Piper Redding
“Block your ex so he can’t call you.” Dr. Fletcher’s voice rings through the room, sharp and final, like the toll of a bell. I feel it deep in my chest. She sits at the head of the circle, her legs crossed in a way that suggests she’s used to taking control. Her pen taps against the edge of her notebook with a rhythmic precision that only adds to the weight of her words. Her eyes scan the room, pausing on each woman for just a moment too long, her gaze measuring, almost as if she can see straight through us. “December is when he’ll crawl back,” she continues, her voice calm, almost too calm. “Don’t let him ruin your holidays like he’s done before.” I stiffen in my chair, gripping my phone so tightly it feels like my fingers are starting to numb. The way she talks, like it's so simple, so clear—block him and move on. Her words are supposed to feel empowering, but they only tighten the knot in my chest because I can’t even bring myself to hit the button. I clutch my phone like it’s a lifeline I’m afraid to let go of. “The only gift he ever gave you was worry and strife,” Dr. Fletcher says, her voice unwavering. “He’ll try to wish you a Merry Christmas, but don’t forget how he wrecked your life.” Around me, the other seven women nod, a mix of murmured agreement and shared sighs filling the room. I can’t bring myself to join them. My phone vibrates in my hand, and my breath catches. It’s not him—just a spam message—but my reaction makes it painfully clear how tightly he still has me wrapped around his finger. It’s pathetic, the way I still react to it. “I can’t block him,” I whisper, though no one asked me to speak. Dr. Fletcher’s sharp gaze lands on me, and the room goes quiet. “Why not?" I open my mouth to explain, but the words stick in my throat. How do I explain that even after everything, even after what I saw, part of me still hopes he’ll change? That maybe, just maybe, this time it’ll be different? I shake my head, my eyes dropping to my lap. “Does he deserve to have this much power over you?” Dr. Fletcher asks, her voice softer now but still pointed. I know what she’s getting at. I know what she wants me to say. But I can’t help the flood of memories that rush in—five years’ worth of them. I see his face as clearly as if he’s sitting across from me: Adam’s crooked smile, his dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the way his green eyes seemed to pierce straight through me. I remember how he used to hold my hand late at night, promising me forever, making me believe we were invincible. And then there’s that moment, the one I’ll never forget. Three weeks ago, he called me in the morning, his voice raspy, telling me he wasn’t feeling well. I cancelled my performance at a six-year-old party and decided to surprise him with soup and tea from his favourite café. I had no idea that I was about to be the one who got a surprise. When I arrived at his apartment, I used the spare key he’d given me, my heart already pounding with worry. But the moment I stepped inside, I heard it. Laughter. Soft, intimate voices coming from the bedroom. I froze in the doorway, the world tilting beneath me. My breath caught in my throat. I followed the sounds, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor, my heart beating faster with every step. When I reached his bedroom door, I saw him. Adam, the man I thought I knew, leaning over a woman with long blonde hair, her laughter mixing with his in a sound that felt like a punch to my gut. I dropped the soup, the lid popping off as it hit the floor. Both of them froze, their heads snapping toward the door—my gaze. For a long, painful moment, no one moved. “Piper,” Adam whispered, his face draining of colour as he scrambled off the bed. I didn’t wait for an explanation. I turned and ran, the sound of his voice calling after me barely registering over the roaring in my ears. He begged for forgiveness, swearing it was a mistake. That every guy does it. That it’s normal. And I believed him. At least, part of me did. It’s not like I was new to this. My first boyfriend cheated too. So did all of my friends’ boyfriends. Hell, even they cheated back, laughing about it like it was just some game. “Cheat back,” they told me. “That’s the only way to win.” But I couldn’t. That’s not me. So why does it keep happening to me? I was supposed to be different. I get compliments all the time—guys tell me I’m beautiful, I’m smart, I’m everything they want. But still, they cheat. They go for the girls who aren’t even as pretty as I am. I don’t get it. That’s why I’m here, sitting in this therapy group. I enrolled in secret, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I could finally learn how to stop letting him have this hold on me. But I’m not sure I’m ready to let go. “I still love him,” I admit quietly. The room falls silent. A couple of the women exchange looks, their expressions a mix of pity and disbelief. “Love?” Dr. Fletcher’s voice slices through the quiet. “Do you love him, or do you love the version of him you thought he was?” Her question lands like a slap, and I feel my cheeks heat. I don’t know how to answer. “I—” My voice cracks, and I choke on the words. “I can’t throw away five years. We’ve been together since college. I can’t just... let it all go.” “Why not?” Dr. Fletcher leans forward, her eyes never leaving mine. “Is it