They called me cursed.
Not in the way people threw around bad luck or superstition. Not the kind of curse you could shake off with a stiff drink and a forced laugh. No, mine came with whispered warnings and wolves who wouldn't meet my eyes. It came with dead mates and a reputation that clung to me like a second skin. And now, it came with a contract. The Council chamber smelled like burning sage and old power. Ten Elders sat in a semicircle, their expressions showing that they were emotionless, because their faces were blank, some showing quite disdain. In front of me, there’s a parchment laying on a polished mahogany table, it's the parchment that determines what will happen to me.Either good or bad. "You understand what this means, Seraphina Nightbane?" Elder Garrick spoke with the heavy voice of a man who had controlled too many lives"I sank into my chair and folded my arms across my chest. "That you’ve officially washed your hands of me?" A few of the Elders stiffened. Garrick, unsurprisingly, remained unshaken. "You will be mated by contract. A powerful Alpha has agreed to take you in." "Take me in?" I let out a short laugh, bitter and sharp. "You make it sound like a charity case." Garrick’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "You should be grateful." Grateful. Right. I stared at the contract, its edges curling slightly from the candlelight. My signature was already there, written in dark ink that might as well have been blood. "Which poor bastard got roped into this?" I asked, lifting my gaze. The doors creaked open before anyone could answer. A presence filled the room before I even turned my head. The scent hit first—crisp, sharp, like pine in the dead of winter, laced with something darker beneath. Kieran Stormclaw. The most feared Alpha in the werewolf world. He didn’t just enter the room; he claimed it. Every movement he made was like a king walking slowly and powerfully like there was nothing that could stop him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his black clothes were making him look more intimidating —like his patience had already run out. His sharp features and cold, unreadable gaze pinned me in a place like he expected me to look away or feel afraid in order to submit. I didn’t bow. "That would be me," he said, his voice smooth, even. "Try to contain your enthusiasm." I smirked. "Stormclaw. How lucky for me." "For a split second, the corner of his mouth moved jerkily—then his face turned to stone. "You’ve got a sharp tongue," he muttered, closing the space between us. "Hope you know when to bite it. ”Elder Garrick cleared his throat. "Seraphina, you will leave with Alpha Stormclaw immediately.’’ The contract is binding, as is the mate bond." Something shifted under my skin. A strange feeling settled in my lower back, like a warning I couldn’t quite understand. Not the bond itself—at least, not yet—but something like a whisper of it, waiting. Kieran felt it too. A flicker of something passed across his face before he turned back to the Elders. "We're done here." And just like that, I belonged to him. Black Moon Pack wasn’t just a pack. It was an empire. "The drive dragged on for hours, the forests blurring past beyond the estate walls.The sky glowed with streaks of orange and violet,as the car slowed in front of the packhouse. 'Nice place,' I murmured, stretching as I stepped out. "Very ‘villain’s lair in the middle of nowhere.’" The driver said nothing. Probably under strict orders not to. The front doors opened before I even reached them. Kieran stood in the entryway, arms crossed. He didn’t say a word, just watched, waiting. His wolves flanked him—three men built like war itself, their gazes locked onto me like I was a loaded gun with the safety off. I arched my brow. "You always greet your guests like this? Or just the ones you don’t trust?" One of the wolves stiffened. Kieran lifted a hand, a subtle gesture, but they stepped back immediately. He turned to me. "Inside." I hesitated a beat, and it was just long enough to make a point,then I stepped past him.As I was passing by him our bodies brushed one another with just a brief contact, but the gap between us is enough for a flicker of heat to spark. "His jaw tensed, but he didn't say anything. The house was an unusual mix of old-world charm and modern design, its sheer size is very large and overwhelming . The smoky scent of burning wood lingered in the air and blended with something familiar—something just out of reach." He shut the door with a soft click. 'Rules,' he said, his voice steady, leaving no room for argument. I let out a slow breath and set my bag on the nearest chair. "Already? At least let me find my room first." His gaze didn’t waver. "No running. No games. You stay where I can see you. You follow my lead. And you don’t test me." I tilted my head. "Define test." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Push me, and you’ll find out." A slow, sharp thrill curled in my chest. Dangerous. This was dangerous. But I’d spent my whole life balancing on the knife’s edge of survival. One more threat wouldn’t change much. "Got it," I said. "Anything else, Alpha?" He moved closer to me, his voice low,quiet, but firm. 'I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I want you to get one thing very clear—now you belong to me. And trust me, you’ll find out exactly what that means enough very soon.’’ I held his gaze, heartbeat steady. "To who?" His fingers brushed my jaw. A light touch. Intentional. "To everyone who will come for you," he said quietly. A chill rolled down my spine. "Who says anyone’s coming?" His smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Because you’re not just cursed, Seraphina." His voice was almost gentle. "You’re hunted." A sharp knock shattered the moment. Kieran’s intense look flicked toward the window. Before he turned, a muscle moved jerkily in his jaw, moving with the kind of predatory grace that made it clear he was ready for whatever—or whoever—was on the other side. Something inside me tightened. A warning. A knowing. He pulled open the door. And the scent of blood filled the room. The body lay crumpled at the threshold. Snow had begun to gather around the edges, staining the red mess of what used to be a throat. A message had been carved into the chest, deep and jagged, the letters raw against pale skin. I stepped closer, ignoring the static hum in my ears. Four words. That was all. Your mate will die. Kieran’s posture didn’t change, but the air around him did. The kind of stillness that came before storms. Before war. His gaze locked onto the message, then flicked to me. For the first time since we met, Kieran Stormclaw looked at me not as a contract. Not as a political move. But as a target. He exhaled slowly, then tilted his head. "Still think no one’s coming?" I swallowed. And for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure if I was the hunter—or the hunted.The body was still at the door.Blood seeped into the snow,and became dark and heavy against the white. The words carved into the dead man’s chest seemed to stare back at me. And to me it's a silent warning, a cruel reminder that no matter how far I ran, the curse always found me.Your mate will die.The message wasn’t for Kieran. It was for me.I knew it. He knew it. But neither of us said a word.Kieran Stormclaw stood beside me, arms loose at his sides, gaze locked on the corpse. He didn’t move, didn’t react—not in any way a normal person would. Most wolves would have snarled, barked orders, something. But Kieran?He just looked.Not with rage. Not even with concern. Just calculation.His silence grated on me.“"Huh. Didn’t expect you to take it this well," I said under my breath. I kept my arms at my sides, resisting the urge to cross them.Kieran shot me a quick glance.”Kieran’s eyes flicked toward me. Cool. Detached. "Would panicking change the situation?"The casual indifferenc
The Dead Don’t Stay Quiet The howl that woke me wasn’t from the wolves outside. It came from deep within the estate, raw and sharp. Something inside me said to me that this wasn’t over. The others had already arrived there,by the time I threw on a jacket and made it to the courtyard. The body slumped against the main gate,and a dark pool of blood was spreading beneath him. The sharp scent of blood lingered in the air make my stomach churn. No, this wasn’t just any wolf. It was one of Kieran’s.. The scrawled message showing across the iron bars made my stomach drop. YOU CAN’T PROTECT HER. Caspian stood rigid, his hands curled into fists clenched at his sides while Cian paced nearby,and restless energy was rolling off him. Ronan wasn’t actually looking at the body, but it's me he was looking at. Kieran knelt beside the corpse, pressing two fingers against the fabric. He wasn’t just checking the body; he was studying it. His eyes traced the wounds like they held a secret only he
The Writing on the WallBlood dripped from the message on the wall, thick and fresh.SHE BELONGS TO ME.The words stood out, clear and cutting. Even in the silence, they felt loud, like they were still hanging in the cold air.1Caspian stood next to me, his fists tight at his sides, his face was cold and unreadable. Cian shifted on his feet, and tension was rippling through his stance.Ronan hadn't looked away once, his steady gaze was still pressing into me, quiet and unshakable.Out of them Kieran was the only one who moved,he walked closer to the wall that had blood on it. He runs his fingers along the surface, tracing the smeared letters like they could tell him something he didn't know already. His jaw tensed, shoulders squared, but his expression stayed unreadable.Not like me."This wasn’t just a warning," Kieran said at last. His voice was quiet, but it carried. "This was a claim."Caspian exhaled through his nose, barely more than a breath. "A challenge." He quickly glanced in
