LOGIN
Mikhail
I stand at the edge of the forest, the scent of pine and earth filling my senses. My blindness sharpens my other senses, making the world around me more vivid in ways most can't comprehend.
Being blind hasn't made me weak. In fact, it's made me stronger, more ruthless. A cruel smirk appears on my face when I recall what happened to those who considered me weak and challenged me. I can still feel the warmth of their blood on my skin as I tore them limb from limb with my bare hands. Those bastards weren't even worthy of fighting against my wolf; even in my human form, they were no match for my strength.
I haven't earned the title of Cruel Blind Alpha for nothing. Killing is my second nature. As the Alpha of the strongest pack in the northern territory, my pack and I are known for being ruthless and fierce.
My father might not have been a loving father, but he was a great mentor. He taught me never to let anyone consider my sightlessness as a weakness.
His methods were harsh, almost cruel, but they prepared me to face this world. He drilled into me the importance of strength and the necessity of being feared and respected.
My mother never liked the way he trained me, but she never said anything because she knew he was doing it for my benefit. She was the only softness in my life, the one who offered comfort after my father's brutal lessons. Her love was a quiet, constant presence, a warmth I rarely allowed myself to acknowledge. But she knew, as I did, that without my father's harsh training, no one would consider me worthy of being Alpha. Without it, I would always be seen as a weak and pathetic excuse for a leader.
My parents died in a rogue attack when I was barely an adult. But I didn't let their deaths go unavenged. I hunted down every last rogue involved and made sure none of them lived to tell the tale.
Clenching my jaws, I shake my head as my wolf howls inside me, being as restless as ever.
Raising my face towards the sky, my useless eyes notice slight brightness, indicating that the moon is shining brightly, and what I am feeling is the effect of the full moon.
I know my pack and my territory with the back of my hand. I don't need eyes to navigate through it.
Returning to the pack house, I directly made my way towards the Alpha quarter.
My eyes make out the blurred outline of the person standing at the door waiting for me as I have ordered.
"Layla." My voice comes out stoic as I acknowledge her.
"Alpha." She purrs in response as she comes and stands directly in front of me.
Extending my hand, I hold her neck and then drag it down towards the middle of her chest and then move my hand lower.
I nod my head in approval as she stands naked, ready to take care of my and my wolf's needs.
"My room, now!" I order and don't wait for her to follow as I make my way towards my room.
As soon as I hear her entering the door and closing the door behind, I push her front against the wall.
"Hands on the wall." I order while removing my clothes, "Don't move." Grabbing her hips harshly, I force her to stand still.
"Take whatever you want from me..." Turning her head slightly, she smiles at me. "Don't hold back. You know I can take it."
A growl ripples through me when I partially shift into my wolf while the room echoes with her painful screams.
June I sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers moving absentmindedly over the fabric of my shirt. The room is quiet, almost too quiet, and my backpack rests beside me, already packed with the few clothes and things I own. Everything is ready. Just in case. If I have to leave tonight, I do not want to waste time gathering pieces of a life that has never really been rooted anywhere. It is easier this way. Quick. Clean. I glance at the bag for a second, then look away. My thoughts drift beyond these walls, to the life waiting outside. It will be the same as it always has been. Moving from place to place. Figuring things out as I go. Nothing permanent. Nothing that asks me to stay. It does not scare me. It never has. But then another thought slips in, softer this time. Elise. I have not checked on her in days. A small frown pulls at my brows as I think about it. I should go see her. That will be the first thing I do. After that… I will decide where to go next. I pause, my finger
June The half of the day passes like it always does, measured in drills, instructions, and the constant awareness that today is not like other days. There is something heavier sitting under everything. A tension that no one says out loud but everyone feels anyway. By the end of today, some recruits will be sent back. No second chances. No long explanations. Just gone. I can see it in the way people move. The way they talk a little less. The way they keep checking the instructors’ faces like answers might appear there if they stare long enough. Misha is one of them. She tries to act like she does not care about anything, like training is just something she is tolerating rather than something she is fighting for. But I see the difference in her today. The way her shoulders stay a little too tight. The way her eyes flick toward the instructors more often than usual. It is not fear exactly. It is pressure. Kylie, of course, notices it too. Kylie always notices everything in the wo