because of the time? The memories? Or are you just afraid of being alone?” I look down at my phone; the screen too bright in the dim light. I feel her words cut into me. The truth hurts more than I thought it would. I’m scared of being alone. He was the only one I had. My parents never cared about me—not really. I’ve always been alone, and now, I’m just... terrified of facing that reality. It's funny how I spend my life making people laugh, especially children, yet deep down, I feel sad and lonely, as if something is missing. “I just…” I trail off, gripping my phone even tighter. “I can’t delete his pictures. It feels like if I do, then all of it will be gone. Like none of it mattered.” “Does it matter if it’s keeping you stuck?” I don’t respond. Beside me, a woman in her forties with streaks of grey in her hair lets out a low sigh. “I used to think like that too,” she says, her voice full of quiet wisdom. “Until I realised that holding onto the past doesn’t keep you warm at night. It just keeps you stuck.” Her words sting, but they also settle deep inside me, like a truth I’m not ready to admit. “Think about it,” Dr. Fletcher says, her tone softening. “You’re holding onto someone who told you cheating is normal. Someone who thought so little of you that he didn’t just betray you—he made excuses for it. Is that really the kind of love you deserve?” The tears spill over now, hot and relentless. I wipe them away quickly, but it doesn’t stop the shaking in my hands. I know she’s right. Deep down, I know. But knowing it and acting on it are two very different things. Dr. Fletcher stands, walking to the middle of the circle. “I’m not saying it’s easy,” she says, her voice gentler now. “But the first step to healing is choosing yourself. Block him. Delete the pictures. And remind yourself that his opinion of you doesn’t define your worth.” I nod, though it feels like I’m doing it mechanically. I’m not ready yet, and I think she knows it. As the session wraps up, I linger in my chair while the others shuffle out. My finger hovers over Adam’s contact; the words Block this number? staring back at me like a challenge. Sighing, I step out into the cool evening air, my phone still gripped tightly in my hand. The sound of my heels against the pavement is the only noise in the quiet night. As I approach my car, I freeze.. There he is. Adam.Piper Redding His Leaning casually against my car, arms crossed, head tilted back like he owns the damn place. How did he find me? Of course—how could I forget that his uncle is a detective?My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, my feet refuse to move. Even in the dim light of the parking lot, he looks as maddeningly good as ever—broad shoulders, messy hair that somehow falls perfectly, and that stupid smirk that once made my knees weak.“Breathe,” I whisper to myself. My fingers curl tighter around the strap of my purse, and I force myself to keep walking. My heart pounds so loudly I swear he can hear it, but I steel my spine and lift my chin.“What the hell are you doing here?” I glare.He straightens up, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches me approach. “I came to see you,” he says, his voice smooth like he’s still the guy I used to know. Like nothing’s changed.““You’re not supposed to be here,” I snap. “I told you to stay out of my life.”“How can I not?”
Piper Redding The drive to my parents' house feels endless, the engine's steady hum failing to drown out the unease twisting in my stomach. When I finally pull up, the sprawling estate looms ahead, picture-perfect as always—a constant reminder of everything I’m not.I step onto the stone path, and before I even reach the heavy oak door, it swings open. Mom stands there, arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.“You’re late,” she snaps, her voice as sharp as the chill in the evening air. “We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”“Sorry, traffic,” I mutter, brushing past her into the warmth of the house.Inside, my sister, Paige, is already at the dining table with Greg, her fiancé. She glances up, her perfectly styled blonde hair catching the light just right, as always.“Traffic?” she repeats with a smirk. “Or did that clunker of yours break down again? Poor thing couldn’t handle the speed limit. You really should upgrade, Piper.”I force a tight smile and head s
Piper Redding The wheels of my luggage squeak loudly against the polished airport floor as I drag them behind me. My arms are already sore, and I haven’t even boarded the plane yet. Around me, couples linger in clusters, holding hands, leaning into each other, and laughing like life is some endless rom-com.One guy wraps his arms around his partner, whispering something that makes her giggle. The sound grates against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I tighten my grip on the handle of my suitcase and keep walking, head held high, refusing to let their sickening happiness get to me.When I finally reach the ticket counter, the attendant gives me a polite smile, but I can feel the stares before I even present my ticket.“Um, excuse me?” A woman’s voice cuts through the noise of the terminal.I glance to my left and see her: tall, blonde, perfectly manicured nails tapping against her designer tote. Her smile is all teeth—the kind of fake politeness that reminds me too much of Paige.
