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THORNE SINCLAIR

Author: Geneva Cross
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-05 22:41:00

Serena.

I straighten quickly, shoving the parchment behind me. “I, I was just dusting.”

A smirk tugs at his lips. Not the usual cruel, mocking one. This one seems amused.

“Dusting,” he repeats, shaking his head. “With your hands all over confidential war reports?”

I open my mouth, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out. I’m dead. This is it, but then, he laughs.

Not a dry, bitter chuckle but a real laugh. I blink, stunned. Tristan never laughs.

“You really are something,” he says, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see what you’re trying to do?”

My heart races and I step back instinctively, but he just leans against the desk with his arms crossed, watching me like I’m the most amusing thing in the world.

Then, he tilts his head. “Tell me, little thief, what do I get in return for my silence?”

I stare at him, completely thrown off. Where is the usual coldness? The cruelty? The threats?

I hesitate. “Anything?.” I state, totally confused by what is happening.

His smirk widens. “Hmm. Tempting. But you’ll have to do better than that.”

I clench my fists, trying to figure out what game he’s playing. This isn’t normal. None of this is normal.

Before I can say another word, someone enters the chambers. “What’s going on here?”

I turn, and my stomach drops. Tristan?.

I whip my head back to the man in front of me, even more confused. This isn't Tristan?.

My heart slams against my ribs as I realize it is not Tristan.

The man in front of me is smirking, completely unfazed, while the real Tristan stands in the doorway, his eyes cold like it normally is.

That’s when I finally understand. It has been Thorne Sinclair the whole time.

The rumors were true. The second heir, identical to Tristan in every way except in character and personality.

Thorne stands lazily, his smirk never fading. “Just admiring your new slave,” he says smoothly. “I have to admit, she’s quite captivating.”

Tristan’s eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

Thorne winks at me before turning and striding past him, whistling.

I exhale slowly, my heart still slamming against my ribs. I just had a conversation with Thorne Sinclair, and I didn’t even know it.

The day is long and hard, it's like Tristan is even more on edge because of his brother's visit. I’m given errand after errand, barely given time to breathe.

By the time I return to the manor’s main hall, exhaustion clings to my bones. My hands are sore, my feet ache, and the hunger gnaws at me.

Then it happens. I don’t even see the porcelain vase until my elbow knocks it off the edge of the table. It shatters into a thousand pieces, the sound echoing through the chambers.

Silence follows, a slow, deadly silence. Then, Tristan’s voice, sharp as a blade booms “Useless slave.”

I barely turn before he’s in front of me, his hand gripping my chin roughly.

“Mistakes have consequences,” he says, his tone cold and final. “No food. Not a single crumb. Let’s see if you learn obedience on an empty stomach.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left trembling.

By nightfall, my stomach is twisted in painful knots and my body is weak. I curl up in the corner of the servant quarters, pressing my knees to my chest wishing for death.

Just as I am about to close my eyes, I hear hurried footsteps coming towards me and I look up to see Sylvaine standing before me, a silver plate in her hands.

Not just scraps, but real food. Meat, warm bread, and fresh fruit. The scent makes my mouth water painfully.

She kneels beside me, her expression blank. “Eat,” she says simply.

I hesitate. “Why are you helping me?”

She shrugs. “Because I like you, do you not like me?.”, she asks feigning hurt.

I take the plate, my fingers shaking. "Thank you," I whisper.

As I sleep that night, I sleep peacefully happy that for the first time, someone in this gods-forsaken place shows me kindness

The next day, the sun hangs high, casting a harsh glow over the courtyard as I scrub the bloodstains from the training grounds. My back aches, my hands are raw, and hunger gnaws at my insides.

I am invisible here. Just another slave, another forgotten figure.

Until I hear his voice. “She’ll do.”

I freeze, my fingers stilling against the stone tiles. Slowly, I turn my head.

Thorne Sinclair stands a few feet away, his piercing silver eyes locked into mine. A smirk plays at his lips, one that makes my stomach twist, not with fear, but confusion.

The warriors and servants nearby lower their heads, stepping away as if they know better than to interfere.

“You,” Thorne says, gesturing toward me, “come serve in the meeting hall.”

The words send a ripple through the onlookers. A slave? In a high council meeting?

My pulse quickens. “I, I have work here.”

Thorne raises a brow, amused. “Now, you have work there.”

