The tension in the dining hall was suffocating. Silence stretched, thick with shock and unspoken words. Cynthia’s face was frozen in disbelief, her lips parting as if to argue, but no sound came out.The entire pack had turned their attention to Dalton, waiting for his reaction. But he didn’t even spare Cynthia a glance.His golden eyes locked onto mine.Dalton exhaled sharply, the sound slicing through the tension. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he pushed back his chair and stood. The scrape of wood against stone echoed in the vast hall.I braced myself, expecting his rejection. This was a public moment—there was no way he would choose me over Cynthia, over tradition.But then he spoke."I should have done this a long time ago."Cynthia sucked in a breath, her composure cracking. She reached for him in desperation, her fingers curling around his wrist. “Dalton, don’t—”He turned on her, his voice laced with finality. “Enough, Cynthia.”The authority in his tone sent a ripple
Being the daughter of an alpha isn’t some glamorous, fairy-tale life. It’s hell. Or at least it is for me. I’m Olivia Archer, the only child of Alpha Drake Archer of the Nightfall Pack. Sounds impressive, right? Like I should be the spoiled princess of the pack, adored and respected by everyone. But reality doesn’t care about what should be. My father doesn’t see me as his legacy or his daughter. To him, I’m nothing but a mistake—a problem he can’t wait to forget. My mom was different. She was my safe place, my light in the suffocating darkness of my father’s cold indifference. She used to tell me that I was her world, that I’d grow up to be someone incredible despite everything. She loved me with her whole heart, even though I could see the pain in her eyes every time my father ignored her. She wasn’t his fated mate, you see. She was his chosen mate, who stood by him when his fated mate rejected him. That should have meant something. It should have been enough. But it wasn’t. T
Being me means surviving one day at a time, hoping today isn’t the one that breaks me. The morning sun filtered through the trees, golden light dappling the forest floor as I stood before Luna Celeste. Her sharp eyes pinned me in place, her smile a thing of venom wrapped in silk. "In two days, we’ll have guests. Important ones," she said, her tone dripping with a menace she didn’t bother to hide. "Make sure the packhouse is spotless. Not a speck of dust, Olivia. You know the consequences." I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking. "Yes, Luna." Her lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction oozing from her perfect features. Without another word, she turned and jogged into the woods, her athletic form disappearing among the towering trees. Only when I was sure she was gone did I let out the breath I’d been holding, my chest heaving as I fought to calm the frantic rhythm of my heart. For now, I’d dodged her threats, but the weight of her words pressed heavy on my shoulders. Coll
The morning light sliced through the towering windows of my study, casting fractured reflections across the polished floor. I stood at the edge of the room, one hand gripping the cold sill, my eyes trained on the sprawling grounds outside. The sight of it—a kingdom built from blood, sweat, and unwavering dominance—should have brought satisfaction. Today, it didn’t. Behind me, the soft shuffle of footsteps broke the silence. I didn’t have to turn to know it was Drusilla. Her presence was like the faint brush of wind: gentle, yet impossible to ignore. “What do you see?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but the impatience was real. She hesitated, as she always did. "It doesn’t work like that, my king,” she replied, her words slow and deliberate. “Make it work,” I snapped, turning just enough to catch her eyes—pale, stormy gray that seemed to pierce through me. Drusilla sighed, stepping closer until she stood beside me. She peered out the window, though I doubted she s
It started like any other day—until the dean’s announcement turned it on its head. Lessons were canceled early, and while most students celebrated their unexpected freedom, I trudged toward the gates, feeling the weight of dread settle over me. A part of me wanted to savor the towering trees and vibrant flowers lining the academy grounds—normally my solace from the suffocating confines of the packhouse—but even their beauty felt mocking today, carefree and untethered to the worries plaguing me. “Catch you tomorrow, Zenny!” Cole called out with a wave, his boyish grin a little too bright. I forced a smile, lifting my hand in a half-hearted farewell. "Yeah, see you." As soon as he was out of sight, my mask slipped. My pace slowed, and I sighed. The idea of going home hours earlier than usual wasn’t a relief; it was a punishment. Five extra hours at the packhouse meant five extra hours avoiding Sid. My stepbrother never needed a reason to torment me, and if he caught me before dinn
The sting of Sid’s words still lingered in my chest as I crouched behind the shrubs outside the packhouse, my heart thudding like a drum. My father’s face filled my mind—a man I’d once idolized, now etched with disdain. My nails dug into the dirt, grounding me against the betrayal unfolding just feet away. I should have burst into the room, exposed Sid for the liar he was. But when I imagined my father’s reaction, the fury in his eyes, I froze. Would he even believe me? The answer came too soon. “She’s nothing but a disgrace,” Celeste’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade. “A shameless little brat who has no honor or decency.” For a fleeting moment, I held onto hope that my father—my Alpha—would defend me. But his reply shattered it. “To think my blood runs in her veins…” His words dripped with loathing. “I cannot believe I birthed something so foul and petty. I should never have chosen a mate. I should’ve waited for you, Celeste. I feel nothing but shame.” My bre
