Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 143

The King. My father. Dead?

No. No, that’s impossible. My father can’t be dead. He’s too strong, too unshakable, too–everything. He’s the Alpha King. He can’t just… be gone.

The words burn inside me, sharp and unreal. I can’t breathe, can’t even think. My lips move before I can stop them, barely more than a whisper.

“Take me to my father.”

I try to push myself up, but the moment I shift, Jack is there, pressing me gently back against the sheets. His touch is careful, too careful, like I might shatter.

“Wait,” he says softly, voice breaking with worry. “Let me go myself while you rest.”

Rest.

The doctor shakes his head, wringing his hands. “Alpha Jack is right. Princess, you need to rest. For the baby. Too much strain now could cause…another complication.”

Their voices blur in my ears. Rest. Baby. Complications. None of it matters. My father is gone.

“Rest?” My voice cracks, harsher than I intend. I clutch Jack’s wrist, staring into his eyes. “My father is dead, Jack. Take me to him.”

He exhales, eyes closing for a second as if my words slice him too. “I don’t want you stressed, Kali. Not after-” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening. “Not after we almost lost the baby once already. I can’t-”

“I won’t,” I breathe, shaking my head fiercely, tears blurring my sight. My hand slips to my belly, stroking the curve there with trembling fingers. “I promise, I won’t do anything to lose our baby this time. But please… please, Jack. As his daughter, I should be the first to see his body.”

The room falls silent. Jack exhales, the sound raw, defeated. Without a word, he slides his arms beneath me and lifts me as though I weigh nothing.

I cling to his shirt, burying my face in his chest while he carries me out of the clinic. His heartbeat thunders against my ear, uneven and frantic, every step echoing like a countdown.

The east wing has never felt so far away. Every corridor stretches like a thousand miles, dragging me through memories I wish I could silence. The guilt gnaws at me, sharp and relentless.

The last time I entered his office–the very first time, in fact–wasn’t even for him. I had gone there desperately searching for my mother, only to find him instead, hunched in pain, suffering beneath the weight of the mate bond he shared with her. I can still see the shock in his eyes when he looked up and found me standing there, as though he couldn’t believe I had come. Yet even then, even through his

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ayony, ne tried to reach for me, tried to mend what was broken between us.

And now? Now I would give anything for one more moment. One more word.

My throat tightens, a prayer slipping through clenched teeth. Oh, dear Moon Goddess, let it not be true. Please, not yet. We haven’t bonded. I haven’t… I haven’t told him I’ve forgiven him.

But deep down, I already know. The truth presses down on me, suffocating. His presence–that powerful scent of smoke and iron, always threaded with something warmer, something fatherly–has already begun to fade.

By the time we reach the heavy doors of his office, my chest feels split in two.

Jack’s voice rumbles low above me, pulling me back from the storm inside my head. “Are you ready to meet him?”

My fingers clutch tighter at his shirt. My lips part, but no sound comes.

Because how do you answer that?

How do you prepare yourself to face your father’s death?

I nod, my throat too tight for words.

Jack lowers me carefully onto my feet, his hands steadying me as though I might collapse. My knees nearly do when he pushes the heavy door open.

The scent of iron and smoke lingers thick in the room, but it’s not alive–it’s stale, heavy, wrong.

And then I see him.

My father. The Alpha King.

He’s sitting in his great chair, his head tilted back, as if he’s merely gazing at the ceiling in thought. For a fleeting second, hope claws at me–maybe the guard was wrong, maybe he’s only resting, maybe-

But then I see his eyes.

Not the emerald green I share with him, not the fierce fire I grew up both fearing and yearning for. His eyes are white. Empty. A ghost’s stare. Dark smoke coils around his head like a crown of poison. His skin is pale, stretched thin, the color of ash.

“No…” My voice cracks in the air, raw and desperate.

Beside me, Jack whispers, grief rough in his throat. “I think his soul left his body.”

The words rip me apart. I scream, stumbling forward, reaching for him–but Jack’s arms lock around my waist, dragging me back against his chest.

“You can’t touch him,” he growls, though his voice trembles with the effort of holding me. “Kali–listen to me. He did a dark magic ritual. Until we know what kind, we can’t risk it. If it’s still active, your soul could be taken too.”

“I don’t care!” I thrash against him, sobs ripping through my chest. “He’s my father-”

“I know!” Jack’s voice breaks as he pulls me tighter, holding me against his heartbeat. “I know. But I can’t lose you too.”

Through the blur of my tears, I hear his voice snap at the guard, harsher than I’ve ever heard him sound. ” Get the High Chief Priest. Now. Tell him the King… the King needs to be seen immediately. He’ll know what this means.”

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