The clinic smells of antiseptic and clean linens, the air thick with the sterile atmosphere that’s meant to put people at ease. But I’m far from calm. I sit on the examination table, my fingers gripping the edge of the padded surface, trying to keep my thoughts in check. The healer, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, finishes her check-up, her hands gentle as she measures and prods.“You’re healthy, Luna,” she says softly, smiling in an attempt to reassure me. “The baby’s fine.”Those words should be a relief, but they do little to ease the knot of tension that’s been coiled tight in my chest for weeks. I can barely focus on the good news. All I can think about is the weight of everything on my shoulders.“But,” she adds, her voice growing a little more serious, “you’re under a lot of stress. It’s not good for you, or the baby. You need to take it easy, Luna. Rest when you can.”I manage a nod, though inside, I’m screaming. Take it easy? Rest? How am I supposed to do that when the e
Ruslan glares at me, his face twisted with frustration and anger. “This bond is making me weak,” he spits, his voice dripping with disgust. “It’s your fault I’m like this. You’re making me weak.”I open my mouth to respond, but the words get caught in my throat. I’m shocked, horrified, and more than a little scared. If the bond is doing this to him, what else is it capable of? If I can feel his emotions, if he can feel mine—how are we supposed to fight that?“I hate this,” he snarls, pulling against the chains again, the sound of metal grinding against stone. “I hate how this bond is controlling me, how it’s forcing me to care about your pain, about your panic. I don’t want to care, but it’s there. Every time you feel something, I feel it too now. It’s maddening.”I can feel the truth of his words in my own chest. The bond is relentless, always pulling, always pushing, making it impossible to think, impossible to fight. The harder I try to resist, the more it pushes back.“What are we
Lying on this pristine bed, I can still feel the lingering sensation of her touch on my chest. It’s like a ghost, something I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. My body is heavy with exhaustion, my muscles aching from the fight against the chains, but that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s her. It’s always her.Katya.I grit my teeth, staring up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything else, but my mind keeps circling back to her. To the way her hand pressed against my skin, to the calm that followed. That damned bond. Every time I try to resist it, every time I try to fight it, it just tightens its grip, reminding me that I’m trapped. And worse than that, it’s making me weak.The moment I felt her panic earlier, something in me snapped. I didn’t care that I was chained up like an animal. I didn’t care that she’s the one who put me here, who’s keeping me alive just to figure out how to break this cursed bond. All I cared about was finding her, calming her, making sure she was ok
The bond has a strange way of keeping me up at night. It hums under my skin, a constant reminder that no matter how much distance I try to put between myself and Ruslan, it’ll never be enough. Even now, lying in my bed, I can feel it pulling at me, tugging me in his direction.I try to ignore it, forcing myself to close my eyes and shut out the world, but it’s no use. His presence is too strong, too consuming. And tonight, something’s different. The bond is louder, more insistent, and I can feel his emotions crashing over me in waves. The anger, the frustration—those are familiar, but there’s something else now. Something darker. Hotter.I feel it, deep in my chest, a tug that’s more insistent than the usual pull of the bond. It’s not panic or anger this time. It’s something more primal, more urgent. And it’s coming from him. I can feel his desire, hot and raw, pushing through the bond, wrapping around me like a heated coil. My breath catches, and I sit up in bed, my heart pounding.
The council chamber feels colder than usual, the heavy stone walls closing in around me. I sit in the centre of the room, the long table filled with the elders who’ve governed the pack for years. Tomas sits beside me, his presence solid and reassuring, but even he can’t calm the storm brewing inside me. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of anxiety and anger, and I already know this meeting won’t end well.The council has been quiet, studying me with their sharp, calculating eyes. Finally, one of them—Elder Garin, an old man with a weathered face and more power than most—clears his throat.“Luna Katya,” he begins, his voice slow and deliberate, “how are you feeling lately?”I frown, taken aback by the question. It’s not what I expected. They didn’t call me here to talk about feelings. But I know better than to lie. I take a breath, my hands gripping the edge of the chair. “I’m... managing,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s been difficult, with everything that’s happe
The shackles bite into my wrists and ankles, the chains rattling with every forced step. They drag me out of the cell without a word, like I’m nothing more than an animal. The light outside is blinding, the first real sunlight I’ve seen in weeks.My eyes burn, and I have to squint just to see. The guards don’t slow down, don’t give me time to adjust. They shove me forward, arms locked in place, legs barely able to move in the tight restraints. I stumble, but catch myself before I hit the dirt. No one says a damn word to me.I’m not stupid. I know what this is. They’re taking me to my execution. I expected this day to come. Maybe not this soon, but I knew it was inevitable. A small part of me thought they might let me rot in the cell, but no. Katya must have found some loophole. Maybe the council pushed her harder than I expected.I breathe out, a strange sense of relief flooding through me. I’ve been waiting for this, waiting for the end. It’s better than being chained up, better than