A guard grabs my arm before I can protest, dragging me forward. I glare at Thorne, but he only chuckles, turning on his heel and leading the way inside.

The moment I step into the grand hall, the atmosphere is suffocating.

Elders, warriors, and high-ranking wolves sit in a semicircle around the long oak table. Maps, scrolls, and documents lay scattered across its surface.

I move carefully, my presence barely acknowledged.

Suddenly, the heavy doors slam open, shaking the walls, and a familiar, towering figure strides in.

Tristan Sinclair.

His silver eyes find me instantly, his expression darkening. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he takes slow steps toward me.

Then, he grabs my wrist. Hard.

“She is a slave” he growls, his voice echoing through the hall. “She does not belong here.”

I barely have time to react before another hand clasps around my other wrist.

Thorne Sinclair.

The entire room stills and Tristan’s eyes snap to his twin.

Thorne’s smirk is gone now, replaced by something more dangerous. His grip on me tightens just slightly, his voice smooth but firm.

“Let go of her, Tristan.”

The hall becomes as still as a graveyard suffocating me and I'm sure everyone else.

Two brothers. Two Alpha heirs, with me trapped between them.

I hold my breath. Then, Tristan’s grip tightens but Thorne pulls harder.

A war is brewing which has nothing to do with this incident or me, but I know I’m standing right in the middle of it.

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  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    THE THINGS WE BURY

    Serena.The air in the greenhouse is still thick with his scent. With the ghost of a kiss I hadn’t asked for but hadn’t refused. My lips still tingle, not from pleasure, but from the confusion that now coils inside me like smoke trapped in glass. I lean back against the planter, staring up at the dark, dripping glass above.He kissed me.Tristan Sinclair kissed me, not his wolf, but himself. Not Thorne. Not the one who had stayed beside me through fire and loss. But Tristan. The one I should hate. The one I tried to hate.And gods help me, a part of me had kissed him back.I don’t go back to my room. I don’t trust myself to sleep. Instead, I wander through the garden paths, past the sleeping blooms, my mind replaying his words again and again.You’re playing a dangerous game, Serena. And you’re not the only one getting burned.What did he mean by that? Was it jealousy? Was it a warning?Or was it something else, something darker?By the time I return to the manor, dawn is beginning t

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    THORNS AND WHISPERS

    Serena.I cannot breathe.The smirk on Tristan’s face is gone by the time I blink, replaced with his usual mask of cold detachment. But I had felt it, heard him. The mate bond, raw and undeniable, had reached for me like an unseen tether. “I know what you’re doing.”The words echo again and again inside me, louder than the music or the chatter around the table. I force myself to move, to pour wine into a goblet with my shaky hands.“Don’t look back”. “Don’t falter”. “Just finish your task”. I mumble to myself the rest of the night.I leave the high table with my pulse thundering in my ears. I can feel his eyes still on me, like a blade pressed against my back.By the time I slip into the servant’s passageway, I am trembling. Not just with fear, but confusion. Did he know? About the pendant? About the resistance? About Thorne?Gods. About me?I press my hand to my chest, as if I can stop my heart from revealing more than it should. The bond is supposed to be dormant, suppressed since

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    EYES THAT SEE TOO MUCH

    Serena.“Did he come?” Thorne’s voice cracks through the quiet, jagged and heavy like a stone hurled into still water. I freeze, breath catches in my chest, a thousand answers crawling up my throat.“Who?” I ask, though I already know who I think he means.His eyes meet mine, searching. “The traitor. The one who took Sylvaine?.” He pauses. “You keep glancing at the door and you have the same expression you had when she was taken.”Relief comes sharp and fast but guilt rides in its shadow. Because yes, some part of me was waiting. Waiting for the crash of another storm, the familiar sting of Tristan gaze. For someone I had no right still thinking about.“No,” I whisper, my voice barely there. “He didn’t come, he escaped.”Thorne’s expression doesn't shift. He doesn't ask for more. Instead, he leaned forward, cupped my jaw in his calloused hand, and kissed me again. The kind of kiss that tried to forget the world. I let myself get lost in it, just for a moment longer.But even now, part

