“You shouldn’t have followed me,” I hissed under my breath, as I and Lysa trudged through the dense forest, the branches snagging at our clothes like skeletal fingers. The darkness of the night was oppressive, the moon hidden behind thick clouds, casting the woods in an eerie, suffocating gloom. Lysa ignored my words, her face set in a grim expression. “You needed backup. Besides, I wasn’t about to let you go alone.” My mind was racing with everything that had happened. The stranger’s cryptic message had left me reeling, my thoughts a whirlwind of questions and fear. But the one thing I couldn’t shake was his claim that the prophecy had been misinterpreted—that I wasn’t a threat to the pack, but its savior. If that were true, it would change everything. The rejection, the fear, the isolation—I had been living a lie, all because of a mistake in how the prophecy was understood. But could I trust him? Could I believe that what he said was true, or was this just another manipu
“You think you can just waltz back in here like nothing’s changed?” I hissed, pacing back and forth in my small cabin, my eyes locked onto Gideon as he stood by the door, his face etched with a mix of guilt and determination. The weight of Thorne’s final words still hung over me, and now, I had to deal with this—the one person I thought I could trust was nothing more than a spy. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.” Gideon flinched but didn’t back down. “Sera, I—” “No!” I cut him off, my voice trembling with the fury bubbling inside me. “You don’t get to explain yourself. I trusted you, Gideon. I let you in, and all this time, you’ve been feeding information back to Marcus. Or worse—to Alaric. How do I know you haven’t been working for him all along?” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might walk out, might finally reveal himself for the traitor he was. But instead, he took a step closer, his eyes pleading. “I’ve never betrayed you, Sera. Not once.
The smell of burning wood and the metallic tang of blood filled the air as I raced through the dense forest, my heart hammering in my chest. Gideon’s hand was firm on my arm, pulling me forward, but my mind was elsewhere—on the pack, on Silverwood, on the chaos that had erupted behind us. I could hear the distant howls of wolves in battle, the clash of claws and teeth echoing in the night. “We’re not going to make it if we keep running like this,” I gasped, struggling to keep up with Gideon’s relentless pace. “We need a plan.” “We will make it,” Gideon replied, his voice a low growl. “But we can’t stop. Alaric is close.” We burst through a thick patch of underbrush, emerging into a small clearing lit by the pale light of the moon. I stumbled to a halt, breathing heavily, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. But the forest was eerily silent—too silent. “Where are we going?” I demanded, yanking my arm free from Gideon’s grip. “We can’t just keep running blindly
The crackling firelight flickered over Alaric’s face, casting deep shadows that made his expression unreadable. The forest around us was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. We were sitting in the heart of the ruins, where the ancient altar lay broken and scattered, a testament to the battle that had just taken place. I could still feel the remnants of dark magic in the air, a heavy presence that lingered like a bad memory. Gideon lay nearby, his breathing shallow but steady. He was still recovering from the brutal attack by the resurrected werewolf ancestor. I had managed to heal his worst wounds, but the strain on his body was evident. Every time I glanced at him, guilt gnawed at my insides. This was all because of me—because I hadn’t been able to stop Alaric sooner. I turned my gaze back to Alaric, who sat across from me, staring into the flames. His eyes, once burning with hatred and ambition, were now filled with something I hadn’t expected
The darkness that had swallowed me whole felt suffocating, its weight pressing down on my chest. My lungs screamed for air as I fought to claw my way back to the surface, to break free from the iron grip that held me captive. My thoughts were a frantic whirlwind—flashes of faces, memories, and fragments of the prophecy that had haunted my every step. But through it all, one thought stood out, sharp and clear: This is not how it ends. With a surge of determination, I wrenched myself free, gasping as I broke through the surface of consciousness. The cold night air filled my lungs, and I opened my eyes to find myself back in the ruins. Alaric and Gideon were at my side, their faces etched with worry. The creature—the thing that had nearly killed me—was gone, its dark presence lingering only as a memory. But the moment of relief was fleeting, replaced by a gnawing sense of dread. I could still feel it, that suffocating darkness, lurking at the edges of my mind. And I knew, without
Isabella Blackwood was taken. The news hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me reeling. My mind raced, trying to piece together how this could have happened, how Alaric could have gotten so close without anyone noticing. The adrenaline pulsed through my veins, heightening every sense, sharpening every instinct. "Alaric," I whispered, the name like venom on my tongue. My hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palm. “He took her.” Gideon, standing beside me, nodded grimly. “It’s a message, Sera. He’s forcing us into a confrontation.” The word echoed in my mind, bringing with it a flood of possibilities—none of them good. Alaric wasn’t just after the pack. He wanted something more, something deeper, and Bella was his bargaining chip. But this wasn’t just about Alaric. I could still feel the chilling presence of the true enemy lurking in the shadows, pulling the strings, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And now, with Bella in his grasp, Alaric had set the
The darkness that swallowed us was suffocating, pressing down on me with a weight that felt almost tangible. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound of it loud in the oppressive silence. I could hear the creature’s growl, low and rumbling, a reminder that it was still there—still hunting us. “Rowan,” I called out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “Are you okay?” “I’m here,” he responded, his voice strained with the effort of holding the creature at bay. “But I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” I had to think, had to come up with a plan before it was too late. But my mind was racing, clouded with fear and uncertainty. I could feel Bella trembling beside me, her fear mirroring my own. The creature moved in the darkness, its glowing eyes the only indication of its presence. I could sense its power, ancient and terrifying, something beyond anything I had ever faced before. It was as if the air around it crackled with dark energy, making it near
As the creature began to explain the ritual that was required to break the curse, a sudden noise echoed through the chamber. The sound was faint at first, like a distant rumble, but it quickly grew louder, more urgent. The ground beneath us trembled slightly, and I could feel a surge of dark energy rippling through the air. The creature’s eyes widened, glowing brighter with an intensity that sent a jolt of fear through me. “They are coming,” it growled, its voice filled with a mix of anger and alarm. “Alaric’s forces have breached Silverwood.” My heart skipped a beat, and I exchanged a panicked glance with Rowan. “Alaric’s forces? But how did they get here so quickly?” “They seek the artifact,” the creature hissed, its massive form tensing as if ready for battle. “They know of its power, and they will stop at nothing to claim it.” The realization hit me like a cold wave. The cursed artifact—the very thing that could control werewolves, the key to breaking the curse—was the rea