The memory hit me with the force of a freight train, dragging me back into that night—so sharp and vivid it could have been happening all over again.---I was on my knees, the biting cold of the stone floor seeping into my skin, but I didn’t feel it. My body was numb, my mind fractured, and my soul weighed down by a crushing despair I couldn’t escape. The air around me was thick, saturated with the chill of something unnatural, as if the very atmosphere itself rejected the warmth of life. Above, the blood-red moon loomed, casting grotesque shadows across the barren landscape, the light twisted and wrong, as though the heavens themselves had turned their gaze away from me.And before me stood her. The woman in the hood. Her presence rippled through the air like a force of nature, suffocating and commanding. In her hand, she gripped a staff carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. It pulsed with an ominous rhythm, a heartbeat that felt like it was in time with my
I woke to the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic, every inch of my body aching as if I’d been crushed, broken apart, and pieced back together with clumsy hands. The first thing I registered was the dull throb in my head, a persistent pounding that made it impossible to think clearly. My arms and torso were wrapped in layers of bandages, and every small shift sent shards of pain rippling through me. It felt like my body wasn’t mine anymore, just a husk weighed down by exhaustion.The room came into focus slowly, dim and foreign. The white walls were bare except for the glow of monitors that beeped in a steady, rhythmic cadence, like a metronome marking time. A hospital. Great. I’d seen enough of places like this to know nothing good ever followed.When I tried to sit up, pain shot through me like fire, and my limbs—God, my limbs—felt leaden, as if they were actively conspiring against me. Rest, they screamed, but my mind was already racing. I had to get out of here. Staying in this bed
The tension in the dining hall was suffocating. Silence stretched, thick with shock and unspoken words. Cynthia’s face was frozen in disbelief, her lips parting as if to argue, but no sound came out.The entire pack had turned their attention to Dalton, waiting for his reaction. But he didn’t even spare Cynthia a glance.His golden eyes locked onto mine.Dalton exhaled sharply, the sound slicing through the tension. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he pushed back his chair and stood. The scrape of wood against stone echoed in the vast hall.I braced myself, expecting his rejection. This was a public moment—there was no way he would choose me over Cynthia, over tradition.But then he spoke."I should have done this a long time ago."Cynthia sucked in a breath, her composure cracking. She reached for him in desperation, her fingers curling around his wrist. “Dalton, don’t—”He turned on her, his voice laced with finality. “Enough, Cynthia.”The authority in his tone sent a ripple
Cynthia’s laughter rang out like delicate chimes, blending with the soft click of her stilettos as she walked beside Dalton. She wore a flowing gown with a daring slit, exuding effortless confidence, while Dalton kept to his usual laid-back style—his maroon shirt fitted snugly against his frame, the sleeves rolled up as if he had just finished something that required his hands.Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, Cynthia reached for his arm, her fingers curling around his elbow with practiced familiarity.I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to suppress the sharp sting of jealousy creeping through my veins."I told you that would happen," she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "But you’re just too stubborn to listen."Dalton chuckled, a low, careless sound. "Can’t help it."Cynthia moved even closer, taking his hand in both of hers. "Well, at least your knuckles aren’t bloodied anymore." Her fingers lightly traced the back of his hand, a gesture that made something dark and ug
The usual sharp scent of shower gels and soaps didn’t overwhelm me this time. It was strange, but in a good way. The absence of that sharp sting to my senses felt liberating as I peeled off my clothes and turned on the shower, letting the warm water cascade over my skin.Steam curled around me, wrapping me in a comforting embrace. I stood there for a moment, letting the heat sink into my muscles, soothing the exhaustion clinging to my bones. It felt indulgent—taking my time, not rushing through, simply allowing myself to be.Reaching for the bottle of shower gel, I studied it for a second before flipping the cap open and inhaling the fragrance. Strong, floral, and fresh. Would Thunder hate this? Probably. But she hadn’t stirred, hadn’t complained. Maybe she needed the rest. Maybe I needed this too.A slow smile tugged at my lips as I squeezed the gel onto my loofah, working up a thick lather. The scent lingered as I ran the sponge across my skin, scrubbing away the fatigue, the tensio