PiperThe breakfast room buzzes with quiet conversations, silverware clinking against porcelain plates. I hesitate at the entrance, clutching my bag against my side like it’s a shield. Couples fill every table, laughing, whispering, and sharing intimate smiles. It’s a stark reminder of why I shouldn’t have come for this couple-centric getaway alone. I feel like an out-of-place puzzle piece, awkwardly standing in the doorway.Steeling myself, I head to the buffet and fill my plate. Eggs, toast, fruit—safe options. My appetite isn’t really there, but the food is included, so I might as well eat. Plate in hand, I scan the room for an empty table. That’s when I spot Amber.She sits with her picture-perfect blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips quirking into that smirk that makes me think of Paige—my sister, my tormentor, my constant reminder of what I’ll never be. Amber’s eyes meet mine, and her smirk deepens, a mocking laugh in disguise. Who are you going to eat with, lonely
Elijah LykonShe’s beautiful and small, like a fairy. My fairy. I was whipped before our story even began.The moment I saw her on that bus, it felt like time stopped. Maybe it did. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my idea of building this hotel—a desperate, last-ditch attempt to find her—would actually work. I knew my mate wasn’t in our world. I had searched every corner, leaving no stone unturned. The human world had been my last hope, and here she was.I should be overjoyed. My plan worked. She’s here, but then my joy soured into confusion and anger. Why was she here? And alone? The thought of her coming to a retreat meant for couples, possibly hurt and abandoned, sent a fresh wave of rage through me. No one should dare hurt her.My wolf growls in my mind, the sound low and guttural. “Shouldn’t you be happy she’s alone? This way, we don’t have to kill anyone.”“Maybe,” I mutter, flexing my hands into fists. “But I hate that she might have been hurt. No one gets to hur
Piper I step into my room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Leaning against it, I exhale, still replaying the moment those piercing blue eyes locked onto mine during breakfast. It wasn’t just the way he looked at me—there was something in his gaze, something possessive and oddly intimate that sent shivers down my spine. I shake my head, trying to push the memory aside.Focus, Piper.After a quick shower, I pull on a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose, white cropped sweater, and my trusty canvas boots. I tie my black hair into a messy bun and grab my leather jacket just in case it gets chilly later. Comfortable and casual. Nothing to catch anyone’s attention. That’s the goal, right?As I step into the hallway, closing the door behind me, I see her—Zoe. She’s down the hall, locking her door. Surprisingly, she’s alone. No sign of her insufferable boyfriend hovering over her like a possessive shadow. She must feel my gaze because she looks up suddenly and smiles, lifting a
Piper I sit at the corner of the bar, the room spinning slightly from the wine. Another empty glass sits before me, and I motion for a waiter, trying to shake off the weight of all the judgemental stares."One more," I slur, waving my hand with an air of indifference.The waiter hesitates but nods, just as Zoe suddenly appears out of nowhere, placing her hand over my glass. "Isn’t that enough?" she asks, her voice light but tinged with concern. "You’ve been drinking all afternoon, and it's obvious why."I blink at her, feigning ignorance. "What are you talking about?"She rolls her eyes and sits down beside me. "Come on, Piper. You’re missing him."I straighten in my seat, crossing my arms defensively. "Missing who? You’re being ridiculous."Zoe leans in closer, her brows raised knowingly. "Oh, please. You’ve been sneaking glances at the door ever since he handed you that glass of wine earlier. And I told you he’d show up again, didn’t I? Granted, he’s not the millionaire boss we tho
