Mated To The Alpha King (Raven and Ethan) novel Chapter 305

**TITLE: No More 305**

**Reven’s POV**

After Alpha Ethan had fed me that nourishing soup, I could feel a change within me. My body was beginning to regain its strength, but my heart remained a heavy anchor, burdened by thoughts I dared not voice. I pushed myself off the bed, stretching slowly, allowing the gentle afternoon sunlight to envelop me in its warm embrace, like a soft blanket after a long, cold night.

As I stepped out into the hallway, a strange stillness enveloped me. It was too quiet. My frown deepened as I glanced around, sensing the silence pressing in, almost suffocating. It was already midday, and I hadn’t seen the children yet.

No laughter echoed in the air. No tiny feet scampered down the hall. No sweet voices called out, “Mummy, Mummy!” as they always did, filling the space with their joy.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips, a sound filled with longing and worry.

I can’t imagine my life without them.

Those children were the balm for wounds that no adult had ever bothered to acknowledge. They were the last remnants of softness in my life, the flickers of light in a world that had relentlessly tried to shatter me.

The mere thought of them being far away sent a shiver of fear coursing through my veins, a fear I struggled to comprehend.

I hurried toward their room, my steps quickening with each passing moment. Just as I was about to knock, I heard their soft giggles, the delightful sound of childish chatter, and the rustling of pages being turned. Instantly, relief flooded my system, loosening the tension in my shoulders.

I pushed the door open, and the moment they caught sight of me, the world around me faded into oblivion.

“Mummy!”

Three tiny bodies launched themselves at me like little rockets, wrapping their arms around my waist with a fervor that nearly knocked me off balance. Their warmth seeped into my being, calming the tempest that had taken residence in my heart.

“How are my babies doing?” I asked, gently running my fingers through Zara’s hair, savoring the moment.

“We’re fine!” they chimed in unison, their voices ringing with joy. “Daddy was with us since morning! He just left.”

“Oh…” I murmured, a mixture of emotions swirling within me. I was unsure how to feel about Ethan’s visit. My relationship with him was a complicated labyrinth that I had yet to navigate, each twist revealing new wounds I hadn’t anticipated.

But seeing my children smile was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Well then,” I said, crouching down to their level, a smile breaking across my face, “why don’t you grab your toys, and we can go out for a little adventure?”

“YES!!!”

They didn’t wait for further encouragement. Like a pack of eager puppies, they scattered, grabbing dolls, tiny soldiers, stuffed animals, and toy cars—anything their little hands could manage to carry. Their excitement lifted a weight off my heart, a brief reprieve from the shadows that lingered.

I made my way to the kitchen, gathering snacks: small sandwiches, biscuits, juice boxes, and slices of fruit. The kitchen staff observed me with curious eyes but remained silent. They knew better than to pry into my thoughts.

With the kids ready, I led them outside toward the training grounds. It wasn’t the typical picnic spot, but today, I craved a clear view of the woods. There was something about those trees that beckoned to me—their silence, their wildness, reminding me of a part of myself I seldom acknowledged.

The warm air wrapped around us, accompanied by a gentle breeze as I spread the mat on the grass. The children quickly settled down, arranging their toys with a logic only they understood. Zara meticulously lined up her dolls as if preparing them for school, Lucian positioned his toy warriors in a half-circle as if they were guarding us, and Lyra, my sweet baby girl, was already chewing on her juice box straw.

I handed out the snacks, my heart swelling with affection.

“Eat slowly,” I warned, narrowing my eyes playfully.

They nodded seriously, but predictably, their enthusiasm got the better of them, and they dove into their food.

As we enjoyed our picnic, something caught my eye—a figure moving near the entrance of the woods.

Initially, I brushed it off. Many pack members wandered into the woods to shift or find solitude; it was a common sight.

But as I focused on the distant figure, recognition washed over me—the silhouette, the posture, the tilt of the chin, the bounce in the walk.

Vera.

A frown creased my brow.

She rarely ventured off alone, and her furtive glances suggested she was trying to avoid being seen.

My heartbeat slowed, then quickened, a sense of unease creeping in.

Something felt off.

I tried to dismiss it. Maybe she was simply going to release her wolf, I reassured myself. It was a normal occurrence, nothing to worry about.

Yet, my instincts remained restless.

Minutes passed, the children were absorbed in their play, laughter ringing in the air, blissfully unaware of my growing concern.

But my thoughts were no longer on them; they were fixated on the figure that had vanished into the trees.

Finally, I stood up, my resolve hardening.

“Keep playing,” I instructed softly, my voice steady. “Mummy will be right back.”

“Okay!” They didn’t even glance up, too engrossed in their imaginative worlds.

I walked toward the woods, each step feeling heavier than the last. As I entered the canopy, the air shifted—cooler, darker, more silent. Even the wind felt different, brushing against my skin in a way that sent chills racing up my arms.

Following Vera’s footprints was easy; she hadn’t bothered to conceal them. Typical arrogance.

The deeper I ventured, the more my stomach twisted with unease. Something was terribly wrong.

Then, I heard voices.

I froze behind a thick tree, holding my breath, straining to listen.

A man emerged from a darker part of the woods, his presence striking like a slap. There was something wild about him—untamed, dangerous, and cold.

A rogue.

Everything about him screamed danger—the stance, the scent, the silence.

But then, I noticed something else.

As he approached Vera, the sleeve of his shirt shifted, revealing a tattoo on his arm.

A deep-black crescent moon marred by three claw marks.

My blood turned to ice.

I recognized that symbol instantly.

No memories were needed.

No explanations.

I didn’t require a second glance.

The moment my eyes fell upon it, I knew it was the signature tattoo of a rogue faction I was all too familiar with—a mark that no pack wolf would ever dare to wear.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Before I could process the implications, Vera threw herself into the man’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her voice dripping with affection.

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