The Chains of BloodVictoria had hardly time to catch her breath before the next wolf attacked her.Her body responded with instinct, ducking under a swipe intended to rip her open, then spinning fast, bringing her elbow up into his ribs. The wolf stumbled, snarling, but Kenzo was there before it could retake its feet.He didn’t merely fight — he decimated.With one hand, he seized the throat of the attacking wolf and lifted the beast right off the ground. The wolf choked, limbs thrashing uselessly with Kenzo’s fingers tightening, claws sinking into skin. “That was a big mistake,” Kenzo muttered, then smashed the wolf’s head onto the sidewalk. The stomach-churning crack of bone echoed in the alley.Victoria had never witnessed anyone fight like him — fast, brutal, efficient. He didn’t just overpower. He outmatched.And yet, there were too many.Out of the corner of her eye, her family’s enforcers stepped in closer. Wolves were lunging, snarling, snapping, and while Kenzo, Caleb and V
The Cost of a MateKenzo’s fight—Victoria had witnessed She had watched him snap bones with a single blow, run the blade through targets like they were made of paper, move with a merciless efficiency that could only come of a blood-soaked past, but this, this was beyond that. He wasn’t just battling; he was devouring. His aura was inky, suffocating, wrapping around him like another layer of skin, his claws weren’t merely weapons—they were executioners, his movements weren’t merely brutal—they were definitive. And Jason, Jason was going to die.Kenzo’s grip tightened around Jason’s throat, his claws pressing in just enough to puncture skin, his voice — guttural, inhuman, monstrous — rumbled through the air as he spoke, “You took her from me.” Jason’s face was getting red, his hands clawing feebly at Kenzo’s wrist, his mouth was opening, gasping, but no sound came out, his eyes bulged, wide-open, terrified.Victoria knew she had to let him suffer, knew she had to let Jason feel the weig
Bound by BloodVictoria awoke to darkness. The sort that closed around her from all sides, heavy and smothering, the sort that wound around her arms and legs like shackles, heavy and unyielding. Her head pounded, a steady, wrenching beat at the back of her skull, and for an instant, she couldn’t recall what had happened, where she was, why her body felt so much like it had been ripped apart and reassembled badly. Then it hit her.Kenzo.The bond.Her mother.Her dazed head snapped back as her heart raced, a tidal wave of the happenings earlier flooding over her. They had taken her. They had taken Kenzo. They had—they had attempted to break the mate bond. Just the thought was a white-hot poker of agony that shot through her chest, acute, soul-wrenching, and she clutched her heart, fingers trembling. Was it broken? Was it severed? She delved deep within herself, seeking out that familiar heat, that chain that had been connected to her from the moment Kenzo branded her to be his, but it
Blood-bound, Fate-brokenVictoria had always known that her family was cruel. She’d always known her mother to be a calculating woman, one who held power like a knife, sharp and exacting, one who never issued threats — only promises. But standing in that frigid, stifling dungeon, looking at Kenzo shackled against the wall, blood crusted on his skin, his eyes boring into hers with what appeared to be combination rage and resignation, she understood something deeper, something worse.Her mother never meant for her to survive this.“Reject him,” Lady Dana said again, voice even, smooth, unyielding, as though she were asking something as mundane as laying down a broken piece of jewelry, as though she weren’t commanding her own daughter to tear her soul in two.Or we kill him.The words stuck in Victoria’s head, wrapped around her throat like a noose, each syllable tightening, closing off air, closing off thought.Reject him.Reject the one thing she’d ever chosen for herself.Those words
The War That Was Never PromisedVictoria had never bought the idea of fate, never bought the concept of the universe having some grand design, some master plan so intricately plotted that every step, that every breath, that every moment had already been penned in the stars well before she had drawn her first breath, because if fate was a thing that existed.If twist of destiny and the movement of the heavens determined the course of a life, then fate had damned her the moment she was born, had decided that she would be weak, unwanted, the expendable daughter in a family that never planned for her to ascend. Yet now, here, with blood pooling in the stone at her feet, Kenzo beside her, her mother looking on with that same inscrutable smirk, and the High Council’s enforcers pouring through the doors with a singular goal— to kill the rogue alpha that had taken something that wasn’t his — Victoria didn’t know whether she believed in fate or not, but that had become irrelevant, because it
Rage of the ForsakenVictoria had never been a fighter. She’d never been the strongest, the fastest, the kind of wolf whose mere presence struck terror into the hearts of others. She had been conditioned all her life to believe she was lesser — less powerful, less important, less worthy. But none of that mattered now, because she wasn’t seeking her family’s approval, she wasn’t fighting for status or recognition or something as hollow as the things that they had waved in front of her like scraps to keep her docile. She was fighting for Kenzo.The moment she saw the steel go in where it shouldn’t, saw the streak of silver buried deep in the meat of his ribs, saw his breath stutter and not stop, something inside of her broke that would never be able to be set right.Katarina had always wanted to watch her crumble, had spent years chiseling away at each piece of her, wear at her that made her so fragile, more like clay or air than flesh and blood, but she never once entertained the thoug