PiperThe garden is breathtaking. I step through the wrought-iron gate, and it feels like I've walked into another world. Twinkling fairy lights drape from trees, their golden glow illuminating a cobblestone pathway lined with vibrant flowers. The air smells like roses and jasmine, and a soft breeze carries the chirping of crickets. I stop in my tracks, my mouth slightly open.“How does a waiter have access to… this?” I can’t hide the disbelief in my voice. My eyes dart to him, but he simply smirks, gesturing toward a small table in the center of the garden.“Have a seat,” he says, his voice smooth, yet carrying an edge that leaves me unsettled. He pulls out the chair for me, and I sit down, feeling the weight of his gaze on me.He takes the seat across from me, leaning back casually, like he owns the place. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you?”I take a deep breath, my palms sweating despite the coolness of the evening. “I’m not going to waste your time.” My voice is more c
Elijah’s POV I arrive at the location, my jaw tightening the moment I recognize it. Of course, it had to be here—our father’s mansion. The man barely sets foot in the human world anymore, but this place still reeks of memories I’d rather bury six feet under. I should’ve known Nicholas would run straight to the only man who ever indulged his darkness. I don’t bother knocking. The front door is unlocked, swinging open with an eerie creak. The house is silent, unnaturally so, like no one’s lived here in years. But I know better. The stench of death lingers in the air, unmistakable, leading me like a beacon. Nicholas. I follow the scent, step after step, down the long, dimly lit hallway. My fingers itch to unsheath my claws, but I force them to stay human. I don’t need my wolf for this—I just need to end it. Then, I see the door slightly ajar at the end of the hall. My heartbeat slows, steady and controlled, as I push it open. Nicholas sits slumped in a chair, his head hanging low,
Elijah stands at the head of the dining table, looking effortlessly handsome. My parents pause for a moment, taking him in, and I don’t miss the way my mother’s breath hitches, or the way Paige’s eyes widen slightly.I smirk, stepping forward. “Mum, Dad, meet my mate—”I catch my slip and quickly correct myself. “I mean, my husband.”Elijah’s lips twitch with amusement as he extends a hand. “Elijah,” he introduces himself smoothly, his deep voice like silk. His gaze is sharp yet undeniably charming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”My mother stares at him like he’s a god. “He’s so… handsome.” She exhales shakily. “I’ve never seen anyone with such deep blue eyes…”I flick my gaze to Paige, whose jaw is slightly slack as she drinks in Elijah’s presence. A slow smirk spreads across my face as I lean back. “What about Greg?” I ask innocently. “Didn’t invite him for dinner? Oh, I bet he’s too busy running away with Mum and Dad’s fortune.” I laugh, a sharp, hollow sound, wiping an imagina
The bar is dimly lit, filled with the stale scent of alcohol and desperation. I weave through the crowd, my sharp gaze scanning every face, every shadowed corner.Then I hear it.A sharp, sickening slap.My ears perk up, my werewolf senses sharpening, and the unmistakable sound of a man's leering voice cuts through the noisy bar.“Come on, sweetheart. Just be nice to me.”“No—let go of me!” a familiar voice protests, laced with exhaustion and humiliation.I snap my head in the direction of the voice and my breath catches in my throat when I see her.Paige.But she’s unrecognizable. Her once-bright blonde hair is dull and faded, her face hollow and tired, her once-proud stance reduced to something small and beaten down. She looks like a ghost of herself.A filthy man with a bulging stomach and greasy hands grips her arm, his fingers digging into her skin as he smirks down at her. His other hand lifts again, about to strike—I move.Before his hand makes contact, I shoot forward with in
Elijah takes my hands, his thumb running slowly over my knuckles."Are you ready?"We stand before his massive black wolf painting, the creature’s eyes glowing faintly, watching us—as if aware, as if waiting. This journey is different. This time we are leaving Zoe and Ryder in charge of the pack until we return.I swallow, my gaze flickering to the new painting beside it—my wolf. My own portal to the human world. It still feels surreal knowing I now have access to both worlds. No longer just a human. No longer powerless."Yeah… just nervous," I admit.Elijah’s lips curl into a soft smile. "You’ll be fine, my Luna."His voice drops to a low, melodic hum as he begins to chant, the ancient words rolling off his tongue like a song only wolves understand."Na'vethar ka vethril, se'reythar ka mor'zhil dharani."(Open the gate, reveal the path to the mortal realm.)The moment the words leave his lips, the painting in front of us trembles, the canvas rippling like water disturbed by a stone.
