Hello, dear readers! We've reached the end of Book One—thank you for coming this far with me. But the journey isn't over yet! More secrets await, more mysteries beg to be unraveled, and Lynette and Kassian will face even greater challenges. See you in Book Two!
The clock ticks relentlessly, each metallic click ricocheting off the dark walls, grating against my already frayed nerves. It’s out of sync with my heartbeat, which thumps unevenly—harder and faster than normal, but not frantic. There’s a tension in my chest, a heaviness that I can’t shake as I sit here, waiting. My supposed best friend’s office feels like a stranger’s lair, foreign and uninviting.I exhale quietly, trying to calm the jittery rhythm of my breaths, but it’s a losing battle. My gaze roams the room, dissecting every detail, scrutinizing corners that once held memories—fun, embarrassing, even painful. This space used to feel alive, like a reflection of Rowan himself. Bright. Warm. Open. Now, it feels like a mausoleum, cold and sterile, drained of the life that once coursed through it.The walls are dark, almost oppressive, their muted tones casting shadows that seem to shift with the flickering light overhead. There’s a heaviness in the air, like grief painted into every
The man who had seemed pale, almost fragile just minutes ago, now regards me with a cold, unreadable expression. His eyes, once warm and expressive, are shuttered, as if hiding secrets I’ll never be privy to. It’s as though the vulnerable Rowan I thought I saw was nothing but a trick of the light, a mirage dissolving into something harder, colder.“Lynette Gold,” he says, his tone sharp and formal, sending a pang of confusion through me.I flinch, his use of my full name landing like a slap. He shuts the door behind him with an eerie gentleness, the soft click reverberating through the room. As he strides toward me, his movements are deliberate, his gait slow and almost predatory. There’s an elegance to him, but it’s laced with an unspoken menace, as though he’s testing how close he can get without setting me off.“Yes, Lynette,” I say, my voice unsteady as I watch him closely. “Remind me, why is my last name being used here?”He doesn’t answer. Instead, he walks past me, and the faint
The cold water cascades over me, the icy droplets biting into my skin, soaking through my clothes, and chilling me to the bone. The sharp chill of the bathroom tiles against my legs seeps deeper, anchoring me in this numbing, unbearable moment. Every breath feels labored, shallow, and my sobs echo through the large, empty space, ricocheting off the sterile walls. The sound of my cries mingles with the relentless patter of the water, drowning everything else out, save for the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears—a deafening reminder of the pain that refuses to leave.I sit curled on the bathroom floor, my knees pulled tight to my chest, trying to make myself smaller as if I can shrink away from the torment clawing at my insides. One hand rests against my knees, separating my chin from pressing into them, while the other claws desperately at the floor. My fingers scrape against the tiles, futilely trying to find something solid to hold onto, something to ground me against the storm raging
The voice filters through the hallway, unmistakable, and instantly recognizable as Zalie’s. My heartbeat, still erratic, begins to slow as relief spreads through me. I ease the gun and dagger into the large pocket of my dark robe, the cold metal brushing against my fingers as I slip it away. My chest still feels tight, my breathing shallow, but at least now, I’m not on the verge of full panic.How does she know I’m back? I didn’t tell her. All the times I went looking for Rowan, I made sure I was in disguise, careful not to leave any trail. And yet, here she is.“I’m still uncertain about breaking into her house,” Lyla’s voice drifts up from the living room, her tone anxious and hesitant. I step quietly to the bannister, leaning over to get a clear view of them below.Zalie is bent forward, her face mere inches from the massive fish tank wall, her cornflower-blue eyes sparkling with curiosity and fascination. Her excitement is so palpable that it almost makes me smile despite myself. S
I stop dead in my tracks, whipping around to stare at her. My eyes drop to her stomach, and for the first time, I notice the slight bulge beneath her loose, baggy gown. She beams, rubbing her stomach with a shy smile, and the realization hits me like a brick.“Wait.” My voice is sharp, incredulous. “How did you sneak in here with ‘that’… no, wait, who the fuck got you pregnant? Jerry? Kenzie? Old Man Dicktard?”Lyla rolls her eyes, exasperated. “I’ve told you to stop calling him that! And no, it’s Clayton.” Her fingers twist a lock of her glossy black hair around her index finger, her cheeks flushing as she says his name.“And Caleb,” Ivanna chirps, her voice bright and teasing as she strides past me into my room.I stand there, frozen, staring at Lyla with a mix of bewilderment, amusement, and sheer mortification. Clayton and Caleb. The infamous twins. One a renowned fashion designer, the other the owner of an entertainment empire. Both famous for their devotion to each other—and thei
