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, un
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. "
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