Meera’s POVI couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or if this was just another one of his manipulative tactics, but for a moment, I let myself believe in his words. For a moment, I wanted to believe that maybe he wasn’t just another obstacle, another player in this cutthroat game.I shook my head, a dry laugh escaping my lips. "You think it’s that simple?""It can be," he said softly. "But only if you stop pretending you have to do everything on your own."His gaze held mine, unflinching, waiting for me to say something. But what could I say? What could I possibly offer in a situation where I had already lost so much?"I can’t fix this," I said, barely more than a whisper, the weight of those words heavier than I could bear.Gabriel didn’t release my wrist, but his expression softened, his thumb still tracing gentle circles. "No one expects you to. But you don’t have to fight it alone anymore."For a second, just a split second, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I w
Lyra’s POVI sat on the edge of the mattress, the rough fabric of the blanket pressed against my skin, as if it might offer me some kind of protection. My hands were shaking, clutching the fabric with a desperation I didn’t fully understand. My body still felt bruised, raw from what had just transpired. I couldn’t stop replaying the events in my head, the way he had pressed me against the wall, his lips frantic, hands gripping me with an intensity that felt like it could break me. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t kind. It was forceful, wild, and I felt like I had been consumed by it.His touch had been suffocating, but it wasn’t just the physical strain that left me trembling. No, it was the fact that he had taken something from me. My virginity, my first time, something I thought I would give to someone who cared. Instead, it had been stolen from me in the heat of his hunger, and I was left feeling hollow. The tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t cry in fron
Vincenzo’s POVThe moment I told her the truth, her eyes glazed over with disbelief, as if I had just shattered everything she thought she knew about herself. She shook her head, lips parted in protest. For a brief second, I wondered if she was going to argue with me or run away. But instead, she rose from the mattress, the duvet slipping from her body like she was in a frenzy, desperate to disprove the words I had just spoken.“You’re lying,” she whispered at first, but there was panic in her voice now, a growing desperation that she couldn’t quite hide. “This—this can’t be real.”She came at me, her body trembling with a mix of anger and fear, and for a moment, I let her approach. I didn’t want to push her, not yet. I wanted to see her face, wanted to see the way she tried to fight it, tried to claw her way out of what was happening between us. But as she reached for me, as her hand came out to touch my arm—to convince me I was wrong—I couldn’t let her.I grabbed her wrist with a fo
Vincenzo's POVThe air was thick with heat as I stood before the massive gates of the Hell Pit, the stench of sulfur mixing with the stale humidity of the dark, cavernous expanse within. It was a place no one in their right mind would willingly venture, yet here I was, driven by a singular, relentless purpose—her.I needed to get inside. Marcello was down there, and my mate was in his clutches. The idea of her trapped in this hellish domain twisted something inside me—something primal, something raw.I took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts of her terrified eyes from my mind for just a moment. I couldn’t afford to lose focus now.The guards, two hulking figures dressed in black armor, glared at me as I approached, my boots pounding the earth with each deliberate step. Their gazes were cold, like marble statues come to life. I didn’t care.“I want to see Marcello,” I demanded, my voice sharp like a blade drawn across stone.One of the guards shifted, folding his arms across his chest
Marcello stood before the vast, dark windows of his chambers, gazing out over the hellish expanse that stretched out below. The Hell Pit was a place of power, a fortress built on fear and bloodshed, and he had made it his kingdom. The stench of sulfur, blood, and iron hung in the air like an oppressive fog, but to Marcello, it was home. It was his dominion, a realm of suffering and control.His fingers drummed lazily on the stone windowsill as he waited. He had been expecting this. Vincenzo would come. Of course he would. The fool had always been driven by emotion, and now, that emotion was his undoing. He had no idea what he was walking into, how deep the darkness ran here. How deep it would swallow him.A knock at the door broke his thoughts."Enter," Marcello called, his voice smooth, cold, and casual. He didn’t need to turn to see who it was. He knew. The heavy footsteps, the unmistakable pulse of anger and determination—it could only be Vincenzo. He felt it like a storm on the h
Lyra's POVI leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the burglary door, the rhythmic sound of my heart echoing in my ears. The weight of the revelation from earlier pressed down on me like a thousand-pound stone. My client—this terrifying, enigmatic figure who’d hired me to investigate his pack’s secrets—was my mate. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I didn’t even want to stop thinking about it. My heart raced as I considered what this meant for me. For us. I didn’t know if I was ready for what lay ahead. The pack, the responsibilities, the power, the dangers.The harsh, cold air of the cell made my breath fog. I closed my eyes and leaned back, trying to silence the thoughts swarming in my head. Maybe if I closed my eyes long enough, I could escape them. I could escape him.A sudden tap on my shoulder broke my reverie. I froze, eyes snapping open."Lyra?"I turned sharply, expecting one of the pack guards. Instead, I found one of them—the youngest by the looks of it, a nervous t