The hot water hits my skin, and for a moment, I just stand there, letting it cascade over me, washing away the grime, blood and sweat that’s been clinging to me for God knows how long. It feels... strange. To be in a shower. To be clean again. After weeks of being chained up in that cell, it’s almost surreal. The steam rises around me, filling the small bathroom with warmth, and I can feel my muscles slowly start to relax.I lean my head back, closing my eyes, letting the water run down my face. My body aches, every part of me stiff from being confined for so long, but the heat is helping. I can feel the tension melting away, bit by bit, the tightness in my chest easing. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything close to comfort in what feels like forever.But even as I try to relax, there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I’m not really free. Not yet. I might be out of the cell, but I’m still a prisoner. The barrier around the cabin makes sure of that. No running. No esca
I wake up feeling off, my stomach churning the second I open my eyes, a wave of nausea hitting me hard. I try to ignore it, to push through the uncomfortable sensation as I roll out of bed and head to the kitchen. It’s just morning sickness. It’ll pass.The cabin is quiet, and for a moment, I relish the stillness. It’s the only thing that feels normal anymore. I grab a pan and start making breakfast, eggs sizzling as the scent of food fills the air. But as soon as the smell hits my nose, my stomach lurches violently. I barely make it to the sink before I’m bent over, heaving, my body betraying me.I hear footsteps behind me, and I know it’s him. Ruslan. I can feel his presence before he even says anything, the bond thrumming with his concern. I don’t look at him, still bent over the sink, trying to get the nausea under control.“What’s wrong with you?” His voice is rough, almost accusing, but there’s a layer of something else beneath it. Worry.I wipe my mouth with the back of my han
5 Years LaterThe crisp mountain air fills my lungs as I stand at the foot of the cabin, the old wood of the porch creaking softly beneath my weight. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth surrounds me, grounding me in the moment as my eyes follow the scene in front of me.Katya’s laugh echoes across the clearing, light and carefree, the kind of sound that still catches me off guard because of how much it softens everything inside me. She’s running, her long dark hair streaming behind her like a banner as she chases Milanya and Mikhail.Milanya shrieks with laughter, her dark curls bouncing as she sprints ahead, her silver eyes gleaming with mischief. She’s fast, so fast for her age, and every time I see her move with that wild, untamed energy, I see pieces of both Katya and me in her.Mikhail isn’t far behind, his silver hair catching the light as he dodges around his sister, trying to outmaneuver her. He’s quieter, more measured in his movements, but there’s no mistaking the spark
I can’t help but smile as I think about the pride in Ruslan’s eyes when he watched Milanya shift for the first time. He looked so overwhelmed, like he couldn’t believe he was witnessing something so incredible. I wonder if he realizes how much of himself she carries. The same raw determination, the same strength—it’s all there in her, as much a part of her as her little hands and feet.The rustling of leaves pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Ruslan emerging from the trees, his massive wolf form padding silently into the clearing. Milanya trails behind him, her tiny black paws stumbling over roots and rocks but determined to keep up.Ruslan shifts first, his towering frame replacing the wolf in a seamless movement that still leaves me breathless. He slips on his shirt and pants and crouches down to help Milanya with her own shift, his hands steady and gentle as he murmurs soft words of encouragement.When she’s back in her human form, she giggles and throws her arms ar
The sun is high in the sky, and a soft breeze carries the earthy scent of the forest, mixed with the faint sweetness of wildflowers. Peace. That’s what this is—pure, uninterrupted peace.Milanya toddles ahead, her tiny hand gripping Ruslan’s much larger one. She’s walking more steadily now, her confidence growing with every day. It’s hard to believe she was just a baby clinging to my hip not so long ago. Now, she’s this curious little explorer at fifteen months, her grey eyes wide with wonder as she glances back at me with a giggle.“She’s fast,” I say with a laugh, watching as she tries to tug Ruslan forward.“She’s got my stamina,” Ruslan replies, smirking over his shoulder. “Lucky you.”“Lucky me,” I echo, rolling my eyes but unable to hide my smile.The past year and a half have changed everything. The shadows that once clung to our lives have finally dissipated, leaving room for something brighter. I feel it in the way Ruslan carries himself now—less guarded, more at ease. He’s
The silence in Tomas’ abandoned packhouse is suffocating. It’s a shell of what it once was—empty halls, shattered windows, the faint stench of fear and blood lingering in the air. The pack he once commanded with an iron fist has scattered, no doubt fleeing the inevitable after the council finally acted. There’s no one left to stand beside him now. Just like it should be.It’s almost poetic.The council’s letter came two months ago, filled with apologies to Katya. They admitted their mistake, exiling her without understanding the full picture. They’d tried to welcome her back, promising to reinstate her as Luna with me by her side, but she refused.“I already have a home,” she’d said softly.I remember the way my chest swelled with pride, hearing her say that. It didn’t matter how much power or respect the council tried to dangle in front of her—Katya wasn’t interested. She wanted peace, a life with Milanya, and me.I walk through the halls with purpose, my claws itching to end this.
