Zara’s POV The scent of blood and burnt pine clung to the air long after the battle ended. Silas slept curled against Ryland’s chest, his small fingers still twitching with residual power. Selene clung to my leg, her cheek pressed to my thigh as she stared at the pack—now silent, now staring. “They’re scared of us,” she whispered. I smoothed her hair. “They’re just surprised, baby.” “No.” Her voice trembled. “They’re scared *for* us.” Ryland stepped forward, Silas limp in his arms, and the pack parted like water. “The children are exhausted,” he said, tone brooking no argument. “We rest tonight. Tomorrow, we rebuild *together*.” A grizzled warrior named Jarek spat into the dirt. “Rebuild what? A graveyard haunted by witches?” Ryland’s growl reverberated in my bones, but Selene slipped from my grip before I could stop her. She marched up to Jarek, her chin tilted defiantly. “You have a daughter,” she said. Jarek stiffened. “She’s dead.” “No.” Selene pressed a tiny ha
You don’t sleep. Not when the twins’ nightmares have returned. Silas whimpers first, his small hands clawing at the blankets. Selene follows, her tiny body jerking awake as if pulled by invisible strings. You’re already halfway to their bedroom when their twin cries slice through the dark. “Mommy—” Silas chokes out, tears streaking his cheeks. “The fire-eyed man… he’s *close*.” Your stomach knots. Zane. “Shhh, it’s just a dream,” you lie, gathering them into your arms. Their small frames tremble against you, their shared heartbeat too frantic for children so young. You hate this—the way their gifts trap them in visions they can’t escape. A floorboard creaks behind you. You spin, shielding the twins with your body, but it’s only Ryland. Moonlight spills through the window, etching the hard lines of his face. He’s still dressed, his shirt rumpled, eyes shadowed. You wonder if he’s slept at all since arriving here. “They saw him again?” His voice is gravel-rough. Selene
Second Person POV You don’t have time to scream. The world fractures into chaos—glass shards rain down like jagged hail, Zane’s feral snarls echoing through the broken windows. Silas clings to Ryland’s neck, his tiny fingers digging into the Alpha’s skin, while Selene scrambles behind the overturned couch. Shadows writhe like living things, their tendrils lashing at Ryland’s wolf as he shields the children. “Get them out!” you shout, but the command dies in your throat as Zane’s amber eyes lock onto yours through the shattered frame. He’s not the man who brought you groceries or fixed the twins’ swing set. This Zane is all predator, his human form blurred at the edges, claws elongating into obsidian daggers. “You *owed* me, Zara,” he hisses. “I gave you shelter. I *loved* them.” Ryland shifts back mid-snarl, blood streaking his bare chest. “Touch them and I’ll peel the flesh from your bones.” Zane laughs—a broken, hollow sound. “You think you’re still their savior, Cross?
Ryland Pov You wake to the sound of Selene’s whimpers, her small fists clawing at the air as if fighting invisible chains. Silas lies rigid beside her, his eyes wide and unblinking, moonlight reflecting off the tears streaking his temples. They’ve shared a bed since the attack, their nightmares too synchronized to separate. “It’s okay,” you whisper, gathering them close. Their skin burns against yours, feverish and damp. “You’re safe.” Selene buries her face in your neck. “The lady with the crown… She wants to *take* us.” Silas nods, his voice hollow. “She smells like ash and lies.” *The Elders.* Ryland’s warnings echo in your skull. *They’ll come for the twins. For their power.* You hum a lullaby, the same one your mother sang before the Bloodfang Pack slaughtered her. The twins’ breathing evens, but their hands stay fisted in your shirt. Ryland stands in the doorway, a shadow among shadows. “They’re getting worse,” he says. You don’t answer. --- ### **||** Break
--- The gates creak open, and the scent of blood hits you like a wall. The Bloodfang compound is a graveyard. Bodies litter the courtyard—warriors, Omegas, even children. Their throats are slit, their eyes wide and unseeing. The air reeks of iron and betrayal. “What the hell…” Ryland’s voice is a low growl, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. Selene whimpers, burying her face in your neck. “They’re scared, Mommy. All of them.” Silas grips your hand tighter. “The crowned lady did this. She’s… laughing.” Your stomach churns. The Elders. They’ve turned on their own pack. Ryland steps forward, his boots crunching on shattered glass. “Show yourself, Marcellus!” The shadows shift. Elder Marcellus emerges from the darkness, his robes stained crimson. His face is gaunt, his eyes hollow. “You’re too late, Ryland. The ritual has begun.” “What ritual?” you demand, shifting to shield the twins. Marcellus smiles—a grotesque twist of lips. “The one that will make us gods.”