Lyra povMarcello’s voice broke through the haze of panic. “Don’t be foolish,” he said, his tone now less menacing, but just as commanding. “I’ll take care of you, Lyra. Just come with me.”“Why?” I blurted out, trying to force some kind of control over the situation. I wasn’t just some pawn in his game. “What do you want from me?”Marcello stared at me for a long, silent moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was more serious, more grounded. “I want you to understand what it means to be mine.”And then, for a brief second, I saw something flicker in his eyes—something that wasn’t entirely cold. Something that was almost... vulnerable. But it was gone before I could grasp it.Before I could react, he turned toward the door. “Come,” he ordered, his voice final. “We have work to do.”I stood frozen, torn between running and following him.But in the end, I did neither. I simply stood there, my fear and curiosity warring inside me, waiting for the next move.I stood there, trembling
Lyra's POV Tears streamed down my face, relentless and warm as they fell from my eyes, unable to stop despite my best efforts to fight them. Marcello’s grip on my hand was firm, almost cruel in its insistence. His fingers were tight around mine, as though he was trying to brand me with his touch. Every second felt like an eternity as his words echoed in my mind, mocking me, trapping me in a cage I couldn’t escape. “I’m your mate, Lyra. You’ll accept me, whether you like it or not.” The words themselves were a poison, dripping from his lips like venom, and yet, I couldn’t do anything to stop them. My heart raced with fury, the beating of my chest a constant reminder of the life I was supposed to live before this nightmare. His cold, commanding gaze bore into mine, and the heat of the moment was suffocating. My stomach growled loudly, a cruel reminder of the emptiness that gnawed at me, of the hunger that I could no longer ignore. “Can we eat first?” I muttered, voice low and hoars
Rebekah’s POVI kicked the damn door open like I owned the place — which, to be fair, I practically did, considering the number of times I’d cleaned up everyone's messes around here. The second I stepped into the corridor, the scent of antiseptic hit my nose, and my boots clicked a little too loud on the cold concrete. I didn’t care. My heart was jackhammering in my chest.Someone dared to touch my Lyra? Oh no, baby. That just didn’t fly with me.The guards gave me that wide-eyed look — you know the one — half fear, half don’t get in her way if you value your spleen. I stormed past them like a queen with a mission. My fists were clenched, my ponytail swinging like a whip behind me, and my blood was boiling like a volcano ready to blow.I didn’t even knock.I barged straight into Lyra’s cell — and froze.There she was.My Lyra. My stubborn, brilliant, sarcastic mess of a best friend. Sitting cross-legged on that ratty excuse of a cot like nothing was wrong — except there was something
Marcello’s POVI leaned back in the rusted steel chair, arms crossed over my chest as I watched the woman they dragged into the visitor block—Meerah, they said her name was. She looked like she belonged in some glossy magazine, not here in the Hell Pit. The contrast was almost laughable. Her sleek coat was smeared with gravel dust, one of her heels broken. Her lipstick smeared like blood at the corner of her mouth.Good.She looked like a storm had blown through her, and I knew exactly who that storm was—Lyra.The guards had separated them, but not before the damage had been done. And now, here she was. Sitting in front of me. Breathing hard. Shaking, though she tried to hide it.“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharp and low, laced with a growl that had made stronger men piss themselves.She blinked at me like I’d spoken another language.“I came to see Lyra,” she said, chin tilting up defiantly, though her voice trembled just a little.I slammed my fist on the m
Lyra’s POV“Get the hell up, Lyra, you have a visitor.”The guard’s voice was a growl, thick with annoyance as he slammed his palm against the iron bars. The sharp clang echoed through the cold, moldy walls of my cell like a death bell.A visitor?I squinted against the weak beam of sunlight filtering through the barred window. In five months—five long, soul-chewing months—not a single soul had come to see me. Not even to spit in my direction.“What? Are you deaf now?” the guard barked, pulling the chains that shackled my wrists to the wall. “Move!”My legs, stiff and sore from days of barely moving, wobbled beneath me. Heavy chains clanked with each step as I shuffled forward, wrists bound, ankles trapped. The guard shoved me hard in the back, nearly sending me to the filthy floor.“I said move!”“I heard you the first time, Shrek,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to catch.He grunted but didn’t respond. Probably used to inmates cracking from being locked away. But I wasn’t crac
