be strong. For her. For our daughter.

When the priest was done, family members were invited to come forward and see her one last time before she was laid to rest.

My chest seized as her parents approached, tears streaming freely as they clutched each other for support. Then her siblings, her cousins, and her closest friends.

Each one lingered, whispering their goodbyes, leaving pieces of their hearts inside that coffin.

12:47 Tue, Sep 30

Chapter 225

Finally, it was my turn. I wheeled forward slowly, every inch feeling heavier than the last. My eyes locked on the coffin, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

1

When the lid was gently lifted, I caught a quick glimpse of her face. Peaceful. Still, Too still. She looked like she was only sleeping, waiting for me to nudge her awake..

My heart screamed at me to reach out, to touch her one last time. But my hand froze mid–air. I couldn’t. If I touched her, I feared I would shatter completely.

So I took one quick glance, burned it into my memory, and wheeled away as fast as I could. My chest heaved, but I forced the tears back, biting my lip until I tasted blood.

When everyone had had their moment, the coffin was closed again. The sound of wood sealing against wood echoed through me like a death knell. Slowly, it was lowered into the earth.

That was when the realization hit me like a crushing wave: I wasn’t going to see her anymore. No more mornings filled with her laughter. No more hands reaching for mine.

No more stolen kisses when no one was watching.

All I had left now were memories fragile, untouchable, and fading with every passing second.

As the first handful of soil hit the coffin, my vision blurred. My heart whispered the words I couldn’t say aloud: Goodbye, Ava. Goodbye, my love.

But even as the burial continued, a part of me refused to accept it.

Something inside me whispered that this wasn’t the end, that her presence couldn’t simply vanish.

And that thought, whether delusion or truth, kept me rooted in my chair, gripping the wheels, staring at the grave as if it would open again.

The ceremony faded into a blur of voices, prayers, and tears. But all I heard was silence. All I felt was the emptiness of a bond severed too soon.

And as the final shovelful of earth covered the coffin, I knew this was only the beginning of a new battle the fight to live without her.

AD

Comment

Send gift