Kassian’s POV“Alpha.” The voice of my beta, Brian, cuts through the quiet like a blade, and I tense, realizing I didn’t even hear him approach. My mind has been in turmoil ever since I met Lynette—my brother's so-called best friend. My instincts had warned me she’d be trouble, but not like this. No, she’s far worse than anything I could have imagined. Her presence didn’t just stir up old memories; it awakened my wolf—the same wolf who abandoned me years ago. And as if that wasn’t enough, now I’m stuck with the reality of an unwanted mate.It’s chaos, pure and simple. I haven’t felt this lost, this conflicted, in years. And all of it comes back to her—one woman, flipping my entire world upside down.I need to get myself back together.“Brian,” I say, forcing calm into my tone, “what do you have for me?”His sigh is heavy, thick with the kind of news I’ve grown to dread. “Not good news, Alpha. Höherstehend Pack has hired vampires as reinforcements.”I inhale sharply, the familiar burn o
Lynette’s POVI stand frozen, staring up at the towering building in front of me, lost in the chaos of my own thoughts. The air around me feels colder than it should, biting through the rose gold fleece hoodie I’ve pulled tightly over my head. For minutes—maybe longer—I’ve done nothing but gaze at the sleek exterior of Rowan’s company building. My breath clouds the air, shallow and uneven, but I barely notice. I didn’t plan to come here.I woke up this morning with every intention of taking a simple walk, hoping the fresh air would help me think. But somehow, I ended up in a cab, and now here I am—standing like a fool, staring up at the embodiment of a past I can’t seem to escape.Grief churns deep in my chest, but it’s not grief alone that has me rooted to this spot. My mind is a battlefield of conflicting emotions, each more chaotic than the last. This isn’t just about Rowan. It’s about Kassian. Rowan’s twin brother. My unrequited first love.No—it’s worse than that.Some people scof
I puff out a frustrated breath for what feels like the hundredth time today, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. My legs are starting to ache, but I stay planted against the wall, staring at the polished marble floor of the lobby. The air smells faintly of floor polish and the cloying perfume of the secretary at the desk. Each breath feels heavy, like it carries the weight of my mounting frustration.Unfortunately, the secret passage Rowan once showed me wasn’t an option. I hadn’t planned on coming here at all, so I didn’t bring the keycard to get through—or anything else, for that matter. No wallet, no ID. I’d barely managed to scrounge up enough cash from the pocket of my joggers to pay the cab driver earlier, and now that’s gone too.Not only do I have no way to prove who I am, but leaving isn’t exactly an option either—not unless I’m willing to walk, which I’m not. To make things worse, I left my phone behind, so there’s no way to call Elliott or the girls for help. Even
Across the room, Kassian remains unmoving. His mind is a haze of static, his thoughts tangled in a thick web of denial. He watches them press their hands against Lynette’s lifeless form, listens to their frantic attempts to revive her, but none of it registers. She’s not dead.She’s just… sleeping.She’ll wake up soon. She has to.Something deep inside him pulses, hollow and aching. The mate bond—the once-constant hum of connection—has been severed, leaving behind nothing but a vast, unbearable emptiness. He feels it, deep in his soul, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Because if he does—if he admits, even for a second, that she’s really gone—he won’t survive it.His hands twitch at his sides, clenching and unclenching as his thoughts spiral.How do I live without her?How does he wake up every morning without hearing her voice? Who will roll their eyes at his brooding and call him dramatic? Who will compliment his cooking but vehemently love it more than anything? Who will read him li
A quiet hum drifts through the dimly lit office as Oliver methodically sorts through scattered documents, the faint scent of paper mixing with the lingering traces of Kassian’s scent. Outside, the day is still, save for the distant chirping of birds, a stark contrast to the turmoil that has haunted this place for days.He steals a glance at Kassian, sprawled across the worn leather couch, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. There’s something almost childlike about the way he sleeps—completely at ease, his face unburdened by the grief and rage that have shadowed him since Ryker’s death. Oliver can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen his cousin sleep, and never once has it been so peaceful. Before, it was always fitful, his brows drawn tight, his body tense, as if even in slumber, he fought unseen battles. But now… now he’s at rest.A warmth spreads through Oliver’s chest, satisfaction curling around his heart like a protective shield. Justice has been ser
It’s a good day to die.The thought crashes into my mind, and I immediately regret it. Worst possible time for jokes, Lynette.My breath is shallow, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a desperate prisoner trying to escape a cage. The scent of damp earth and pine needles fills my nose, and it almost feels as if I can perceive my own fear.I step back cautiously, my slippers sinking slightly into the forest floor, soft moss cushioning the impact. My eyes dart over my shoulder, scanning for any possible escape routes. Nothing. Thick trees enclose the area like silent spectators, their gnarled branches twisting above, casting jagged shadows in the fading sunlight. Even if I did run, what were the odds I’d make it?Slim. No—nonexistent.Panic grips me with icy fingers, tightening around my throat. My mind screams for a way out, some way to call for help. If only I had a mental link like Kassian did with his pack—something, anything to let him know I’m in danger. But I don’t. The best
