I sit on the edge of the coffee table, my elbows resting on my knees, staring at Katya as she holds Milanya close to her chest. It’s quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire, but the weight of everything I need to say hangs between us.Katya hasn’t pushed me away—not yet—but I see the guarded look in her eyes, the way she holds herself a little too still, like she’s bracing for something. It guts me more than I want to admit.I rub a hand over my face, dragging in a deep breath before I finally speak. “I need to apologize.”Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wary. “For what?”“You know what,” I say, my voice low. “For the other night. For yelling. For losing my damn temper and scaring you—and her.” I nod toward Milanya, who’s still sleeping soundly against her.Katya’s gaze softens just slightly, but she doesn’t let me off that easily. “Ruslan... it wasn’t just yelling. You were angry.”I nod, shame curling in my gut like a fist. “I was. And that’s on me. I shouldn’t have let it happ
I pause at the front steps of the pup center, staring at the worn wood of the door like it might swing open and swallow me whole. The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I have to swallow down the anxiety that rises with it.I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m not the one who did anything wrong. And yet, as I stand here, I can already feel the weight of what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door.I take a breath—deep and steady—before pushing it open and stepping inside.The noise hits me first, as it always does: the sound of children laughing, playing, and the faint scurry of tiny footsteps across the floor. It’s the one thing about this place that never changes, no matter how tense the air might be.But it’s different today.The women notice me immediately. Their conversations die mid-sentence. The air shifts, thick and stifling. They don’t stare outright—no, that would take a backbone they clearly don’t have. Instead, they look past me, around me, through me, like I’m noth
The fire crackles in front of me; flames licking at the sky as Andrei’s pyre burns. The scent of smoke fills the air, and the heat from the blaze is so intense that it almost feels like it’s burning me from the inside out. I stand there, frozen in place, clutching the fabric of my black dress as if it can somehow ground me, somehow stop the spinning inside my head. It doesn’t. Nothing does.Tears blur my vision and I blink them away, refusing to let myself fall apart in front of the pack. I’m their Luna, their leader now, and I can’t show weakness, not even when the man I loved more than anything is nothing but ash and memory. But it’s impossible to hide the way my body trembles, the way every breath feels like I’m suffocating under the weight of the grief crushing my chest.I look up, and there’s Andrei’s face, still so vivid in my mind. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. How he would rest his hand on my belly, even before I told him I was pregnant. I
Three weeks of building anger, of restless nights, and waking up to an empty bed that should still belong to Andrei. Three weeks of watching the pack try to move on, while I can’t seem to move past the moment I lost him. Every breath I take feels tainted by the fact that the man responsible for his death is still alive, breathing the same air as the rest of us. But today, that changes.Today, the Rogue filth dies.I stand at the front of the clearing, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch the pack gather, their faces filled with cold satisfaction and pure anger. They want blood, justice for their Alpha, and I want it more than anyone.Every nerve in my body is taut with fury. My hands shake at my sides, but not from fear. From rage. The kind of rage that’s settled into my bones, burning hotter with every passing day. How dare he live while Andrei’s body is ash? How dare he get to breathe even for a second longer?Tomas approaches, his face set in a grim line. “It’s time.”I nod,
RuslanThe second I lock eyes with her, my chest tightens, and something snaps deep inside me. No. No fucking way. This can’t be real, it has to be some sick joke. There’s no fucking way the Goddess would curse me like this—mate me to the Luna of the bastard who took everything from me and made me watch.I can feel the bond pulling at me, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. It claws at my insides, trying to drag me toward her, as if my body doesn’t even belong to me anymore. I grit my teeth, my muscles tensing, and fight the urge to give in. It’s not possible. It’s not fucking possible.Her scent hits me again—fucking peaches and honey— it’s something that stirs parts of me I’ve buried for a long time. But I don’t want it. I don’t want her. My mind rebels against the very idea. I look at her, the way her face is twisted in shock, her lips parted, and her hand gripping her chest like she’s trying to stop her heart from breaking out. She’s just as confused as I am, but
KatyaI pace back and forth in Andrei’s office, the one place I used to feel safe, where everything felt secure, and now it feels like a prison. My heart pounds in my chest, my breaths coming in uneven, angry bursts. I’m furious. Not just at Ruslan, though he’s a big part of it, but at myself.How could I let this happen? How could I let that Rogue get under my skin like that? The way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter at all. The nerve of him, sneering at me, laughing like the bond was some kind of joke. I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white, trying to steady myself. But nothing helps. I want to scream. I want to tear something apart. I can still see his face, the way his cold silver eyes locked onto mine, that damn smirk on his lips. He acted like he didn’t care about any of it—about me, about the bond. Like he’s above it all. What’s worse is the way my body responded to him, like it was out of my control. The bond hit me li