Elijah Two weeks have passed, and yet, I still replay that moment in my head—Piper standing in front of my pack members, fierce and unyielding, defending me with every ounce of fire in her. My mate. My Luna.I should have forced them all to their knees, made them submit with my Alpha command, or cast them out into the streets for their disrespect. But I didn’t. Because I understand their frustration. I know why they acted the way they did. And that’s the difference between a tyrant and a true leader.That doesn’t mean my patience isn’t wearing thin.Right now, I’m sitting at the head of the long council table, my fingers drumming against the polished wood, as the elders argue amongst themselves like a bunch of squabbling hens. My jaw tightens. They’ve been pushing me, testing me, thinking I’ll break under their bullshit.Elder Marcus, the smug bastard, leans forward with a smirk. "Alpha Elijah, the two weeks are up. There has been no announcement of a pregnancy, which means—""Which
PiperThe crowd erupts into laughter—not just a few chuckles or scattered snickers, but a full-blown roar of amusement, as if I’ve just told the most ridiculous joke of the century.The elderly woman who spoke first sneers, her wrinkled face twisting with disdain. “Respect?” she repeats mockingly. “Alpha Elijah doesn’t deserve our respect anymore. He abandoned us for five years—five years while the curse took hold of our people. And now, he waltzes back in as if nothing happened?" Her gaze shifts to Elijah, her expression a mix of contempt and sorrow. "Where was he when we needed him?"The hostility in the air is suffocating.Elijah’s jaw clenches, but he remains silent. Beside him, Ryder looks ready to pounce, his hands curled into tight fists at the blatant disrespect toward his Alpha.Another elder, a man with a hunched back and eyes clouded with age but still burning with resentment, raises his voice. "We suffered. How many years have passed without us seeing our children and gran
Piper’s POVLast night was hell.Even with the walls separating us, I could hear Zoe crying. The sound of it seeped into my bones, and no matter how much I tried to shut it out, it clung to me, thick and heavy. Her pain was suffocating. My heart ached for her, and I cried too—maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just because I couldn’t stand hearing her break like that.When I woke up, my eyes were swollen, and my head pounding from the lack of sleep. Elijah had told me Ryder finally broke the news to Zoe about her babies, and since then, she hadn’t stopped crying. At one point, I even wished I wasn’t a werewolf, that I was still human—because then I wouldn’t have to hear every gut-wrenching sob.Now, as I step out into the cold morning air, I wipe my swollen eyes and make my way toward the entrance of the Luna Court. Elijah had told me we’d be leaving today, that I didn’t need to pack—not that I had much to begin with. Honestly, I was relieved to leave this place behi
Piper’s POVI sprint down the hallway, my breaths coming in sharp, panicked bursts. The walls blur past me, the thick scent of antiseptic and blood clinging to the air, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.Please, let Zoe be okay. Let the babies survive.The thought of her lifeless, her babies lost forever to Serena’s dark magic, squeezes my heart, making it harder to breathe.I push through the clinic doors, and the sight before me makes my stomach drop.Zoe lies on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, her body covered in wires and IV drips. Ryder is sitting beside her, his large hand cradling hers, his thumb gently stroking her skin as if his touch alone could keep her anchored to this world.A sob escapes my lips before I can stop it.Ryder’s head snaps up, his tired eyes meeting mine. His face is etched with grief, exhaustion lining every sharp angle of his jaw. He bows his head slightly in acknowledgement before pressing a lingering kiss to Zoe’s knuckles. Then, he carefully places her
Her scream reverberates through the walls, sending my heart into a frenzied rhythm. But I stay pressed against the cold surface, keeping up the act.Serena glares, her chest rising and falling. “I have lived a thousand years,” she hisses. “And I am so close to becoming truly immortal. If I have to destroy all of you a thousand times to get there, then so be it.”She gestures toward Zoe with a flick of her wrist. “Your friend and her unborn children? They’ll give me, what? A hundred years at most? But you, Piper…”She steps closer, her cold breath ghosting against my skin.“The baby growing inside of you… your soul…” She smirks, her voice dropping to a whisper, laced with something dark and triumphant. “That will unlock my immortality.”My entire body goes still.Did she just say…?I have a baby growing inside me?I’m pregnant? Right now?Fuck.A lump rises in my throat as I lift my gaze to Zoe. She meets my eyes with a tired, sad smile—a silent congratulations, though she looks like s