Ryland Pov The bonfire crackles, painting the pack’s faces in warm, flickering light. Laughter rings out—a sound so foreign after months of fear—as warriors pass around spiced mead and children chase each other through the long grass. Even the stars seem brighter tonight, as though the Moon Goddess herself is celebrating. You sit beside Ryland on the dais, his thigh pressed to yours, the twins asleep in his lap. Selene’s cheek smushes against his chest, her curls wild from Silas’s earlier attempts to braid them. For the first time in years, your wolf is quiet. *Peaceful*. Ryland’s fingers brush yours. “They’re safe, Zara,” he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “We’re *all* safe.” You want to believe him. But the scars on your ribs ache, and Silas’s hands still glow faintly in his sleep. A cheer erupts as Elder Kael—*former* Elder, now just Kael—raises his cup. “To our Alpha and Luna! To the twins who shattered the darkness!” The pack roars. Ryland’s arm tightens around
Zara's POV The bakery is quiet, the soft hum of the oven the only sound breaking the silence. The twins are at the counter, their heads bent over a coloring book, their little hands moving in sync as they fill the pages with bright, chaotic colors. I watch them from the kitchen, my heart swelling with a mix of love and fear. They’re so innocent, so unaware of the storm brewing just outside the fragile bubble I’ve built for them. And then the door opens. The bell above it jingles, a sound so familiar it usually brings me comfort. But not today. Today, it feels like a warning. I step out of the kitchen, wiping my hands on my apron, and freeze. Ryland stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his presence overwhelming. His dark eyes sweep the room, landing on the twins before finally settling on me. My heart stops. “Mommy?” Selene’s voice is small, curious. She peeks around me, her wide eyes darting between me and Ryland. “Who’s that?” I don’t answer. I
Zara's POV The days after Ryland’s arrival blur together, each one a strange mix of tension and tentative hope. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. He just… stays. He lingers on the edges of our lives, watching, waiting, as if he’s afraid to step too close. The twins, of course, are curious. They ask questions—questions I don’t know how to answer. “Is he our daddy?” Selene asks one evening as I tuck her into bed. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “Why do you ask that?” She shrugs, her little face serious. “He looks like us. And he smells… familiar.” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “He’s… someone from Mommy’s past. But he’s not your daddy.” It’s a lie, and I hate myself for it. But I’m not ready to tell them the truth. Not yet. Silas, ever the perceptive one, doesn’t ask. He just watches Ryland with a quiet intensity, like he’s trying to figure him out. One afternoon, I find Ryland sitting on the porch, his head in his hands. He looks up when I approach, his eyes shado
Zara’s POV The forest is unnervingly quiet this morning, the usual chorus of birdsong replaced by a heavy silence. I watch from the edge of the clearing as Silas and Selene kneel beside Lyra, their small hands pressed to the frost-laced ground. Lyra’s voice is a low murmur, her silver hair blending with the pale dawn light. “Focus on the currents,” she instructs. “The Veil is not a tool—it is a living thing. Respect its rhythm.” Selene’s glow brightens, tendrils of light spiraling from her fingertips into the earth. Beside her, Silas scowls, his palms flat against the soil. “It’s fighting me,” he grumbles. “Because you’re forcing it,” Lyra chides. “You must *listen*, Silas. The Veil responds to intention, not dominance.” I clutch my cloak tighter, the cold seeping into my bones. Every lesson feels like a step closer to losing them—to this destiny that demands too much, too soon. Ryland’s hand settles on my shoulder. “They’re getting stronger,” he says, but his voice lacks
