I press a hand to my mouth as laughter spills from my lips, light and uncontrollable. Before me stands a gazebo bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun, its elegant frame draped in gold and white—the colors I adore. White roses climb its pillars, their petals luminous in the golden light, while delicate strands of silk intertwine with the beams, fluttering gently in the breeze.The gazebo itself rises gracefully from the water, a dreamlike structure resting on the tranquil surface. A charming wooden bridge, painted in pearl-white with golden railings, stretches from the shore, inviting me forward. Beneath it, the water reflects the scene like a liquid mirror, shimmering with the warm hues of the fading afternoon.Inside, a round glass table with intricately designed white-gold legs sits at the center, set for two. Lanterns, shaped like water lilies with golden lily pads, are placed strategically around the space, ready to bloom with light as dusk approaches. Fresh floral arrangemen
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “You made wine?” I exclaim, staring at him in disbelief. “You never fail to surprise me.”Kassian shrugs, but I can see the faint pink dusting his cheeks. I don’t hesitate any longer—I grab a fork and dig into the Tex-Mex fajitas first, bringing a bite to my lips. The moment the flavors hit my tongue, my eyes flutter shut. The smokiness of the grilled peppers, the perfectly seasoned meat, the hint of citrus—it’s incredible.“Oh my God, Kassian,” I say, dramatically clutching my chest. “This is unbelievable.”He scratches his chin, looking equal parts embarrassed and pleased. “It’s not that—”I ignore him, reaching for the chicken enchiladas next. One bite, and a moan of delight escapes me before I can stop it. “How are you this good at cooking?” I marvel between bites, practically inhaling the meal.Kassian watches me, an unreadable expression flickering across his face, before finally taking a few bites of his own. But I notice he only picks at the ch
The wind rushes past me, tugging at my hair and sending strands whipping against my face. I exhale slowly, letting the evening air cool the warmth lingering on my skin. The yacht moves smoothly across the water, its golden lights reflecting in shimmering ripples, dancing over the dark waves. The moonlight tries to break through, casting silver trails across the surface, but the glow from the ship is warmer, richer—soft golden hues bathing everything around me. The low hum of the engine merges with the faint sound of music drifting from inside, slightly distorted by the ocean breeze.I grip the railing, letting the cool metal steady me. This is Kassian’s yacht.How did I end up here? Good question.After Kassian dropped that heavy and evasive information about a secret Rowan also has and didn’t tell me, I realized he had been trying to divert my mind, leading me in circles with playful speculation about what his secret could be. It worked—partially.I can’t stop thinking about it.The s
“Lynette.”Elliott’s voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. I blink, dazed, and slowly lift my head from where it had been resting in my palm. For a moment, everything around me feels disjointed—the low murmur of crew members adjusting equipment, the hum of cameras being repositioned, the distant call of the director giving instructions. The scent of artificial smoke from the set lingers in the air, mixing with traces of fresh paint and the faint bitterness of coffee from the nearby catering table. The warm studio lights cast long shadows, contrasting with the occasional cool breeze drifting in from the open lot.Elliott is hunched over in front of me, his hands braced against his knees, his face pinched with concern. The burnt orange parasol above casts shifting shadows over his dark curls, his eyes scanning me with quiet scrutiny. I can feel the weight of his stare, the unspoken questions pressing between us.I hum softly, a quiet, wordless sound th
The air shifts instantly. The arm wrapped around my waist tightens, his grip no longer gentle. His entire body stiffens, muscles coiling beneath me. A faint tremor ripples through him, his entire presence turning rigid.The silence is suffocating.“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of it all.A low, guttural growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against me, raw and primal. The sound is nothing like the Kassian I know—it’s something deeper, something untamed. I flinch, but I still don’t dare lift my head. I don’t want to see the fury I know is in his eyes.His voice is sharp, shattering the tension like splintering glass. “Is this the first time?”I nod, my throat tight, trying to hold back the sob building inside me. The air around us grows heavier, thick with something unseen but powerful. The sheer force of his anger radiates off him in waves, an intensity I recognize all too well. It’s the same kind of presence I felt in the temple, the same suffocating pre
My heart pounds against my ribs as the car rolls into the parking lot of Kassian’s company, a nervous flutter twisting in my stomach.I haven’t seen him in five days. Not since the news broke out. It’s not that he’s avoiding me—he’s just buried under work. Every time we talked on the phone, his voice was laced with exhaustion, tension leaking into even the smallest words. I wanted to do something, anything, to show my gratitude for his support. And since Kassian always makes me feel cared for, I thought it was time to return the favor.Which is why I spent the last five days attempting to cook something edible.With Elliott and Tyson’s reluctant help, I dedicated every free moment to taming my disaster-prone kitchen skills. But I underestimated just how incompatible I am with cooking. What was supposed to be a simple dish turned into something that looked more like a monster summoning circle than an actual meal. I don’t know how it always happens—but viola! It does.Still, I couldn’t
Kassian’s POVI pace up and down my office, my claws scraping against each other as I bite into them—a nervous habit I can’t seem to shake. The room feels smaller than usual, the walls pressing in, the faint scent of leather and recycled air doing nothing to settle my nerves. The air is thick with tension, stagnant with the weight of everything I’ve screwed up.Lynette is passed out on my couch, her breathing steady but shallow. My heart clenches at the sight of her, fragile and unaware. This isn’t how she was supposed to find out—not like this. I was planning to tell her slowly, ease her into it. But now? Now I’m as good as rejected.I run a hand through my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as I force myself to keep moving. The tiled floor squeaks beneath the pressure of my steps. Oliver and Brian sit nearby, their eyes tracking my movements like wary hunters watching a wounded animal. They say nothing, but their silence is heavy, suffocating.This is partly their fault.First, I
A wet, sickening squelch fills the hallway as my boots crush flesh and shattered bone, the blood-soaked remains of the rogues sticking to the soles like a grotesque second skin. The stench is unbearable—a mix of burning meat, rot, and something fouler, something wrong. The air itself feels heavy, thick with the metallic tang of spilled blood and the lingering heat of battle.I move forward, my steps measured, my heartbeat steady, but inside, my mind is anything but calm.Tracking the children had been easy once Lynette sent me the location of Rowan’s old tracking data. It led me to a hidden underground chamber I hadn’t even known existed—despite living in that house for three years. That alone was unsettling, but what really ate at me was the certainty that Lynette had never been in there either. She isn’t the curious type, never the kind to dig for secrets. If she had gone in, she would have seen things she couldn’t unsee—truths about Rowan that would have sent her running for the hi
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