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    THE CHOICE

    Serena.“We need to talk Serena”, Thorne says as he barges into the quarters. I hold my breath expecting the worse and formulating lies in my head as to why Luther is with me.However, he’s gone. One second Luther is standing right next to me in the quarters. The next… the space is empty. “It's about what we said earlier”. Thorne murmurs scratching behind his ears, totally oblivious to what just happened.I barely have time to respond when another voice interrupts. “Serena.”It's Tristan. Of course.He storms in behind Thorne like he owns the damn room. His eyes flick to Thorne, and then back to me with that same old disgust curling on his lips.“You were supposed to clean the eastern baths this evening. They reek of wolf sweat,” he says coldly, his arms folding.I stammer, “I—I forgot. I’m sorry, I’ll get to it now—”Thorne’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing. He turns his back and walks out.I cannot just watch him go again, so I run to him this time, my heart beating too fast for

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    SCARS AND SECRETS

    Serena.It’s been days since I saw them, Isabel and Luther. Days since I stood outside her door with the image of them making love burning into my mind.I haven’t told anyone. Not about what I saw. Not about what I felt. Not even about the kiss that still lingers like a curse on my lips.I bury myself in my secret training, errands, anything that will keep my mind from spiraling. I feel empty inside, I know it might be because of Tristan's continuous cold attitude towards me, despite being mates, or it may be because Thorne no longer looks at me or acknowledges me. It may also be due to the fact that my childhood love, Luther didn't work out and now he is also not in good terms with me. Either way, the emptiness keeps on eating me from inside out, and although I should be worried, it is better to feel numb than to bear the pain in my heart.One afternoon, I run into Isabel behind the manor. She’s tending the moonflowers that only bloom when the night air is still. She straightens w

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    SUCKING AT LOVE

    Serena.“Head Back”, Tristan commands and his army turn around immediately as if controlled by an unseen force.We walk in silence, anticipating the worst as we head back to the manor. Surprisingly, the Nytheran manor stands quiet. Too quiet.No smoke. No fire. No signs of an attack. Just an unsettling calm that settles over the grounds like fog. My heart drops as we rush in, Tristan at my side, the warriors fanning out with blades drawnready for a war that doesn’t exist.Luther escaped, and now I'm sure sending the scout And the scout? No trace of him. He lied.This whole thing was a ploy. A distraction. And we fell for it.Queen Aliyah summons me not long after. The guards escort me through marble corridors that echo with each of my footsteps. When I enter the royal chamber, Sylvaine is already there, arm bandaged, pale but alive.Queen Aliyah descends from her throne slowly, her expression stoic and composed.“You showed courage,” she says. “Protecting Sylvaine. Facing the enemy h

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    TRISTAN

    As soon as I sighted the army behind them, I let out a loud growl and shifted immediately. My wolf charged at them, swiftly dodging Serena and Sylvaine and pouncing on one of the soldiers. The air burned. It was the kind of heat that crawled under your skin and seared you from the inside out. My wolf was snarling, itching for blood. Steel rang out behind me as Nytheran warriors surged forward, answering my silent command. But I didn’t care. I only saw him.My target is the bastard who is standing in the middle of his army with a stupid smirk on his face.As soon as I get to him, he shifts into his wolf, turning around and blending in with his army. “If it isn't the all powerful Tristan Sinclair, Alpha Heir to the Nythera Pack”, he says in a mocking sing-song voice.It just made me want to rip out his throat, but as I got closer, he moved faster than I could have predicted and grabbed Serena who stood just ahead, dirt-smudged, bruised, but alive. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

  • FROM SLAVE TO LUNA    THE HUNTED HEART  

    Tristan.I felt it before I could name it. A low, coiling growl stirred in my chest, and my wolf jerked awake, wild, feral, and furious.Someone is touching her.The images weren’t clear, but the bond twisted sharply inside me, a painful, suffocating tug in my chest. I stumbled back, clutching the edge of the table in my room as the world spun.My wolf howled in rage, clawing to the surface.“Ours. Mate. She’s ours!”The first time he’d said it, I hadn’t believed him. Not when she looked so broken, so enslaved. Not when she had knelt in the mud like a thing without a soul. And certainly not when she flinched from my touch.But the first time she looked at me. I knew and my wolf never stopped calling her mate after that.And now... now she was with him.I didn’t remember bursting into the house. Didn’t remember the splintered door or the way Thorne was on top her, his scent all over her. Didn’t remember the way she looked at me, startled, ashamed, like I’d caught her doing something w

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