The cabin feels far too quiet without Ruslan’s presence. Milanya is napping in her crib, the soft sound of her tiny breaths the only thing breaking the silence. Normally, I’d find her peacefulness soothing, but today it feels like a cruel reminder of how fragile everything is.I sit by the window, my gaze fixed on the treeline where Ruslan disappeared hours ago. He had to leave to help fortify the border and investigate how Andrei managed to get onto pack lands in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to go, not after everything we’d been through last night, but we both knew he didn’t have a choice.His absence weighs heavily on me, and I can’t stop my thoughts from spiraling. The memory of Andrei in Milanya’s room, his scarred face twisted with obsession and desperation, keeps replaying in my mind. The way he spoke about me, about Milanya, like we were possessions he had lost and deserved to reclaim.I close my eyes, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. The bond between
Anatoly and I are standing outside my cabin, but my focus is locked on the sight of Katya and Milanya.Through the large window, I watch as the healers gently examine them, their practiced hands moving over Katya’s arm where a bruise has already started to form. Milanya sits on Katya’s lap, her little hands clutching at her mother’s shirt, her big, stormy eyes darting around the room.My chest tightens at the sight of them, the aftermath of everything that just happened sinking into my bones. They’re safe now, but the thought of how close it came—how close Andrei had gotten—makes me feel like I’m still on the battlefield.Anatoly’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Ruslan, focus. I need your report.”I tear my eyes away from them, turning to face him. His jaw is tight and his fists clenched as he watches me with concern.“I already told you what happened,” I say, my voice rough. “Andrei got into the cabin. He had Marissa helping him, and she was armed with silver bullets.”Anatoly’s
Everything happens at once, a chaotic blur of motion and sound that stretches into an eternity. One moment, Marissa’s voice is ringing in my ears, cruel and taunting, her gun aimed at me and Milanya. The next, the window shatters, glass spraying across the room like frozen rain as the Gammas burst in, their growls tearing through the air.Andrei spins toward the sound, his snarl breaking into a roar as Roman lunges at him, his claws slashing through the space between them. The fight begins in an instant—a savage clash of strength and rage—but my focus is elsewhere.Milanya.My daughter’s soft whimper pulls me back, grounding me in the chaos. She’s still in her crib, her tiny face scrunched with fear. I can’t let her stay there, exposed and vulnerable.I move without thinking, my feet propelling me forward as adrenaline takes over. My arms reach out, desperate to scoop her up and hold her close.“Don’t you fucking dare!” Marissa shrieks, lunging toward me, her gun still aimed at my ch
My heart pounds in my chest, my instincts kicking into overdrive. My wolf pushes against my skin, snarling and growling, ready to fight. I scan the cabin, my eyes darting to every corner, every shadow.“Ruslan?” Katya’s voice is soft and groggy, coming from the bedroom.I don’t answer, my focus laser-sharp on the scent that refuses to fade.“Ruslan?” she calls again, louder this time.I move toward the door, my bare feet crunching over the broken glass. Every muscle in my body is tense, my senses on high alert.“Stay in the bedroom,” I say over my shoulder, my voice low and commanding.“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice tinged with worry.“Just stay there,” I repeat, my eyes falling to Milanya’s room, and seeing it is cracked open. I walk over and push it open slowly, my hand tightening on the frame as my eyes land on him.Andrei is standing by the crib, his back to me, his hand outstretched. His fingers trace gently along Milanya’s cheek, and bile rises in my throat.“You know,”
The packhouse is alive tonight. Laughter and chatter echo through the open courtyard, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced desserts fills the air. It’s not my scene. It never has been. But here I am, standing at the edge of it all, scanning the crowd like a hawk while trying not to look like one.Everything is calm, almost unnervingly so. The pack needed this, Anatoly had argued, and watching them laugh and relax after months of tension, I can’t say he was wrong. But I can’t shake the nagging feeling that something might go wrong.“Relax, Ruslan,” Anatoly says from beside me. He’s holding a glass of whiskey, his other hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. “You’re wound so tight you’re going to snap.”I grunt, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll relax when Tomas is six feet under and Katya and Milanya are safe.”Anatoly smirks, sipping his drink. “Fair enough. But you don’t need to look like you’re about to kill someone tonight. This is for them.” He gestures to the p