Zara’s POV The Architect’s true form looms over the meadow, a writhing mass of silver veins and shattered bone. Its presence is a weight, pressing down on my chest, on my soul. The Veil’s song fractures, its melody discordant, its rhythm faltering. The twins cling to me, their combined light and shadow flickering weakly. Ryland stands at my side, his wolf snarling, but even he looks small against the monstrosity before us. “What do we do?” Silas whispers, his shadows trembling. I don’t have an answer. The shard is gone, the poison in my veins a ticking bomb. The Architect’s voice echoes in my mind, faint but persistent. ***You can’t win***, he croons. ***But you can join me.*** “Never,” I mutter. The Architect’s form shifts, tendrils of silver lashing out. Ryland shoves me aside, taking the brunt of the blow. He crashes into the ground, blood staining his fur. “Ryland!” He shifts back, his face pale but determined. “I’m fine. Focus on *him*.” The Architect laughs, the
Zara’s POV The wildflowers die where I walk. It starts as a subtle thing—petals curling at the edges, stems bowing as if in mourning. But by dawn, the meadow is a graveyard of blackened husks, radiating outward from the spot where I slept. Ryland says nothing when he sees it, but his jaw tightens. Silas and Selene pretend not to notice, though their stolen glances betray them. They know. They always know. The Architect is gone, but his poison lingers. It festers beneath my skin, a quiet rot the twins’ light can’t purge. I scrub my hands raw in the creek until my knuckles bleed, but the corruption clings, a stain no water can wash away. “It’s not your fault,” Selene says, crouching beside me. Her reflection in the water wavers, her golden eyes too wise for a child’s face. “Isn’t it?” I flex my fingers, watching the creek’s current curl away from my touch, repelled. “I let him in. I made the choice.” “To save us,” Silas mutters, kicking a pebble into the water. His shadows co
ZARA’S POV This can't be happening.It just can't.Those are the words that keep echoing in my head as I stand in the middle of the dinning area, my hands twisting at the rag I was using to clean.Why is this happening to me?My heart pounds in my chest, so loud I am sure everyone can hear it. The room is suffocating, the air thick with tension, as Ryland, the Alpha steps forward. His presence is impossible to ignoreHe is a literal force of nature that commands attention without effort and I can't even move as his footsteps echo against the marble floor of the pack’s ceremonial hall, each step drawing him closer to me.I am going to die.I can’t stop shaking even as my hands tremble, and clenches into tight fists at my sides while I struggle to hold myself together.“Why is he walking toward her?”“Isn’t she just an Omega?”“Maybe he knows her … asked her to do something?”“A slave? What could she possibly help him with? She is nothing.”They are not wrong… and I know better than
ZARA'S POVA dream.That is what these past weeks have felt like.A beautiful, wonderful dreamIt feels like I have stepped into someone else’s life. But it's mineMy life. A life I never thought could ever be possible For one, I am no longer invisible. People see me now. Wolves who used to walk past me without a second glance now greet me with bows and murmured respect. My days of scrubbing floors and dodging sharp words from the pack are over. I wear silks and soft fabrics now, clothes fit for a Luna, ao much so that my own reflection in the mirror startles me sometimes, as if the woman staring back isn’t me.Ryland has been amazingWonderful, caring, and the sex… oh, boy… that is just beyond words.We have been making love every since that first night and he has shown me just how much he cherishes me.From his lips, to his hands to … well … let me just say it has been perfect.It feels like a dream. A perfect, fleeting dream.But beneath all the luxury, I can't help but feel t