The chains bite into my wrists, burning like fire as the silver seeps into my skin. My arms feel like dead weight, hanging uselessly above me, held up only by the restraints that have become a part of me now. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? Time doesn’t exist in this cell. There’s only the darkness, the endless ache in my body, and the gnawing emptiness where food and water used to be.I try to remember when I last ate, but the memory slips away, lost in the fog of pain. My mouth is dry, my throat raw, but even the need for water has faded into something dull and distant. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does. The only thing I can feel now is the burn of the silver and the weight of my past pressing down on me.I close my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I can disappear. But even in the dark, the memories come.Mina. Mila.I see their faces so clearly, so full of life and laughter. The way Mina would chase Mila around th
I step into the dimly lit cell, the cold stone walls making it feel more like a tomb than a prison. The scent of damp air and blood hits me immediately, and I pause at the threshold, my stomach twisting. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. But I need to face him. I need to tell him the verdict and make this right.But as soon as I see him, hanging there by his wrists, half-dead, my breath catches in my throat. He’s broken. His silver hair, matted and tangled, clings to his sweat-slick skin, and his bare chest is covered in fresh and old scars. His wrists are raw, the silver chains biting deep into his flesh, burning him. There’s blood, so much blood, but that’s not what hits me hardest. It’s the look on his face, the way he’s staring at me with a distant, haunted expression, his eyes glassy, lost in some memory I can’t reach.For a moment, I hesitate. I was prepared for anger, for defiance, for that cold indifference he always wears like armour. But this… this is something else. He lo
I pause at the front steps of the pup center, staring at the worn wood of the door like it might swing open and swallow me whole. The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I have to swallow down the anxiety that rises with it.I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m not the one who did anything wrong. And yet, as I stand here, I can already feel the weight of what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door.I take a breath—deep and steady—before pushing it open and stepping inside.The noise hits me first, as it always does: the sound of children laughing, playing, and the faint scurry of tiny footsteps across the floor. It’s the one thing about this place that never changes, no matter how tense the air might be.But it’s different today.The women notice me immediately. Their conversations die mid-sentence. The air shifts, thick and stifling. They don’t stare outright—no, that would take a backbone they clearly don’t have. Instead, they look past me, around me, through me, like I’m noth
I sit on the edge of the coffee table, my elbows resting on my knees, staring at Katya as she holds Milanya close to her chest. It’s quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire, but the weight of everything I need to say hangs between us.Katya hasn’t pushed me away—not yet—but I see the guarded look in her eyes, the way she holds herself a little too still, like she’s bracing for something. It guts me more than I want to admit.I rub a hand over my face, dragging in a deep breath before I finally speak. “I need to apologize.”Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wary. “For what?”“You know what,” I say, my voice low. “For the other night. For yelling. For losing my damn temper and scaring you—and her.” I nod toward Milanya, who’s still sleeping soundly against her.Katya’s gaze softens just slightly, but she doesn’t let me off that easily. “Ruslan... it wasn’t just yelling. You were angry.”I nod, shame curling in my gut like a fist. “I was. And that’s on me. I shouldn’t have let it happ
I’m halfway to the pup center before I even realize I’ve left the cabin. My boots slam against the frozen ground, every step fueled by the burning rage twisting through my chest.Katya didn’t say much when I came home—she didn’t have to. The moment I walked in and saw her sitting on the couch, staring at nothing with that look in her eyes, I knew. Someone had hurt her. Again.And this time, I wasn’t going to let it slide.The moment I storm into the pup center, the air shifts. I can feel their gazes snap toward me—startled, wide-eyed, nervous. It’s too quiet, and that silence only pisses me off more.The door slams shut behind me with a loud thud, and I don’t stop moving until I’m standing dead center, my boots scraping against the wooden floor. Pups stop playing, their little heads snapping up, and the women standing nearby freeze in place. I scan the room, my eyes sharp and cold, locking on every single one of them as I step inside.“Which one of you did it?” My voice cuts through t