The Dead Don’t LieThe scent of blood had already soaked into my walls.The dead man was lying sprawling across my floor, his lifeless fingers curling around my shirt like he had fought to keep the piece of my cloth in his grip, even after death. His dead gaze remained locked on the ceiling, while his mouth was slightly opened, as if he had been caught mid-scream.SHE BELONGS TO ME.The words carved into his chest were still fresh, the cuts on him were deep and messy. It's clear that the message wasn't written in haste. It was a statement made with purpose,in other to send a message that would not be forgotten.Kieran stood beside me, his arms crossed, unreadable as always. If the sight of another body in his estate disturbed him, he didn’t show it. He only watched, his expression was cool and calculating.Caspian crouched beside the corpse, his fingers hovering over the man’s throat. "Human," he murmured. "Not a wolf. No scent of a pack."Cian, who had been pacing like a caged anima
I woke with the taste of iron in my mouth and Kieran’s scent on my skin.My body ached. My head throbbed. My arm burned, as if it had been dipped in fire. The pain was dull at first, pulsing beneath the surface, but it grew with every breath until I couldn’t ignore it.The mark had spread.I didn’t need a mirror to know. It was in the way my skin felt stretched, in the sharp sting crawling up my veins like ink trying to rewrite who I was. I sat up slowly, my arms shaking as they held my weight. Even that small movement sent a wave of nausea rolling through me, like my body wasn’t quite mine anymore.The room was dim, quiet except for low murmurs just beyond the door. Familiar voices. Wolves. One of them said my name, low and tense. Then the door creaked open.Caspian entered first, his expression unreadable, eyes flicking to the bed, then to me. Cian followed, his energy bristling like he had something to say but hadn’t decided if it was worth saying. Kieran came last. He didn’t speak
The mark on my arm pulsed like a second heartbeat—constant, unwanted, and growing stronger with each hour.I stood alone in my room, sleeve rolled up, watching the black ink twist across my skin like it had a purpose. It didn’t stop at my shoulder anymore. It had crept toward my collarbone during the night, inch by inch, like it was hunting something inside me.I hadn’t told anyone.Not yet.Not because I was brave—hell, if anything, I was scared out of my mind. But I needed to understand what this thing was doing to me before the pack decided I was more curse than ally.There was something strange in the pull I felt, like the way a storm builds quietly in your bones. No thunder, no warning—just a slow pressure that doesn't let up. It pointed one direction. East. Toward Ronan’s land.Ronan’s land was off-limits. Everyone said so. Even Kieran, who rarely concerned himself with boundaries. Ronan’s wolves didn’t mix. His territory had its own laws, its own rhythm. People kept their dista
I didn’t sleep when I got back.The ruins had followed me home. I didn’t mean in the literal sense, but the weight of them clung to my skin like damp fog. The way the stone pulsed beneath my hands. The way my name had been spoken like a secret finally unearthed.The mark on my arm had gone quiet—for now. But that wasn’t peace. That was a storm waiting behind a closed door.By sunrise, something in the air had changed. Wolves moved differently, glancing over their shoulders like they expected the sky to fall. The pack felt brittle, held together with too many doubts and not enough trust.I didn’t know it yet, but the Council had already gathered. And they weren’t just talking strategy or land disputes. They were discussing me.Ronan found me in the east hall. I was walking in circles, pretending I wasn’t pacing."They want to see you," he said.I met his eyes. "Who’s they?""The Council. The Elders. Everyone."I sighed. "Of course they do. What now?""They saw something," he replied. "