ZARA'S POV"I, Ryland Cross, reject you, Zara Hale, as my mate.”"I, Ryland Cross, reject you, Zara Hale, as my mate.”Over and over again, his words replay in my head, each syllable is a dagger digging deeper into me."I, Ryland Cross, reject you, Zara Hale, as my mate."“Oh, goddess,” I gasp as I grip my tummy, trying to catch my breath that has escaped me.The world feels like it's crumbling beneath my feet. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My hands are trembling as I try to hold myself, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest until I think it might cave in.Everything around me is a blur. There are the murmurs, the gasps, the way people shift uncomfortably in the crowd- it all feels distant, like I am watching it from behind a thick pane of glass. And my wolf… who has been silent for so long, finally stirs, but it is not the comforting presence I need. She lets out a howl, low and mournful, a sound full of the same grief that is similar to what I feel.I can't thin
RYLAND’S POV5 YEARS LATER “LIARS!” I roar as I throw my chair across the room, watching as it crashes against the door and splinters to the ground.The room is a wreck. My office looks like a battlefield. Thee are papers scatteredall.jcer the place as my rable lies overturned, and the broken remains of a glass decanter glint accusingly in the faint light.It palws in comparison to how I feel .“FUCKING LIARS!” I roast again as I begin panting, out of breath.My wolf is pacing in my head, snarling at me, blaming me for the mistake I made.A bloody mistakeI shouldn't have trusted them.I should have investigated in my own.All this time…The lies.The deception.My wolf growls again, and this time, I let him. His anger mirrors mine perfectly. My chest is heaving, my nails are extended, claws threatening to tear through my own skin. I need to break something- someone.Kill someone I lean heavily against the desk, the memory of Zara’s face as I rejected her searing into my mind
ZARA'S POVONE YEAR LATERThe first thing I feel is a tiny hand shaking me, followed by a persistent voice.“Mommy, wake up!” Selene’s sweet but insistent tone pulls me from sleep.Before I can respond, another voice joins in- this one more commanding, like his father. “Mommy, it is morning. You said we can’t be late for school.” Silas, always the serious one, tugs at the blanket.I groan, pulling the covers over my head. “Just five more minutes, please.”“Nope!” Selene giggles, and I feel a pair of small hands pulling at the blanket. “The sun is awake, so you have to be, too!”Reluctantly, I open my eyes, to meet with two identical sets of bright, curious faces. Silas and Selene, my children, stand beside the bed, their messy curls framing their angelic features. Angelic now, but I know this peace won’t last long.“All right, all right,” I say, sitting up. “I am up. Happy now?”Selene squeals in triumph, throwing her arms around me while Silas just smirks, crossing his arms like h
Chapter 6: "A Past That Haunts"ZARA'S POVThe smell of rain lingered in the air as I stared at Ryland across the diner table. The space between us felt as wide as the ocean, filled with questions and answers I wasn’t ready to hear. I gripped the edge of the table so tightly my knuckles turned white, my heart pounding hard enough to make me lightheaded.“Zara, you need to let me explain,” Ryland said, his voice soft but firm.I scoffed, shaking my head. “Explain? You want to explain? After everything? After rejecting me in front of everyone, telling me to leave your pack like I was nothing?” My voice trembled, and I hated that I couldn’t keep the pain out of it.He leaned forward, his hands resting on the table as his gray eyes locked on mine. “I didn’t want to do it. You think it was easy for me to—”“Don’t.” I cut him off, raising a hand. “Don’t you dare say it wasn’t easy for you. You didn’t lose everything, Ryland. I did.”His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. The
Zara’s POV The wildflowers die where I walk. It starts as a subtle thing—petals curling at the edges, stems bowing as if in mourning. But by dawn, the meadow is a graveyard of blackened husks, radiating outward from the spot where I slept. Ryland says nothing when he sees it, but his jaw tightens. Silas and Selene pretend not to notice, though their stolen glances betray them. They know. They always know. The Architect is gone, but his poison lingers. It festers beneath my skin, a quiet rot the twins’ light can’t purge. I scrub my hands raw in the creek until my knuckles bleed, but the corruption clings, a stain no water can wash away. “It’s not your fault,” Selene says, crouching beside me. Her reflection in the water wavers, her golden eyes too wise for a child’s face. “Isn’t it?” I flex my fingers, watching the creek’s current curl away from my touch, repelled. “I let him in. I made the choice.” “To save us,” Silas mutters, kicking a pebble into the water. His shadows co