The quiet hum of the AC fills the office, cold air whispering through the space, blending with the faint rush of wind from the open window. Somewhere in the background, the coffee machine lets out a low gurgle. The silence is heavy. Oppressive. It settles around us like a second skin, thick enough to suffocate.I want to say something. I want to fix this. But the words lodge themselves in my throat, tangled between the fear of hurting him and the desperation to pull him back before it’s too late.Then, warmth.A gentle pressure over my fidgeting hands, stopping their restless movements.I jolt slightly at the unexpected contact, my heart skipping a beat. Kassian’s hands are warm—so warm—completely engulfing mine as if he’s trying to ground himself through me.I look up at him, breath catching at the raw emotion on his face. The sadness, the exhaustion, the fear—it’s all there, painted across his features in shades of grief and torment. His amethyst eyes, dulled with sorrow, meet mine,
The hallway outside Kassian’s office is eerily quiet, the usual buzz of the pack absent. The air smells of old parchment, ink, and something heavier—like exhaustion and fading traces of stress-induced sweat. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before rapping my knuckles against the door.“Knock knock, it’s me!” I call out, my voice deliberately cheerful, a singsong lilt added for effect. A wide smile stretches across my lips, but inside, I’m anything but lighthearted.It has been over a week since Kassian defeated his father, and everything has changed. The pack. The leadership. Him.At the pack’s request, he revealed the truth—the real Rowan Draven had died long ago, and Kassian had been living in his place. Doubts lingered, of course. Murmurs of suspicion slithered through the media, but the CCTV footage he once hid sealed the truth. Footage proving he hadn’t been anywhere near Rowan’s death. That was the easy part. After all, back then, Kassian had dyed his hair black.I didn’t
The arena is silent, save for the rhythmic pounding of hearts, the quiet inhales and exhales of tense bodies, and the occasional nervous shuffling of feet against the stone seating. A warm breeze drifts through the vast space, whispering through the ears of the gathered pack members, carrying the distant cries of birds and rustling leaves from beyond the towering arena walls. The scent of smoky vanilla and cream—the distinct fragrance that unites them as one—lingers in the air, blending with the individual scents of sweat, fear, and anticipation. The heavy mix of emotions clogs the atmosphere, suffocating to anyone with heightened senses.Yet, among the hundreds of anxious onlookers, one figure remains entirely unaffected.At the highest point of the arena, where the view is unobstructed, Lynette lounges with effortless ease, legs crossed as she leisurely munches on the cookies in the large bowl at her feet. Sunlight spills through the glass roof above, catching the frosty strands of
The air in the pack arena is thick with tension, the faint strong scents of emotions mingling with the crisp bite of evening air. The weight of everything that has happened in the past hour presses against my chest like a boulder, suffocating, heavy.Vivian made Lynette’s demand clear, and then everything spiraled. My father—weak but still an alpha—exploded in fury, his roar shaking the very foundation of the hall. The guards tried to restrain him, but it was useless. His presence alone is enough to make seasoned warriors hesitate, their instincts screaming at them to submit. It was only when Vivian, despite her own exhaustion, used her magic to subdue him that he finally fell. But at a cost—her body shook violently, blood spilling from her lips as the spell took its toll.Then the truth unraveled, piece by piece, in the most horrifying way.I had always wondered why a powerful witch like Vivian tolerated a man like my father. Now, I know. And the knowledge is sickening.Noelle walked
My mother stared back with wide, horrified eyes. Her lips parted, trembling, unable to form words. Then the scream that tore through her throat, so raw it sent a shiver down my spine even now, years later.She lost her mind in that moment. And in that moment, she lost everything.The gleam of the blade was the last thing I saw before she pressed it to her throat and dragged it across her skin.I remember the gurgling sound, the way the air filled with the thick, metallic scent of blood. I remember her collapsing, her body convulsing. The life draining from her eyes.And I remember him. Ryker, my so-called father, standing there. Watching.He rolled his eyes.And then he turned his back and walked away.He never turned back when I ran after him, my screams tearing from my throat as I begged him to save her. He never cared.And neither did anyone else.The pack didn’t mourn the loss of their unkind and selfish Luna. No one spoke of the pain she endured. No one cared about the woman she
Lynette’s fingers tighten around my forearm before she lets go, stepping forward. My muscles tense instinctively, my gut twisting. What is she doing?“Lynette,” I murmur, leaning toward her, my voice low, questioning. Her sudden change of topic throws me off, her choice of words even more so. She knows what she’s doing—she has to. But why?She doesn’t look at me, but I see the way her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath. “Trust me.”My throat bobs, and I force myself to nod, even as unease prickles beneath my skin.Then, she shifts her attention back to my father, her head tilting. “You know,” she begins, almost casually, “I thought my father was the worst man alive. But I stand corrected. Turns out, he’s top-tier garbage, while you, Ryker, take the spot of F-rank waste.”A beat of silence. Then—a strangled noise from the crowd. I hear the sharp inhale of people struggling to keep their composure, the barely stifled coughs that are most certainly hiding laughter. Even the guards