The night air was thick with the lingering scent of burnt herbs and melted wax. I stood still, watching Drusilla as she busied herself gathering the remnants of her ritual—half-melted candles, scattered herbs, and delicate threads of incense curling into the night. Earlier, she had been a bundle of nerves, her hands trembling as she worked, but now she moved with a quiet confidence. A soft hum left her lips as she tucked away the last of her tools, her posture lighter, almost relieved.Dalton flexed his fingers, his gaze locked onto his hand where I had made the incision. The cut had sealed without a trace, as if it had never been there. Even the wisp that had appeared during the ritual had faded into nothingness.I glanced down at my own wrist. No mark. No sign that anything had changed.Dalton broke the silence. “Are you sure it worked?” His voice was flat, but there was an edge of skepticism beneath it as he rolled his sleeves back down.Drusilla nodded, exhaling. “The wisp showed
The air felt heavier than before, thick with the scent of damp stone and candle wax. My breath was slow and measured, but my heartbeat was anything but calm.Dalton stood opposite me, his golden eyes fixed on mine, unwavering and unreadable. The weight of his gaze pressed down on me, as if he were silently asking me if I truly understood what we were about to do. I wasn’t sure if I did.Drusilla moved with practiced ease, setting out her ritual tools with careful precision. She knelt near the base of the stone statue, her hands deftly pulling out an aged, leather-bound book from her bag. She flipped through its brittle, yellowed pages, muttering under her breath.“Okay,” she finally spoke, glancing up at us. “Both of you, stand right here.” She pointed at a spot directly in front of the statue.I swallowed and stepped forward, the chill of the underground chamber seeping into my skin. Dalton let out a quiet sigh but followed suit, his movements slow, deliberate.Drusilla’s fingers tra
My gaze lingered on Dalton for a moment too long before Drusilla suddenly latched onto my wrist, her grip firm and urgent.“Come on,” she huffed, practically dragging me away.I stumbled slightly, trying to keep up. “Where are we going?”Drusilla didn’t even look back. She snatched a set of car keys from the office table and shot me a pointed look. “Do you think we’re performing the ritual in an office? Seriously?”Before I could respond, she flicked my forehead—hard enough to make me wince. “Ow,” I muttered, rubbing the sore spot.“Stop whining and walk faster.” She pulled me down the stairs with surprising strength, leading me straight to the garage.With a press of a button, the heavy metal door rumbled open, revealing a row of sleek, luxurious cars, each one polished to perfection under the fluorescent lights.Drusilla turned to me with an exaggerated flourish. “Well? Feeling fancy today?”I glanced at the cars, their glossy exteriors reflecting the dim garage lighting. I wasn’t e
Drusilla turned sharply, her usually composed expression slipping as frustration bled into her tone.“Do you not understand? She’s our only chance! You lost control once—just once—and look at the damage you caused.”Dalton’s jaw tightened. His response was immediate, sharp. “Exactly. I am the problem. I should be the one taking the risks. Not her. Not anyone else.”The room felt like a battlefield, their voices clashing as they circled the same argument. No matter how fiercely Drusilla tried to make him see reason, Dalton rejected every word.And I—silent, watching—stood between them, feeling torn. Drusilla’s concern for Dalton was clear, but what surprised me was that he cared about me. He wasn’t selfish enough to let me risk myself just because his life was hanging in the balance. That meant something.Drusilla exhaled sharply, forcing patience. “You don’t understand, Cal. The Rogue King’s influence is growing stronger. Yesterday, it was just the servants and maids who saw your outb
I hated the way Dalton always had such firm control over himself. I hated how, even in the heat of the moment, when his lips were on mine and his hands traced fire along my skin, he could pull away like it was nothing.I despised the way hunger burned in his gaze only to vanish in an instant, replaced by something calmer—something controlled. How could he rein himself in so effortlessly while I was barely holding myself together?If it were me, I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else except the way his lips molded against mine, the way his hands claimed me, the way his presence ignited something deep within me.But Dalton?He stepped away with infuriating ease, as if what had just happened between us was nothing. His movements were deliberate, composed—grabbing a towel as if he needed to busy his hands with something mundane rather than acknowledge what had just transpired.I exhaled, steadying my breath, trying to do the same. I straightened my clothes, ran my fingers
The hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. A raw, insatiable need burned in his eyes, and I knew—I felt—that I was the only one who could satisfy it.And I was ready.The moment his lips crashed against mine, it was like a spark igniting a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. His kiss wasn’t soft or careful—it was fierce, unrelenting, like he was staking his claim on me. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body as heat surged through me, making my skin tingle and my breath hitch.I melted into him, my body thrumming with electricity, every nerve alive and aching for more. Only he could do this to me. Only Dalton could awaken this fire inside me, a fire that had been smoldering, waiting for him to ignite it.His hands traced the curve of my back, branding me with his touch. His lips moved with a desperate urgency, parting mine, his tongue sweeping inside, tangling with mine in a battle of dominance. A sharp gasp left me as he nipped at my bottom lip, the