Mated To The Alpha King (Raven and Ethan) novel Chapter 288

**TITLE: No More 288**

**Chapter 288**

**Alpha Ethan’s POV**

Fifty-five vouchers.

As I sat in the chair, an overwhelming sense of paralysis gripped me. My legs felt leaden, my lungs struggled for air, and my thoughts were a chaotic whirlpool. It was as if my entire being was ablaze, yet beneath that fire, there was an unsettling chill—an emptiness that gnawed at my insides, rendering me hollow.

Frustration bubbled within me like a pot about to boil over. I had no means to release it, no outlet for the storm raging inside. Without thinking, I slammed my hands down on the table, the sound reverberating through the study like a clap of thunder.

“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?” I bellowed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

My chest heaved up and down in rapid succession, each breath coming in sharp, jagged bursts as I leaned forward, gripping the table’s edge as if it could anchor me against the tempest within.

But nothing could quell the chaos. Nothing could soothe my frayed nerves. Nothing could mend what had been shattered five long years ago.

Five agonizing years.

My wolf.

My other half.

My strength.

My purpose.

Silent.

Dead to me.

Gone.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and tight, and shut my eyes, reaching out to him once more. “Blade,” I whispered, the name of my wolf slipping from my lips like a prayer, a ritual I had performed every single day for the last five years. “Please… talk to me. Say something. Anything. Just once.”

Silence.

That same deep, chilling silence that had haunted me for half a decade wrapped itself around me once again, suffocating me. I pushed harder, my mind stretching, yearning for even the faintest echo of a growl… a whisper… anything to remind me he was still there.

Nothing.

My fingers trembled with desperation. “Please, don’t do this. I need you. I can’t feel anything without you. Just answer me… please.” My voice cracked, morphing into a feeble plea, a whisper of a man clinging to hope.

Still, there was nothing.

In that moment, it felt as if my heart shattered a little more, crumbling under the weight of despair.

My wolf had abandoned me.

Or perhaps… he was fading away.

I opened my eyes, staring blankly ahead, my vision clouded with unshed tears. “What am I supposed to do?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loud might shatter the fragile illusion of control I clung to. “How am I supposed to know my mate? How am I supposed to recognize her scent? How am I supposed to feel her?”

My throat constricted painfully, each word a dagger. “The full moon is close. Too close. If I don’t find her and mark her before then… I will lose him completely.” My voice trembled with the weight of the thought. “Lose him forever.”

The notion pierced me like a knife, twisting deeper with every heartbeat.

If I lost my wolf, I wouldn’t just be weak; I would be less than human. An alpha without a wolf. Useless. Broken. Unfit to lead. Unfit to protect anyone.

“What is the essence of living,” I whispered, “when everything that made me an Alpha is slipping away little by little?”

My voice grew louder, fueled by the fire of my anguish. “Hasn’t the moon goddess punished me enough?! Isn’t five years of this torment enough?! I can’t shift. I can’t feel. I can’t lead the way I used to. Isn’t that death itself?!”

My chest tightened painfully, constricted by the weight of my despair.

I couldn’t remain in the study any longer. I needed air—something, anything to distract me from the walls that felt like they were closing in.

With an urgency born of desperation, I pushed my wheelchair back and wheeled out of the study, my heart pounding in my ears like a war drum. The hallway felt too bright, too quiet, and my skin prickled with a restless energy that begged for escape. But where could I go?

As I turned the corner, I caught sight of Reven walking toward me. Our eyes met, and she paused for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her features. I remained silent, unwilling to break the fragile barrier between us. She didn’t speak either, but I could see it—the pity in her gaze.

Pity.

It was the one emotion I despised more than anything else.

Without a word, I looked away and wheeled past her, the weight of her gaze heavy on my back until I turned into my hallway. Anger and shame swirled within me, mingling into a suffocating cocktail that made it hard to breathe.

Upon reaching my room, I slammed the door shut, harder than I intended. The sound echoed off the walls, reverberating through me and amplifying the chaos inside.

I headed straight to the minibar, my hands shaking slightly as I opened it and grabbed the first bottle that caught my eye. I didn’t even bother with a glass.

I uncorked it and drank straight from the bottle, swallowing quickly, as if the liquid could drown the turmoil within me.

It didn’t.

The burn was intense, but it didn’t reach deep enough to numb the agony.

I finished the first bottle, leaving it empty and worthless—just like me. I grabbed another, opened it, and drank. And drank. And drank. But no matter how much I consumed, the pain in my chest remained stubbornly intact.

Why couldn’t I get drunk? Why couldn’t I forget?

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