The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate
Chapter 106: A Life For A Life

Chapter 106: A Life For A Life

Esme remained where she was, observing the gruesome scene in front of her. Her eyes watered upon realizing that this had been the reality to the stories told, the truth hidden beneath years of misunderstanding.

He was wronged.

The king laughed, the sound of his laughter echoing off the walls. Meanwhile, Donovan cradled his mother’s lifeless body in his arms, her still heartbeat impacting sorrow into his heart.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his tone raw with pain. The blindfold was slick with blood, and it hung loosely around his neck. The agony he had endured must have been excruciating, clouding his senses and leading to the tragic failure of the attack.

Esme’s tears streamed down her face, and the king, with cold indifference, yanked the bloodied sword from Madora’s lifeless body, then rested the edge against Donovan’s throat.

"Any last words before I send you to join your mother in hell?" he asked, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. But, the boy didn’t flinch. Donovan only cradled his mother as though she were still alive, softly whispering apologies that only seemed to deepen the haunting silence filling the chamber.

Esme felt the air shift. The dark energy she had sensed earlier seemed to thicken, creeping ominously into the king’s private quarters. It felt suffocating, like a palpable, growing malice.

Her gaze darted to Donovan out of instinct, and she sensed a sudden change in him. His body went stiff as though he’d been possessed by some dark force. He gently lowered his mother to the ground, his movement deliberate, yet there was no sign of fear as the king’s blade pressed firmly against his neck.

Sensing his negative reaction, the king applied more pressure to the point Esme swore she felt Donovan’s pain, yet even then, he didn’t so much as blink.

Something was disturbingly wrong. Esme could feel it – the sinister energy swirling around him, thickening the air like a storm on the brink of unleashing its fury. The king must have sensed it too, as Donovan’s voice broke the silence. It was calm — unnervingly calm — carrying the weight of an impending disaster, like the quiet before a tsunami crashes ashore.

"She only wanted the war to end," he began. "She wanted to explain everything to you in the hopes you would work with her. The worst you could have done was refuse her offer. You made her believe you sought the same peace we all did. But I see now, I was wrong. We were all wrong."

His voice was oddly calm, an unsettling stillness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air. The king, hiding his own discomfort behind a veneer of mockery, sneered. "You’re nothing more than the spawn of evil. Just a worthless child."

But Donovan was far from being a child at that moment. Dark, unrelenting power swirled within him, both untamed and dangerous, as his silent rage consumed him. The dark sky outside the palace walls flashed with sparks of lightning, and then there was the sound of thunder rumbling ominously in the air.

The king, in his show of dominance to put an end to the boy before he did something outrageous, drew back his blade and swung it down towards Donovan’s neck. Yet, just as the blade neared its mark, it froze – suspended a mere inch from his skin. Time itself seemed to halt around Donovan, and to the king’s horror, he found himself paralyzed, unable to move.

"Go die," Donovan whispered, his voice laced with a quiet menace. In an instant, the world jolted back to life, and an invisible force hurled the king across the room, slamming him against the pillar with such brutal force that it shattered and buried him under its broken pieces.

The sword clattered from his grip, whilst he registered the shock of everything that just transpired.

"A life for a life," Donovan continued, rising to his feet. He stretched one bloodied hand forward, and as if drawn by some unseen force, the blade flew back into Donovan’s grasp like a magnet.

His presence became dark and terrifying, with dark mist swirling around his form. Esme heard every door and windows lock by themselves, as if Donovan was using his powers to trap them in.

"I’ll give you what you crave," he removed the blindfold he used to wrap his neck, tossing it aside, the wound already healed, hence, he continued to approach the king. "It seems we won’t be needing any form of partnership after all — I’ll start the war by taking your life first."

And then he moved. Donovan’s leg’s propelled him forward with such speed that the king was momentarily stunned, caught off guard by the sudden retaliation. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a flash of silver cut the air like lightning, the blade slicing brutally across his left eye.

More blood.

The king groaned in pain from the unexpected assault, agony painting his visage as he stumbled back. He muttered a curse, vein popping on his forehead with anger.

"You little runt!"

"Has the world always looked so red?" Donovan asked, his voice disturbingly calm as he ran his tongue over the blood now streaking his face, his fangs evident in his mouth. But he didn’t pause — his attacks came relentlessly as the king tried to get back to his feet, using the king’s momentary hesitation to his advantage.

"The scent of death..." he whispered. "It makes me want to kill everything in my path."

The king barely had time to process the searing pain in his ravaged eye before Donovan’s strikes shifted, mercilessly targeting his legs. The king struggled to follow the boy’s movement with his one eye, but he was too fast, too fluid, and within seconds, the blade had plunged deep into his chest before he even realized.

He gritted out when Donovan planted the blade hilt-deep in his chest, blood streaming down his clothes, but he couldn’t attack.

At that moment, it wasn’t the same Donovan standing there. His expression, his gaze – it had transformed into something terrifyingly inhumane, as if possessed by a cold, unrelenting fury that unlocked his curse, hence, the runic marks flared. He locked eyes with the now silent, stunned king, and in the hollow depths of Donovan’s stare was something far darker than any child could possess.

The once frightening king dropped to his knees, and Esme watched in horror as thin, crimson tendrils began to snake their way across Donovan’s hand. When his fingers tightened around the king’s throat, the tendrils plunged mercilessly into his skin.

The agonizing penetration had the king struggling, and he choked out. "Get off me!! Guards!!"

Donovan pulled out the silver blade from his chest and attempted to shove it into his mouth, basically down his throat. But before he could silence the king, a bang on the door made him halt.

The sound of the door being heavily banged on the other side did not deter Donovan, who immediately shoved the blade into the king’s mouth, and Esme’s eyes snapped open with force.

She bolted upright on the bed, gasping for air, her heart racing uncontrollably. She was back in Donovan’s chamber, but what stunned her more was when she saw Donovan leaning against the headboard, clutching the crescent moon pendant tightly in his hand.

"No one was supposed to see that... stupid necklace!" he muttered, his grip tightening as he tried to crush the pendant, but Esme was quicker. She snatched it from him before he could destroy it.

"What gives you the right to do that?" She demanded, still panting.

"Give me the pendant," Donovan growled, his voice laced with frustration, but Esme hid it behind her back.

"No!" She refused

"Esme, listen to me, give it to me now!" His voice trembled, desperation flickering in his visage as he demanded for the pendant. But instead of fighting him, Esme wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

"Why are you so shaken?" she whispered gently, feeling him tense against her. "Calm down. What were you thinking when you tried to destroy it??"

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