The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting warm light across the table where Milanya is bundled in her bassinet. I stare at my cup of tea, my stomach too knotted to eat anything. The quiet of the cabin is heavy—too heavy—and the ache in my chest from last night still hasn’t eased.I can still hear Ruslan’s voice in my head, loud and furious. The look on his face, the fear in Milanya’s cries... It’s been looping in my mind all night, keeping me awake.I exhale, rubbing at my temple. It was a fight. That’s all. We were both exhausted. Stressed. He didn’t mean to lose control like that, and I didn’t mean to push him so hard. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier to shake the weight of it off.I glance at Milanya, her tiny face so peaceful in sleep, and I swallow down the guilt. At least she won’t remember any of this.The clock ticks on the wall, far too loud, and I know I can’t stay here. Sitting around this cabin all day with my thoughts circling like vultures would
The moment I step over the threshold of the packhouse, I know something’s wrong. The air feels off—too quiet, too still. The kind of quiet that makes my instincts spike, every hair on the back of my neck rising like a warning.“Katya?” I call, my voice echoing through the cabin. I don’t smell her. I don’t hear her.Nothing.I drop the bag slung over my shoulder and stalk into the living room, scanning every corner. Empty. The kitchen’s the same—pristine, untouched, like no one’s been here all day. My heart kicks into overdrive, and I shove open the door to Milanya’s room, the crib waiting silently, taunting me.Where the fuck are my family?My chest tightens. The bond, usually a hum in the back of my mind, is quiet. I reach for her through it, focusing hard, trying to feel her presence, her emotions—anything—but there’s nothing. It’s like screaming into a void.“Katya!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls as I tear through the cabin, checking every damn room again even though I
It’s been nearly a month since everything settled into something close to routine, and yet here I am, staring at the empty space on Ruslan’s side of the bed again. The sheets are cold, meaning he left hours ago. Probably before dawn. It’s been like this for weeks—him disappearing early, coming back late, exhausted, and barely saying more than a few words before collapsing into bed.I press my palm against the spot where he slept, feeling the faint traces of his warmth before sighing and rolling onto my back. The faint light of dawn creeps through the curtains, but I don’t want to get up yet. Not when the ache of frustration has been sitting in my chest for days now, growing stronger with every quiet night and every hurried morning.I know why he’s been busier lately. The solstice is approaching, and everyone in the pack has been on edge. It’s a time of heightened energy, of potential attacks, of old traditions that make the pack restless and wary. But knowing why doesn’t make it an
I stand in front of the mirror, fussing with the sleeves of my dress, trying to ignore the nerves that coil tighter and tighter in my stomach. It’s a soft blue—Ruslan’s suggestion, because he said it matched my eyes—but the color doesn’t do much to calm me. My reflection stares back at me, pale and anxious, but all I can think about is Milanya.Today is her blessing. Today she’ll be presented to the pack, and everyone will see her for the first time. Everyone.A soft noise from the crib pulls my attention. I turn and see her lying there, her tiny fists curling up near her face as she sleeps. My chest tightens. She’s so small, so perfect, and the thought of anyone looking at her the wrong way—of anyone even getting too close—makes my blood boil.She’s mine.The bond hums softly between Ruslan and me, like it always does when I feel something this strongly. I sense him before I hear him, his steady footsteps approaching.“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor pacing like that,” Rusl
The hallway is quiet as I step out of the room, leaving Katya and our daughter asleep. The soft sounds of their breathing trail after me, steadying the chaos in my chest as I close the door behind me. For a moment, I lean back against the wood, exhaling heavily. They’re safe. They’re mine. But the weight of everything still presses down like a goddamn anvil.I head toward Anatoly’s office, my feet carrying me on autopilot. The packhouse is mostly silent at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes after a storm. My hand raps against the heavy door before I step in without waiting for an answer. Anatoly’s sitting behind his desk, a bottle of whiskey already out and two glasses waiting. Typical. He looks up and grins.“Took you long enough,” he says, getting to his feet. His arms are open as he steps around the desk, and before I can dodge, he pulls me into a quick, firm hug. “Congratulations, old friend.”I grunt, patting his back awkwardly. “Yeah, thanks. Don’t make this weird.”“
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the soft murmur of Ruslan’s voice. It’s low, gentle, and so unlike the rough tone he usually uses. My body aches, but the warmth of his presence pulls me out of the fog, and I turn my head toward the sound.He’s sitting in the chair by the window, cradling our daughter in his arms. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over him, making the scene almost surreal. He’s shirtless, his broad shoulders relaxed as he whispers something in Russian, his voice soothing and melodic. The sight of him—the fierce Rogue Alpha who has done nothing but fight his whole life—holding our tiny daughter with such tenderness, takes my breath away.I watch as he brushes a thumb over her cheek, his expression soft and filled with something I can only describe as pure love. It’s a look I’ve never seen on his face before, and it makes my chest tighten.“You’re going to be strong,” he murmurs, his deep voice rumbling. “Stronger than I ever wa