A Throne of AshesVictoria had spent her whole life watching powerful men walk through rooms as though they were gods among mortals, had spent years committing to memory the different ways alphas physically moved through space, how they wielded their power like a weapon even sharper than any knife. But there had never been — not once, not ever — anything like this, not the insistent weight, the vexation, the suffocation, the finality of Luther Vaughn’s presence. There was no need to bare his fangs, no need to raise his voice, no need to strike a single blow to remind them what he was. His power didn’t scream; it whispered, and somehow it was worse because whispers were insidious, they crept in, they settled, and they consumed everything in their path.”Kenzo remained frozen, unreadable, taut with whatever it was simmering just beneath the surface, but it wasn’t fear, it wasn’t hesitation, it was something else. Victoria could sense it coming off him in waves, the simmering anger in hi
The Death of a KingVictoria had never feared pain, had spent years surviving it in ways that had made her numb to all but survival, but nothing had prepared her for this, for the sight of Kenzo on the ground, bleeding out, beneath her, for the sound of ragged, uneven breaths escaping him, for the way his body shook with the effort to keep breathing. Death, she had always imagined, was something quick, something instant, something that snatched life away with a blink, but this — this was worse. This was slow, excruciating, purposeful. This was a punishment.Luther Vaughn hadn’t merely struck him down. He had put on a show over this.She pressed her shivering hands to his chest as though she could hold him together, as if her touch only would wipe the past away. But, so much blood, too much blood, soaking down into the stone beneath him, painting her hands red, turning his breath shallow and fragile. His heart was still beating, but just; and every second that went by felt like grains
All That Was LostThe silence hung between them, heavy with things said and unsaid, and for the first time since Victoria had fallen into his life, Kenzo could feel the burden of his past bearing down on his shoulders. Outside, the night was calm, but inside the small apartment, nerves were running high. Victoria perched on the bed, the fabric of his old shirt in her hands, her eyes fastened to him as if she were attempting to crack a code no one but herself could decipher.“If you keep looking at me like that,” Kenzo said, running a hand down his face as he pushed his back against the wall. “Like you think I’m just gonna spill my guts.”Victoria raised an eyebrow, cocking her head to one side as she stared at him. “Maybe because I do,” she said, her voice low but steady. “Kenzo, you carry something heavy. Something that prevents you from opening up to anybody. I want to know what it is."A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “And why should I tell you if I don’t want to? What if it is bet
The Weight of a ChoiceKenzo sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands, breath uneven, as Victoria stirred, her warmth enveloping him in the comfort he'd denied himself for too long. But comfort was a deadly thing.” It made a man weak. It caused him to forget that the world outside this room would not stand still for the fire raging between them. And that fire — it was raging, devouring, drawing them toward a future neither of them completely knew.Victoria moved, resting on one elbow as her green eyes examined him, cutting and flared with something dangerously close to concern. “Kenzo, what’s wrong?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep, but it carried a gravitas that told him she already knew.He blew out, rubbing his palms, feeling the callouses, the roughness of a man too many decades swinging. “What do you do when you wake up to realize that you’re at a crossroads? But no matter how you turn, you’re walking into storm?”Her fingers made slow and soft circles on his back, as if she wer
Victoria lay in the gray light of Kenzo’s small apartment, dazed with the scent of him, which had clung to her, like a second skin. She still felt the way his arms had wrapped around her, the way his breath had hitched as if he were holding back something deep and primal. It wasn’t merely desire; it was something primal, something on fire. And he was fighting himself, fighting the wolf within, and she didn’t know how much longer he could restrain it.Kenzo sat at the window, moonbeams slanting across his face. His jaw tightened, eyes flashing gold in the dark. He hadn’t said a lot since they had lain down, but Victoria could feel the weight of his thoughts against the quiet. She rolled over onto her side and looked at him. “You can’t sleep much, can you?”Kenzo let out a short laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not when my head won’t stop talking.”Victoria looked him over, the way his muscles tightened even in stillness. “You’re thinking about something. Or someone.”Kenzo didn’