Vincenzo’s POVI stared at Frank for a moment, the tension simmering just beneath my skin. The ballroom's golden chandeliers blurred in the background as if the world had shifted out of focus and left only his words hanging—she likes you.A slow grin cracked my face, disbelief wrestling with hope. I threw my drink—an obnoxiously expensive glass of scotch—over my shoulder. It smashed on the marble floor with a satisfying crack! Heads turned. I didn’t care."FRANK!" I bellowed, flinging my arms open and grabbing him in a crushing bear hug. He smelled like cheap cologne and bad decisions. "You’ve got the best damn view in the house!"Frank coughed. "Vince, I think my spine just cracked.""Shut up and feel appreciated, you sentimental hedgehog!" I released him and stepped back, slapping both hands on his shoulders. "You saw it. You saw it! Lyra looked at me like I was the only man in the room!""I mean," Frank began cautiously, eyes darting toward the shattered remains of my scotch, "she
Marcello’s POVI was in my chamber sipping my wine when the door was angrily pushed open. I knew it would be her—no one else stormed into my private quarters like that.I didn’t flinch. I didn’t look up. I merely took another sip, letting the sharp, aged taste of the red run over my tongue as I settled further into the velvet chair. I snickered softly.“Rebekah,” I said, her name a calm ripple in the storm that was about to break. “To what do I owe this... delightful intrusion?”“You bought her,” she spat, voice shaking with fury. “You bought Lyra.”I lifted my gaze, finally meeting hers. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her hands clenched at her sides, eyes ablaze. Her beauty always intensified when she was furious—like a storm about to rip the sky open.“So she told you,” I murmured, letting the glass dangle lazily from my fingers. “That surprises me. She hardly speaks to me at all.”“You’re not answering the question,” she snapped, stepping forward. Her boots struck the marble like
Lyra’s POV“I can't occupy everywhere if it’s a joke to you. I’m a bit too slim and tall for that. I don’t have the luxury of blending into tight corners like a mouse or sliding between bars like some rogue in a fairy tale.” I tried to explain myself to Rebekah, who had appeared outside my cell with a glint in her eye that suggested she found all of this a bit too entertaining.She sat down on the stone bench beside me—closer than I expected—like we were longtime friends catching up. Her face hovered near mine, scanning my expression with the curiosity of someone watching a particularly juicy drama unfold. My eyes must’ve told the story already. Stressed. Tired. Worn out like a shirt that had been through too many washes and too many bad days.“You look like someone used you to clean the floor,” she said, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. “Your eyeballs are screaming, girl.”I huffed, folding my arms over my bony chest. “Thanks, Rebekah. Nothing like being compared to a rag to brigh
Meera’s POVGabriel snorted. “They look like they’d taste like old money and cruelty.”I laughed—sharp and sudden—and it startled both of us. I hadn’t realized how close I was to shattering until the sound escaped.Gabriel reached across the gearshift and laced his fingers with mine. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got some cash. I mean, not mansion-cash. But enough.”“I don’t care about the money,” I whispered.“I know. That’s what scares him.” He glanced over. “You’re the only thing in his world that doesn’t have a price tag.”I stared at him, at the curve of his jaw, the tiny scar near his eyebrow from when he fell off his skateboard last year, the way he looked at me like I was human—messy, complicated, and still worth choosing.“Where are we going?” I asked.He smiled. “Anywhere but there.”Which turned out to be a 24-hour diner that smelled like burnt coffee and salvation. We slid into a booth with cracked red vinyl seats, steam clinging to the windows, everything humming with fluore
Meera’s POV“I’m not having this conversation again.” I crossed my arms and leaned back into the velvet couch like it was my throne. “You hate Gabriel. We get it. Move on.”Dad stood by the fireplace like some overgrown villain from a period drama, one hand wrapped around a crystal glass of scotch he hadn’t even sipped. He wasn’t drinking. He was brooding.“You’re throwing your future away for a boy with no legacy, no—no direction,” he snapped. “Do you know what the Sinclairs think about this?”“The Sinclairs can choke.” I said it calmly, too calmly, which I knew would needle him more than screaming.His eyes flared. “Meerah.”“Don’t Meerah me,” I shot back. “You act like I’m bringing home some street criminal. He’s smart, kind, and he doesn’t kiss your ass, which, let’s be honest, is the real issue here.”Dad laughed, the kind of cruel, clipped sound that made my stomach twist. “Kind? Is that what you think this boy is? Sweetheart, he’s a parasite. Clinging onto my daughter for a tas
Marcello’s POVShe flinched when I entered. Like my shadow alone was poison.I shut the door behind me and said nothing at first. Just stood there, staring at the girl who haunted my nights and defied me by day.“Lyra,” I said softly, taking a step toward her.She shrank back immediately, pressing herself into the carved headboard. “Don’t touch me.”I paused. My hands lifted instinctively—open, calm, as if that would undo what she’d just lived through.“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.“You already did,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why are you like this?”I felt something coil inside me. Something old and cold.“You belong to me,” I said, slowly, carefully. “No one else gets to speak into your life. Especially not her.”She blinked, her lips trembling. “Her. You mean Rebekah?”I didn’t answer.“You lied to me.” Her voice grew stronger, edged with fury. “You never told me she was your ex. Why?”“That is none of your concern,” I snapped.She flinched again. I gritted my teeth