He was dead the moment he said my name.Not in that casual way, not even with disrespect wrapped in humor. No, the rogue spit it like it was poison. Like I wasn’t standing ten feet away, surrounded by wolves who would tear him apart if Kieran didn’t get there first.And he did.Kieran moved before anyone could stop him. A blur. One second he was standing beside Ronan, arms crossed and quiet, and the next he had the rogue pinned against the concrete wall of the southern barracks."You want to repeat that?" Kieran's voice was low, but not soft. Nothing about him was ever soft.The rogue gasped, clawing at the arm across his throat. "I said she’s the cursed girl. And we all know she’s going to get us killed."I stood frozen, just outside the training yard. I hadn’t meant to overhear. I’d only come out to walk, to clear my head after the Prophet. After the vision. After everything that left me feeling like a ticking bomb with no instructions.Caspian appeared beside me, voice low. "You sh
If the dart didn’t kill us, the Council might.They arrived before sunrise. Four black cars pulled into the courtyard like sharks circling for blood. No flags. No insignia. Just cold engines and colder eyes behind tinted windows.We were already waiting. Kieran stood like a stone in front of the entrance. Ronan flanked him, arms crossed, unreadable. Caspian, expressionless. Cian... well, Cian looked like he’d rather bite than speak.And me? I stood between them all, the eye of a hurricane no one could seem to outrun.The doors opened. Three wolves stepped out. Two men, one woman. Their movements were too polished, too quiet. Not hunters. Not diplomats. Trained. Observant. Silent.Spies.The woman led. Jet-black hair pulled into a severe braid. Gray eyes. Sharp chin. She wore her authority like armor. "I’m Envoy Myra Vale," she said. "These are my associates, Dren and Kal. The Council has authorized a full internal review."Kieran didn’t move. "We didn’t ask for oversight.""You don’t
They didn’t go for me this time. They went for Ronan.We were barely five minutes into a strategy briefing when the windows blew in. One second we were arguing over guard rotations and safe room locations, the next—shattered glass and a hiss of air cut the room in half.Glass sprayed the floor, slicing the already thick tension in the room. A flash of silver cut through the air—a dart, thin and sharp, meant to be silent. Meant to be lethal. It struck the wall inches from Ronan’s head, the wood hissing where the metal sank in. A breath closer and he would’ve been dead.He didn’t flinch. That was what chilled me. Not the attack itself—we’d seen worse. But the way Ronan stared at the dart like it wasn’t even meant for him. As if death trying to shake his hand was just another boring meeting to endure.His eyes shifted slowly to the wall, to the shattered glass, then to me. Calm. Calculated."They’re escalating," he said. Just like that.Kieran was already at the broken window in seconds,
Sometimes, betrayal doesn’t come with a knife. Sometimes, it looks you in the eyes and says it loves you.The aftermath of the failed assassination attempt hung over the estate like fog. Heavy. Suffocating. No one said the word traitor out loud anymore, but it was in every glance, every unspoken pause between breaths. Trust had become currency—scarce, precious, unstable.We didn’t leave the main house. Not really. We lingered in shared spaces, feigned casual meals, over-guarded hallways. Everything was tense. Overcooked. I felt it every time one Alpha walked past another and didn’t speak. Our closeness had been burned through, and all that remained was the husk of what used to feel like unity.Caspian had taken to keeping records. A running list of patrols, guard shifts, item inventories, names. He wasn’t sleeping much. I passed by his study once in the middle of the night and saw him sitting with ink-stained hands, his jaw clenched as he scribbled notes like they were the only things
Trust is easy to offer until you realize you might be offering it to the one holding the blade.The bond had settled—but something about the quiet that followed made my skin itch. Not the kind of silence that came with peace. No. This was the kind that waited. Watched. The kind that tasted like betrayal on the back of your tongue before anyone said a word.By morning, the household moved differently. Tighter formations. More eyes on doors. More whispers. Word had spread that the bond had fully formed. No one said it aloud, but I saw it in their posture. Awe laced with fear. They didn’t know what it meant yet, and neither did I.The Alphas tried to act normal. Ronan made tea like he always did, though his grip on the cup was a fraction too tight. Caspian took his notes in the study, his pen never pausing even as his eyes flicked toward every sound. Cian sparred alone in the training yard like he could punch the anxiety out of his system. Kieran patrolled the grounds, eyes sharp, moveme