The stillness in the darkened room hung over them, loaded with thoughts that neither of them would articulate, the kind that scratched at the base of the brain but would never break the surface. Kenzo lay awake, his arms stretched wide around Victoria’s sleeping body, his breathing steady, his mind far from it. His wolf, starved and erratic, prowled inside of him, demanding, pushing, aching for more. The night had been long, longer than he’d ever thought it would be, but somehow, despite everything — despite the recklessness, despite how insane their union was — he couldn’t feel regret about a single moment of it.His hand brushed against her shoulder, her skin warm and soft beneath his calloused fingers, the shallow rise and fall of his broad chest keeping in time with her light breath as she dozed next to him. And how easily had she surrendered to sleep, as if there had been no doubt, no hesitation, as if she belonged there, in his arms, unquestioningly. And perhaps that was wha
Kenzo didn't fall asleep. Sitting on the edge of his bed, his body tight, his brain keeps wandering some ways he doesn't want to think about. Over to the other side of the room, curled up in a ball, Victoria breathed steadily. But he knew she never slept now. He could sense it in the way she held herself and the fists she made of her hands as she lay there motionless. He wanted to reach out to her, shake her, demand that she tell him how she could still sit there pretending everything was all right when it wasn't. Nothing was now.Finally he couldn't bear it any longer. "How much more are you going to pretend?"His voice was rough, edged like a blade. What did he care?Victoria rolled over, but didn't look at him. "Pretend about?"Kenzo let out a bitter laugh. "That everything's going to be fine. And to a monster you mean you didn't just turn. All that he wanted-look at you handing himself and everything over, clinking it on a silver platter."She let out her breath in a slow, even str
The Border Between Love and WarKenzo didn’t return to the apartment right away. He couldn’t. The blood in his veins was buzzing with rage, his wolf pacing, but there was no stimulus to let all that rage out. He walked the shadowy streets, past the dank alleys----you could smell the damp, crumbling concrete--, and the sputtering neon signs barely illuminating the way. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, his hands itching to hit something, anything, but there was nothing he could hit.Since that battle had been lost the instant Victoria cut that deal.You turn the corner, you go into an old bar —smelling like cigarettes and sweat and fucking regret. He squeezed inside, shoulders tight, the warmth of too many bodies crowding around him, the low hum of conversation by the floor shaking the air. A few gazes lifted to him, realizing who he was, still no one approached. Good. He wasn’t very sociable at this time.Kenzo marched straight to the counter and banged a hand down. “Whiskey. N
The Price of TreacheryTHE RIDE BACK WAS CHOKING. No one spoke. No one could. The shadow of Victoria’s deal with Damon loomed like a boulder in the back seat, crowding the space between them so that every breath felt like a struggle. Kenzo’s knuckles were white from gripping the wheel, his jaw set tight and hard, a wolf snarl sitting just under his skin. Caleb, the one most likely to fill silence with offhand comments, gazed out the window with his reading smirk absent, his fingers drumming an uneasy tattoo against his thigh. And Victoria — Victoria could feel the weight of her choice settling into her bones like a slow, creeping poison.She had struck a deal with the most dangerous man in the city.She had offered herself.And now she had to live with it.At last Kenzo spoke, his voice precise and low, slicing through the quiet like a knife. “What the hell was that?”Victoria raised her chin, determined not to flinch. “A negotiation.”Kenzo laughed, but not in a way that was funny, o
Bargaining with the DevilThe drive to the Blackfangs’ territory was silent, thick with tension and the unspoken weight of what they were about to do. Victoria sat in the backseat, her arms crossed tightly, her mind warring with itself. She didn’t trust them. She didn’t want to trust them. But if there was one thing she had learned in the past few days, it was that survival required impossible choices.Kenzo drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting against the gear shift, his gaze steady on the road ahead. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror, watching her, sensing her unease, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He already knew this meeting was the last thing she wanted.Caleb, on the other hand, was completely at ease, lounging in the passenger seat like they weren’t about to walk into the lion’s den. “You’re too quiet, Vic. You should be excited. We’re about to make history.”Victoria shot him a glare. “If by ‘history’ you mean getting ou
THE POINT OF NO RETURNVictoria sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at the dim light coming through the cracked blinds, fingers clenched around the thin blanket draped across her lap. The sleep had never arrived, not really, not when her mind wouldn’t quiet, not when the weight of what was coming settled onto her chest with the steadiness of an iron weight. She had always known her family’s world was built on corruption, on power plays and alliances that cared little for love, but the betrayal, the sheer depth of it, still stung more than she cared to confess. Her mate—ex-mate—and her own sister. It was no longer just about the humiliation. It was about the reality that they expected her to do that. To bow. To submit.But she was no longer that girl.A low sound rolled around the room, and she glanced at the couch where Kenzo sat, arms crossed, head craned back, eyes closed, though he was not asleep. He hadn’t slept either. She could sense it by the tautness of his shoulders, the strai