Zara’s POV The Architect’s true form looms over the meadow, a writhing mass of silver veins and shattered bone. Its presence is a weight, pressing down on my chest, on my soul. The Veil’s song fractures, its melody discordant, its rhythm faltering. The twins cling to me, their combined light and shadow flickering weakly. Ryland stands at my side, his wolf snarling, but even he looks small against the monstrosity before us. “What do we do?” Silas whispers, his shadows trembling. I don’t have an answer. The shard is gone, the poison in my veins a ticking bomb. The Architect’s voice echoes in my mind, faint but persistent. ***You can’t win***, he croons. ***But you can join me.*** “Never,” I mutter. The Architect’s form shifts, tendrils of silver lashing out. Ryland shoves me aside, taking the brunt of the blow. He crashes into the ground, blood staining his fur. “Ryland!” He shifts back, his face pale but determined. “I’m fine. Focus on *him*.” The Architect laughs, the
Zara’s POV The twins’ power is a wildfire in my veins—beautiful, brutal, *theirs*—but it’s not enough. I can feel the Architect’s poison slithering deeper, a serpent coiling around my spine. My body flickers like a dying star, half here, half *there*, the Veil’s static clawing at the edges of my vision. “Mom, stay with us!” Silas’s voice is sharp, frantic. His shadows fuse with Selene’s light, their combined energy pressing against the hollow in my chest where the shard once lived. “I’m trying,” I rasp, but the words dissolve into static. Ryland’s grip on my hand tightens, his warmth a tether. “Look at me,” he growls, his face gaunt, his eyes blazing gold. “You don’t get to quit.” A laugh ripples through the meadow—not mine, not the Architect’s. *Hers.* The spectral army crests the horizon, a legion of distortions wearing our faces. There’s a Ryland with hollow eyes and jagged claws, a Silas whose shadows writhe with serpents, a Selene whose light bleeds black. And leading th
Zara’s POV The rain falls in silver sheets, stinging my skin like needles. Each droplet hisses where it lands, searing the meadow’s grass into blackened scars. Ryland’s arms tighten around me, his warmth a fleeting comfort against the cold radiating from the shard lodged in my chest. It pulses in time with the Veil’s dissonant hum, a reminder that the fight isn’t over. “We need to bind the wound,” Ryland says, his voice frayed. He rips a strip from his shirt, but I push his hands away. “It won’t help.” The shard isn’t just in me—it’s part of me now, its crystalline edges fused to bone and sinew. I can feel the Architect’s poison simmering beneath the surface, a dormant storm. Silas crouches nearby, shadows pooling at his feet like ink. “The rain… it’s *changing* things.” He’s right. The droplets aren’t just burning the grass—they’re warping it. Flowers twist into grotesque shapes, stems knotting into serpents that writhe before crumbling to ash. Selene presses her palm to the
Zara’s POV The city screams. Or maybe it’s me. Smoke chokes the air, thick with the stench of burnt ozone and crumbling stone. My ears ring from the explosion, my vision swimming as I stagger to my feet. Ryland’s arm wraps around my waist, hauling me upright before I faceplant into the rubble. “Move!” he barks, shoving Silas and Selene ahead of us. “*Now!*” The Architect’s shadow looms above the city, a living tempest of ink and teeth. It peels back the sky, the Veil’s fragile threads snapping like cobwebs. Buildings dissolve as it passes, reduced to ash and memory. The ground quakes, fissures splitting the streets, and for a heartbeat, I see *through* the world—into the void, into the Architect’s grinning abyss. ***Run, little wolf***, his voice purrs in my skull. ***You’ll die tired.*** “Mom!” Silas grabs my hand, his shadows lashing at the debris raining down. “This way!” We bolt down an alley, the shadow’s roar shaking the earth. Selene stumbles, her light flickering.
