I grip the spoon in my hand so tightly that my knuckles turn white, the cold metal pressing uncomfortably against my palm. My teeth grind together as I force myself to swallow my rage. The voice—sickly sweet and grating, like nails scraping against a chalkboard—calls my name again.“Lynette! Oh my God, it is you!”I exhale sharply through my nose, shifting my gaze from my clenched fist to the woman in question.Cheryl.The moment my eyes land on her, a scoff escapes my lips before I can stop it. Of course, it’s her. That stupid face, those fake gray eyes that always gleamed with manufactured innocence, the long, silky black hair that she constantly flicked over her shoulder like she was some kind of goddess among mortals.My beloved maternal cousin.The reason I was labeled the black sheep of my family. The witch who stole the only man I ever considered opening my heart to. And that man—Matthew—was standing right beside her, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed anywhere but at me.Patheti
Kassian’s POVThe text from Lynette lingers in my mind like a stubborn echo, bouncing off the edges of my thoughts.“Good morning, Cherry Cake. Hope you slept well. Just texting to make sure you aren’t dead. Call me back when you see this.”Her words play on a loop, distracting me from the task at hand. I sit at the head of the long, polished conference table, papers spread out before me, but they might as well be blank. A presentation unfolds on the wall behind the nervous presenter, but I’ve caught none of it.I’m supposed to be focused. I’m supposed to be in control. Yet, the sound of her voice lingers in my mind, soft and teasing, as though she’s right beside me.It’s maddening.No, she’s maddening.I haven’t replied. Of course, I haven’t. I’ve ignored every message, every call since the last time we met. I tell myself it’s better this way, but every time her name lights up my screen, it sets something off in me. Something raw and restless.She’s driving my wolf insane, and Fenrir,
The conference room feels stifling. The hum of the air conditioning isn’t enough to cool the tension prickling at my skin. The faint scent of varnished wood mingles with the sharp tang of coffee, abandoned in cups scattered across the table. The room is dimly lit, save for the harsh glow of the screen in front of me, which vibrates insistently in my hand.My grip tightens around the phone, its edges digging into my palm. The phone buzzes again, the sound sharp and grating against the silence. My breath feels too loud, my heartbeat heavier than it should be. Fenrir stirs, no longer sulking in the background of my thoughts. His excitement the polar opposite of mine.“Answer it! Please, please, please!” he pleads, his tail wagging in my mind’s eye. The usually ferocious wolf, now acts like a pup eager to play.My thumb hovers over the screen. A video call.The thought makes my stomach twist in knots. I can barely handle her voice without feeling my composure crack. Seeing her, facing her,
Lynette’s POVThe smooth leather of Kassian’s chair glides under me as I twist back and forth, savoring the soft creak of the material with each shift of my weight. The faint aroma of his cologne clings to the air, a tantalizing mix of sage, cinnamon and rosewood that makes my cheeks heat, though I’d never admit it out loud.My phone rests in my hands, the screen glowing faintly in the muted light of the office. I’m half-heartedly typing out a reply to a message I should’ve answered hours ago, but my attention is elsewhere. It’s hard to focus when the thrill of rebellion hums through my veins, a quiet defiance that makes me grin despite myself.This wasn’t the plan.When I decided to drop by unannounced, my intentions were simple: surprise him, throw him off-balance, maybe even catch him smiling for once. But as soon as I stepped through the doors, the receptionist intercepted me with that practiced, tight-lipped smile.“He’s in a meeting,” she said, her voice too smooth, her eyes dart
The karaoke bar hums with life, a chaotic mix of pounding music, clinking glasses, and the rise and fall of laughter from a crowd that seems intent on leaving their inhibitions at the door. A faint haze of smoke lingers in the air, mingling with the sticky-sweet scent of spilled cocktails and the faint tang of fried food. The lights overhead pulse in sync with the music, casting shifting colors across the packed room, from warm golds to electric blues.I glance at Kassian standing stiffly beside me, his hood drawn low over his face and a baseball cap tilted just enough to hide his sharp features. He’s trying to blend into the shadows, his arms crossed so tightly over his chest that I can almost hear the fabric of his hoodie strain. His presence alone makes the space feel smaller, his quiet intensity a sharp contrast to the carefree atmosphere.“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, the gruffness in his voice almost lost in the music’s bassline.“Relax,” I reply, patting his arm. His muscle
I huff heavily, dropping into the soft yellow chair in the corner of my manager’s apartment. The cushion sinks beneath me, wrapping me in its plush embrace, but the comfort it offers does nothing to ease the tight knot in my chest. My head tilts back, my eyes fixing on the gray ceiling above as I let out a frustrated sigh. The room feels stiflingly quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic outside the window.Four days.Four days since the karaoke.The memory plays in my mind like a cruel tease. I can still see Kassian’s faint smile when he waved me goodbye, the way his lips quirked just enough to send my heart racing. He had insisted one of his bodyguards bring my car around since I’d left it at his office, and then we’d driven to the karaoke bar together in his sleek, spotless car.It wasn’t perfect. He grumbled, resisted, and acted like he’d rather be anywhere else, but I was certain—certain—he’d enjoyed himself in the end.And he’d promised to call.I swallow hard as I feel the st
Elliott looks up from his tablet, his stride halting mid-step as his sharp eyes land on me. I’m sprawled on the yellow chair, my legs dangling over one arm and my head tilted back against the other.“You look like bullshit,” he says, his voice flat but edged with his usual sarcasm.A soft, jaded laugh escapes me. “I feel like bullshit.”He arches an eyebrow, places the tablet on the coffee table with a deliberate thud, and crosses the room with a steady, purposeful gait. There’s concern written across his face now, his brows drawn together as he stops just short of my chair.Elliott has this way of looking at people like he’s trying to figure out how to fix them, as if every problem is solvable with just the right touch of logic and kindness. It’s a maddeningly earnest quality, and one of the reasons I’ve grown so attached to him.I chuckle dryly, glancing up at him. “Meet Elliott, everyone. A man who cares far too much about humans for his own good. He’s excellent at his job, an even
Kassian’s POVThe boardroom is flawless—cold, sleek, and uncomfortably spotless. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in just enough light to give the illusion of openness, but the heavy, airtight stillness betrays the room’s true nature. The faint hum of the air conditioning blends with the occasional creak of leather chairs as board members subtly shift in their seats. The partial silence is heavy, pressing down like an unspoken command, daring anyone to break it.Yet, the usual sense of control only makes the storm in my mind louder.The presenter’s voice drones on, a steady stream of words describing revenue margins and strategic expansions. The click of her laser pointer punctuates each slide of the glowing pie chart, its rhythm as persistent as the dull ache in my chest.My gaze drops to the phone resting beside my notes, its black screen a taunting reminder of the unanswered messages. Lynette’s name is burned into my mind like a brand, each syllable dragging me further into an obses
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