Zara’s POV The Veil’s Guardian—Lyra, as she introduced herself—has taken up residence in a secluded corner of the Bloodfang territory. Her presence is both a comfort and a reminder of the weight the twins carry. Every morning, Silas and Selene disappear into the forest with her, returning hours later with stories of lessons that sound more like riddles. “She says the Veil is like a river,” Selene explains one evening, her glow flickering as she mimics Lyra’s graceful hand movements. “And we have to learn how to swim in it without drowning.” Silas rolls his eyes. “It’s not that hard. You just have to focus.” I exchange a glance with Ryland, who’s been unusually quiet since Lyra’s arrival. “What do you think of her?” I ask later, as we prepare for bed. He hesitates, his gray eyes shadowed. “She’s powerful. And she cares about the twins. But I don’t trust her.” “Neither do I,” I admit. “But if she can help them control their powers…” “Then we’ll let her stay,” he finishes. “
**Zara’s POV** The first snow of winter blankets the Bloodfang territory, turning the forest into a glittering wonderland. The pack is quieter now, the echoes of battle replaced by the soft crunch of snow underfoot. But peace is fragile, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s only a matter of time before the next storm hits. The twins are outside, their laughter ringing through the clearing as they chase each other through the snow. Selene’s glow leaves faint trails of light in her wake, while Silas’s silver eyes glint with mischief. They’re children, but they’re also so much more. “They’re growing up too fast,” I murmur, watching them from the porch. Ryland steps beside me, his arm brushing mine. “They’re strong. They’ll handle whatever comes their way.” “They shouldn’t have to,” I say, my voice tight. He sighs, his breath fogging in the cold air. “I know. But they’re not just our children, Zara. They’re the pack’s future. And they’re already proving they’re ready for it
**Zara’s POV** The elders’ fortress looms like a skeletal hand clawing at the sky, its black stone walls slick with frost. The air is thin here, each breath sharp as a blade, but the pack presses on. Behind me, warriors from Bloodfang and Shadow territories move in unison, their growls a low, thunderous hymn. Silas and Selene walk at my side, their hands clasped in mine. “Stay close,” I murmur, though I know they won’t. They never do. Selene’s glow pulses faintly, her eyes wide but unflinching. “They’re waiting for us,” she whispers. Silas tightens his grip on my hand. “Let them wait.” Ryland strides ahead, his black fur bristling as he shifts to human form at the base of the fortress. “This ends today,” he says, his voice carrying over the wind. “For our pack. For our future.” The howls that answer shake the earth. ---**Ryland’s POV** The elders’ magic stings the air, a poison that makes my wolf snarl. They stand atop the fortress, cloaked in shadows, their chants we
**Zara’s POV** The northern mountains loom in the distance, their jagged peaks cutting into the sky like broken teeth. The air is colder here, sharper, and the scent of pine and snow does little to mask the underlying tension in the pack. We’ve been traveling for days, following Kael’s lead, and every step feels heavier than the last. The twins walk beside me, their small hands clutching mine. Selene hums softly, her glow flickering like a candle in the wind, while Silas scans the horizon with a seriousness far beyond his years. “Mommy,” Selene whispers, tugging at my sleeve. “Do you think the bad men will come tonight?” I force a smile, brushing a curl from her face. “Not if we can help it, sweetheart.” Silas frowns. “But what if they do? What if we’re not ready?” I kneel, pulling them both into a hug. “You’re stronger than you know. Both of you. And we’ll face whatever comes together.” Ryland approaches, his expression grim. “We’ve set up camp ahead. Kael’s scouts have
**Zara’s POV** The morning after the battle, the camp is eerily quiet. The air smells of damp earth and healing herbs, and the wounded wolves rest under the watchful eyes of the healers. Selene sits cross-legged in the center of the clearing, her tiny hands glowing as she mends a warrior’s broken ribs. Silas stands beside her, his arms crossed, his silver eyes scanning the crowd like a miniature Alpha. I watch them from the edge of the clearing, my chest tight with pride and fear. They’re so small, so fragile, and yet they’ve already done more for this pack than I ever could. “They’re remarkable,” Ryland says, appearing beside me. I don’t look at him. “They’re children.” “They’re more than that,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re the future of this pack. And they’re stronger than we give them credit for.” I turn to face him, my anger flaring. “They’re *five*, Ryland. They shouldn’t have to be strong. They shouldn’t have to fight.” He meets my gaze, his gray eyes steady.