Zara’s POV The meadow is too quiet. No birdsong. No rustle of wind through the wildflowers. Just the four of us, huddled in the aftermath of a victory that feels hollow. Ryland’s arm is slung around my shoulders, his grip tight, as if I might dissolve into the grass. Silas sits cross-legged nearby, his shadows coiled like restless serpents. Selene leans against me, her small hand pressed to my chest, her light a fragile pulse against the silver poison still threading my veins. “It’s still there,” she whispers. “The bad thing.” I don’t need to look down to know she’s right. The flowers around us are dead, their petals shriveled and blackened in a perfect circle where my hands had clawed the earth. The Architect’s final laugh lingers in my mind, a thorn I can’t pluck out. Ryland’s voice is gravel. “We need to move. This place isn’t safe.” “Where?” Silas mutters, kicking at a charmed blade of grass. “Back to the creepy city? That lady tried to turn Mom into a bomb.” “Veyra k
Zara’s POV The void isn’t empty. It’s full. Full of whispers that aren’t voices. Full of colors that aren’t light. Full of a pressure that isn’t air. It presses against me, through me, as if I’m the ghost here, not this place. My body feels distant, untethered—a marionette with its strings cut. But my mind… my mind is a storm. You’re awake. The voice is mine, but warped. Cold. I recoil, but there’s nowhere to go. The void stretches endlessly, a canvas of nothing that somehow *watches*. “Where are you?” I demand. Where you left me.The voice drips with mock sweetness. ***In the cracks. In the quiet. In you. Silver threads bloom under my skin, glowing brighter as panic surges. The Architect’s corruption. His final gift. Don’t fight it***, my voice purrs. It’s easier if you don’t fight. “Get out of my head.” ***But we’re having so much fun.*** The void twists. Memories flash—Ryland’s arms around me, Silas’s laugh, Selene’s tiny hands braiding wildflowers into my hair.
Zara’s POV When I wake, the world is noise. Machines shriek. Voices overlap. My veins hum with a foreign electricity, a current that doesn’t belong to me. The Architect’s laughter coils in my mind, lazy and venomous. ***Welcome back, little wolf. Did you miss me?*** I bolt upright, gasping. The room spins—a sterile, silver-lit chamber filled with screens flickering runes I shouldn’t understand but *do*. Councilor Veyra stands at the center, her goggles cracked, barking orders at panicked attendants. “Mom!” Selene crashes into me, her arms wrapping tight around my neck. Her skin is warm, her light dim but steady. No silver veins. *Thank the moon.* Silas hovers behind her, shadows writhing at his feet. “You’re… *glowing*,” he whispers. I look down. My hands shimmer faintly, threads of silver weaving under my skin. The Architect’s mark. Ryland grips my shoulder, his touch anchoring me. “How do you feel?” *Like a lit fuse.* “Fine,” I lie. Veyra whirls, her voice sh
Zara’s POV The city rises from the horizon like a mirage, its spires glinting under a sun that feels too gentle, too kind, after the horrors we’ve survived. Selene’s weight in my arms is a fragile reminder of how close we came to losing her. Her silver veins pulse faintly beneath her skin, a map of secrets I can’t decipher. Ryland walks beside me, his broken hand cradled to his chest, his jaw set in that stubborn way that means he’s biting back pain. Silas trails behind, his shadows coiled tight around his small frame, eyes darting like he expects the Architect to claw back from the dirt. *We’re alive*, I tell myself. *That’s enough for now.* But the quiet part of me, the part that remembers the Goddess’s whispers and the Veil’s collapse, knows better. --- The city gates loom ahead, wrought iron twisted into shapes that make my wolf uneasy—serpents with too many eyes, wolves with wings, humans with hollow faces. A guard steps forward, his armor etched with symbols that mirror