I woke with a name burning on my tongue—but when I tried to say it, it dissolved like ash.It clung to the edge of my thoughts, slippery and cruel. I sat upright, lungs heaving as if I’d surfaced from deep underwater. My sheets clung to me, damp and tangled, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if the sweat was from the vision or the panic that came after. I tried to hold on to the name, to trace the sound of it in my mind. But it vanished, like all the rest.Only one truth remained: the bond wasn’t waiting anymore. It was here.I dressed in silence, every movement slow, deliberate. My limbs were sore, my skin hypersensitive. The floor felt too cold, the air too sharp, my thoughts too loud. Something inside me had shifted. A storm brewing under my skin. The kind you didn’t outrun—the kind you endured.When I stepped into the hall, Ronan was waiting like he had been there for hours."It’s happening, isn’t it?" he asked. He didn’t blink.I nodded, rubbing my arms. "Too fast. Too hard. It doe
There are some dreams that feel more real than waking.When I finally drifted off after a long night of circling thoughts and second-guessing, the vision didn’t creep in—it slammed into me. No subtle whispers this time. No soft warnings. Just fire.It blazed in every direction, licking the walls of a circle drawn with blood. Symbols writhed across the ground like snakes, twisting and reshaping with every second. My bare feet stood at the center, stained red, breath hitching as power coiled around my ankles. The air pressed in from all sides, heavy and ancient and thick with meaning I didn’t understand but somehow knew mattered.Across the circle stood a figure, hooded, arms raised. They chanted words I didn’t recognize, but my bones understood. Words that called for sacrifice.And in the middle of the fire, suspended and bleeding, one of the Alphas hung by chains of light.His face was obscured—blurred like someone had smeared him with smoke. But I knew. Deep down, I knew.If I didn’t
Monsters rarely wore masks. The best ones wore familiar faces.By the time I got back to my quarters, the fire in my chest had turned into something else—a slow, quiet rage that curled up next to my bones like it belonged there. The others hadn’t noticed I was gone until I reappeared in the council hall just before dawn, Caspian behind me, the journal clutched to my chest like a weapon.I didn’t sleep that night. I tried. But sleep only teased, like a cruel friend brushing past my shoulder and disappearing before I could reach. I stared at the ceiling for hours, my body exhausted, my mind wide awake.When I finally closed my eyes, the vision came.It started with darkness, thick and absolute. But this wasn’t the kind that swallowed you whole. It was alive. Breathing. It pulsed with something ancient and watching.Then came the sound. Whispered words I couldn’t make out at first, like they were being spoken underwater. I turned in the vision, searching for something, anything. The air
I thought the worst truth was not knowing. I was wrong.It was knowing, finally, and realizing the silence had been safer.The morning after Caspian's claim, after Kieran’s retreat and his near-surrender to something that looked like compromise, I needed clarity. Not from the Alphas. Not from prophecy. From my own cursed past.I slipped out before dawn, leaving a note behind so they wouldn’t tear the territory apart looking for me. The forest was quiet, heavy with dew and old magic. My boots crunched over undergrowth, and every step toward the hidden archives felt like trudging through molasses. Each breath I took felt heavier than the last, like the truth was a stone tied to my ribs. The quiet was welcome and suffocating at once.Ronan had once told me about the sealed records. The ones that didn’t make it into the Council's official archives. The ones buried beneath stone and spell and time. He hadn’t said I couldn’t go there. But he hadn’t exactly handed me a key either.I used the
It didn’t feel like freedom. Not yet.Knowing I had a choice was one thing. Knowing what to do with it was something else entirely. My whole life had been about surviving what came at me, not deciding who I wanted to be. And standing between four Alphas who would bleed for me? That wasn’t power. That was pressure. Immense. Suffocating. Some days, I couldn’t breathe under it.The wind bit as we rode back into the compound, and I felt raw. Like the scroll had peeled back something inside me and left it exposed to the world. I kept running the seer's words over in my head: the hand that breaks or the one that weaves. But what if both hands were mine? What if I wove something only to watch it tear apart anyway?Kieran dismounted first, silent as always when his thoughts turned sharp. Ronan gave me a look that lingered, the kind that didn’t press for answers but knew they were coming. Cian stretched his arms with a grunt, already asking someone for food. And Caspian—He didn’t say anything