**Zara’s POV** The camp erupts into chaos. Wolves snatch weapons, children are herded into the center of the clearing, and the air thickens with the sour tang of fear. Ryland barks orders, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade, but all I hear is the roar of my own pulse. *The rogues are coming. The twins aren’t safe.* I grab Silas and Selene by their wrists, dragging them toward the healer’s tent. “Stay here,” I command, shoving them inside. “Do *not* move.” Silas crosses his arms. “We can fight!” “You’re five years old,” I snap. “Five and a *half*,” Selene corrects, her glow flickering defiantly. “Stay. Put.” I slam the tent flap closed, tying it with a shaking hand. Ryland appears beside me, his face bloodless. “The rogues are closing in. They’ve got wolfsbane arrows.” My stomach plummets. Wolfsbane meant for *children*. For *my* children. “Get them out of here,” I say, my voice cracking. “Take them and run.” He grips my shoulders. “They’ll hunt us. The
Zara’s POVThe scent of ash and iron lingers in the air, a grim reminder of the battle that rewrote our fate. Bloodfang and Shadow wolves move through the clearing like ghosts, their eyes darting to the twins huddled near the fire. Silas pokes at the flames with a stick, his brow furrowed, while Selene hums softly, braiding moonflowers into her hair. Innocence and power, coiled together. Ryland stands at the edge of the clearing, speaking with Kieran and a scarred Shadow wolf I recognize as Jarek—Zane’s former second. My stomach twists. *We’re supposed to trust them now?* “They’re staring again,” Silas mutters, glaring at a group of Bloodfang warriors. “Let them stare,” I say, adjusting the bandage on his scraped knee. “They’re just curious.” “No, they’re *scared*,” he corrects, his voice too sharp for a child’s. “They think we’re monsters.” Selene’s humming stops. “Like the bad men?” “No, sweetheart,” I lie, sweeping her into my lap. “They’re… surprised. That’s all.” Ry
Zara’s POVThe forest explodes in a cacophony of snarls. Shadows burst from the trees—wolves with teeth bared and eyes glowing like embers. My grip tightens on the silver dagger, its hilt biting into my palm. Ryland shifts beside me, his wolf form towering and lethal, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. If I do, I might forget how to hate him. “Stay behind me,” he growls, fur bristling. “I don’t need your orders,” I snap, but the words die as a wolf lunges at us. Ryland intercepts it midair, jaws clamping around its throat. Blood sprays the grass, metallic and sharp. Another wolf darts toward the cottage, and my heart stops. *The twins.* “Silas! Selene!” I scream, sprinting past the fray. The door swings open before I reach it. Silas stands in the doorway, his small frame rigid, eyes blazing an unnatural silver. Behind him, Selene clutches her stuffed wolf, her curls glowing faintly under the moonlight. “Mommy, the bad men are here,” she whispers. “Get back inside—” A snarl