Mated To The Alpha King (Raven and Ethan) novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Alpha Ethan’s POV

Five Years Later

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“Wake up, Dad, I’m almost late for school,” a little voice broke through the heaviness of my dreams, dragging me back into a reality I could never quite escape.

I felt the light pressure of small hands shaking my arm, impatient yet warm, and a familiar scent of strawberry shampoo lingered in the air.

My eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the morning brightness spilling through the curtains, and the first thing I saw was Zara, my daughter, my world, my only reminder of Ava.

Her big brown eyes blinked at me with a mixture of excitement and impatience. She stood by the bed, clutching her backpack strap in one hand, her dark curls tumbling around her shoulders like Ava’s used to. For a moment, my heart clenched painfully in my chest.

Every time I looked at her, it was like seeing Ava again alive, smiling, waiting for me to say something foolish so she could roll her eyes.

“Dad,” Zara tugged my blanket when I didn’t respond fast enough. “Come on, it’s time for breakfast. You promised to eat with me today.”

I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and forced a smile. “I didn’t forget, princess. Breakfast with you, always.”

She tilted her head, studying me like she always did whenever she thought I was lying or stalling. My little girl had inherited Ava’s sharpness, that uncanny ability to read through people.

“You almost forgot,” she accused, but her lips broke into a grin before she turned to dash out of the room. “Don’t be late!”

As her laughter echoed down the hallway, I sighed deeply. That sound bright, unbothered, pure was the only thing that kept me from breaking apart completely.

Pulling my wheelchair closer, I shifted into it and wheeled myself toward the bathroom. Every morning was the same: the weight of my position as Alpha, the emptiness of my bed, the constant ache of living without

Ava.

It had been five years since she died during childbirth, leaving me with Zara. Five years of fighting battles inside and outside my mind. Five years of raising a daughter alone, with only occasional help from maids and pack members who pitied me more than they respected me.

I splashed cold water on my face, staring into the mirror. The man who stared back was not the Ethan I used to know. My hair was streaked with silver at the temples, my once sharp jaw covered in stubble I hadn’t bothered to shave in days.

My eyes, gods, my eyes looked dead sometimes. An alpha was supposed to be strong, unshaken, a symbol of power for his pack. But inside, I was fractured, stitched together only by my love for Zara and my

sense of

20:32 Thu, Oct 2

Chapter 227

duty.

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“Five years,” I muttered under my breath, leaning heavily on the sink. “Five years, Ava, and I still can’t breathe without you.”

But I had to. For Zara.

I took a quick bath and dressed in a simple outfit, nothing flashy, just a navy shirt and black trousers. Today wasn’t about me; it was about keeping my promise to Zara.

I wheeled out of the room, my hands firm on the rims of the chair, pushing myself forward. The halls of the pack house felt emptier than they once did, as though laughter had long abandoned the walls.

When I entered the dining room, Zara was already there, sitting at the long table and chatting with Beta Matthew’s son, a boy her age. She looked so much like Ava when she smiled, her cheeks dimpling, her voice carrying light into spaces I thought would forever remain dark.

As soon as she saw me, she lit up even more. “Dad! Come sit with us!”

That warmth in her eyes that was what kept me alive.

I wheeled closer, muttering under my breath, just like her mother.

Breakfast was simple: scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit. But with Zara beside me, every bite felt like something sacred. She talked non–stop, her little hands moving animatedly as she told me about school, about how her teacher said she read faster than anyone else in class, and about how her classmates sometimes teased her.

I listened, nodding, pretending that nothing else in the world mattered. And for those few minutes, it didn’t. It was just me and my daughter, sharing a meal.

When we were done, I wheeled out of the dining room, Zara skipping along behind me, humming a tune only she seemed to know. Outside, the car was already waiting. The driver opened the door, helping Zara in first, then me.

As the engine started, Zara’s voice cut through the hum of the vehicle.

“Dad… will you celebrate my birthday this year?”

Her words were soft, but they pierced me deeper than any blade ever could.

I turned to her slowly, my chest tightening. She was staring at me with hopeful eyes, eyes that didn’t understand the weight of the date she spoke of. “What do you mean, princess?” I asked carefully.

She fiddled with her fingers, looking down. “My classmates said I don’t have a dad who can throw me a party. They laugh because I never celebrate. They said, Maybe you don’t care about me.”

My heart stopped.

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