JuneA normal person, when they find out something like this, would react differently.I know that.If someone told them their family existed… that they had people out there who belonged to them… and then in the same breath told them those people were gone, taken in something violent, something final… they would feel something. Grief. Anger. Pain. Something sharp enough to shake them.But I don’t.It settles in my head like a fact. Something I now know. Something I can place somewhere and move past. It does not pull at me. It does not twist anything inside me. It just exists, quiet and unmoving.Maybe that makes me strange.Maybe it doesn’t.This is how I have always been.You don’t miss what you never had. You don’t mourn something that was never part of your life. There is no memory to hold onto, no face to picture, no voice to remember. Just an idea of people who were supposed to matter. But I don't even had an idea about them.And yet… I understand what Caleb was trying to tell me
Caleb Once I am sure I will not run into any trainees still wandering around, I make my way toward June’s dorm. The campus is quiet now, the kind of quiet that only comes after curfew, when everyone knows better than to be out unless they have a reason. I stop in front of her door and knock lightly. For a second, there is nothing. Then I hear movement inside. A soft shuffle, like she is getting up from bed. A moment later, the door opens. She stands there, leaning against the frame, her hair messy in that way that makes it obvious she was lying down not long ago. It falls around her face without care, and for a second, I forget why I am here. “What?” she asks, like she did not just open the door looking like that. “Ain’t you happy to see your boyfriend?” I tease, watching her closely. That gets a reaction. It is small, but I catch it. The slight curl of her lips, the lift of her eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh?” she says, crossing her arms. “Now we are boyfriend and girlfriend?” My
Caleb Jake’s place is quiet in a way that feels weird now because the twins are always creating havoc around here. But tonight they are at Anastasia’s parents’ place for a sleepover. I lean back against the couch, one arm resting along the back, as Jake tries to resolve a fight between the twins about whom he loves the most. Astrid and Kane called him because somehow they started fighting over him, and each of them is convinced that Jake loves them more. Lucas and I exchange a look, a smile forming on both our faces as we watch our brother struggle through this. Jake has the phone pressed to his ear, his expression caught somewhere between serious Alpha and completely helpless father. “No, I don’t love Astrid more,” he says, his tone firm but patient. Then he pauses, listening, and his brows pull together. “And I don’t love Kane more either.” From the other side, their tiny voices come through loud enough that even I can hear the chaos. It is a mix of half words, half baby sounds
Caleb The instinct hits hard the moment she kisses me back, my wolf surging forward with a force that nearly snaps whatever control I have left. It is not gentle. It is not patient. It is possessive in a way that runs deeper than thought, deeper than reason. Mine. The word echoes through me, sharp and unrelenting, and for a second, it is all I can hear. My hands tighten on her before I force them to loosen, my body pulling back just enough to create space, even though every part of me wants the opposite. I take a breath, slow and controlled, trying to push my wolf back, trying to remind myself where we are. Not here. Not like this. I look at her, at the way she stands there, unaware of the storm she just set off inside me, and something twists in my chest. Because she doesn’t know. That is the hardest part. Seeing her out there, earlier, laughing with Misha, standing among the others like she is just another recruit, unclaimed, untouched by what she actually is to me… it dri
AuroraThe sight becomes familiar the moment the car slows.I recognize the open stretch before my mind fully catches up. The last time I was here, everything shifted. I learned that my father loves me in the quiet, clumsy way men like him do. I learned the truth about my mother, not the polished v
AuroraI have been at this for hours.I know because the light has changed. It starts soft, gentle, brushing my skin like it is only passing through. Now it presses down, heavy and bright, sitting on my shoulders like it plans to stay. The morning slips into afternoon without asking me, and the sun
LucasAurora walks toward us before I can get my thoughts in order. I notice the way her steps shorten when she is serious, like she is conserving something. She stops in front of Ryan, tilting her head just slightly, eyes sharp but not accusing.“Your mother?” she asks. “But why?”Ryan swallows. I
LucasThe pull reaches me before I consciously name it.It settles deep in my chest, quiet but unyielding, like a hand closing around my ribs and turning me in a specific direction. My wolf stirs at the sensation, not with strength, not with hunger, but with recognition. He is still weak, still rec







