The royal vehicle travelled down the dark roads as the rain drummed against the roof loud. It was silent inside and I sat motionless, staring at nothing, my hands clenched in my lap as I fought the grief clawing its way up my throat. The thought of Alistair’s death made my chest heavy, and no matter how much I tried to steady my breathing, the dread inside me only grew. Edward sat beside me. His presence was somewhat comforting even if I was mad at him. He had tried once go reach for my hand, but had pulled away. “Lianna,” he said softly. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The lump in my throat was too thick and my emotions were too raw to speak. I didn't want to sound brash. The thought of Alistair—his lifeless body the sheer wrongness of it—made my eyes brim with tears. A sob tore its way out of my throat before I could stop it, and then another, until I was shaking, unable to hold it in anymore. Edward stiffened beside me. I knew he wanted to comfort me, but he also k
Edward I straightened my shoulders as I stepped back into the grand ballroom. I was extremely uncomfortable. I didn't want to be here right now but I shoved it aside, forcing a smile as my presence was immediately noticed. A few of the Alpha Kings, already deep into their drinks, raised their goblets in greeting. “Where the hell did you disappear to?” Aldric slurred, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I swear, you just ran off with your Luna in the dead of night. Don’t tell me you finally have a romantic bone in your body, Edward.” Laughter rippled through the group. I smirked, letting the teasing roll off my back. They had no idea what I had just seen, the bodies I had left behind. The last thing I needed was anyone suspecting something was wrong. “I had to show her something,” I said, taking a slow sip of my drink. “Something private.” I let the insinuation hang, and they roared with amusement. Aldric clapped me on the back, nearly spilling his wine. “Didn’t kn
Lianna: The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its glow barely reaching the shadows pooling in the corners of the room. Lianna sat curled against me trembling ever so slightly as I cradled her in my arms. My hand rested against the smooth curve of her back, fingers tracing slow circles, but I knew the comfort was fleeting. She wasn’t the type of woman to be soothed by an embrace alone. She finally spoke. “Edward… this feels wrong.” I tightened my grip, pressing her closer. “I know.” She lifted her head, her eyes clouded with a fear she rarely let surface. “The war just ended, yet here we are again, on the brink of something we can’t even name. And this… this might be worse.” I exhaled slowly. I hated that she was right. She had always seen things as they were, never sugarcoating reality. And what was our reality now? A palace filled with the dead and dying. A sickness creeping through our walls like a shadow with no name. Lianna’s fingers traced over my fo
Lianna: I hadn’t closed my eyes since yesterday, and now, as dawn broke through the darkness outside, the pack was in disarray. Everything was getting worse and it wasn't even up to two days yet. What the hell was going on? I sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the silk sheets between my fingers as my jaw tightened in frustration. I could hear guards rushing through corridors, their voices rising in urgency. Something was wrong. Very wrong. And yet, here I was, locked away like some fragile thing that needed to be protected. Edward had ordered me to stay inside, and had even placed guards at the door to ensure I wouldn’t leave. The thought alone made my blood simmer with anger. Ingrid sat across from me, wrapped in a blanket. Her skin was damp with sweat. The fever had plagued her all night, yet she looked slightly better now—still pale, but more alert than before. She watched me carefully, her tired eyes fighting to stay awake . “You’re burning a hole th
Lianna: The moment we stepped into the hospital, I noticed the shift in atmosphere. Everything felt hauntingly different. It was overpowering, carrying the pungent scent of antiseptic, sweat, and something far worse—the unmistakable stench of death. The halls were filled with people. Some crying, some groaning in pain, others lying still in death. The soft wails of grieving families, the coughs of the sick. It all made me sick. My stomach twisted at the sight of a woman kneeling beside a stretcher, clutching the lifeless body of what looked like her mate, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Ingrid exhaled beside me, a shaky breath that barely masked her distress. “You were right to come here.” I pressed my lips together, my jaw tightening as we moved deeper into the chaos. “I act on impulse,” I admitted, keeping my voice even, “but it’s never been the wrong course—just the wrong person running with me.” Ingrid gave a weak chuckle, but there was no rea
Freya: I lay sprawled on my bed, silk sheets cool against my bare skin, as I listened to the endless shouts from the palace corridors. The cries of the sick, the hurried footsteps of frightened servants, the urgency in the voices of the guards as they struggled to maintain order—it was all delicious. I bit down on my lower lip, suppressing the grin that threatened to stretch across my face. The outbreak had begun the moment they carried Alistair’s corpse away. What they didn't know was that his lifeless body was nothing more than a vessel of decay and disease. I imagined the horror on their faces when the first symptoms appeared, the way their hands trembled as they reached for their swords—useless against an enemy they couldn't fight. And while they ran in circles, desperately trying to contain the inevitable, I had locked myself away, safe. Dipping my fingers into a small porcelain jar, I scooped out a thick, herbal-scented ointment and smeared it over my wri
Edward: The garden was meant to be a surprise. A hidden sanctuary built just for her. I ran a hand along the smooth bark of an ash tree, inhaling the crisp scent of damp earth and the faint, lingering aroma of night-blooming jasmine. The air was fresh, cool from the recent rainfall, carrying a hint of petrichor that made the entire garden feel untouched and sacred. Lianna would have loved it. I had imagined showing it to her last night, watching her expression shift from curiosity to wonder as she took in the stone pathways, the soft lantern glow, the intricate carvings on the wooden benches I had designed myself. But instead, she had learned the truth—about Alistair’s death, about the heartbreak that I hadn’t wanted to burden her with. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head as I lowered onto the stone bench near the fountain. She had been furious with me. A true Luna through and through. Even when I would have preferred to take control, to handle everyt
Lianna: I stormed into my chambers, slamming the door behind me. My hands trembled as I paced from one end of the room to the other, in my mind, an endless loop of that scene—Freya in Edward’s arms, her head buried in his chest like she belonged there replayed in my mind. My stomach twisted. It doesn’t matter. I told myself that over and over again. It meant nothing. Edward hadn’t initiated it. He wouldn’t— But why did I care? I clenched my jaw, running a hand through my hair. I feel nothing for him. That had been my truth for so long, my shield against the truth I was running from. Although he was kind to me, he was still the brother of my ex-husband and there was a contract binding our agreement. But the moment I saw Freya touching him, something inside me snapped. A knock sounded before Ingrid walked in, her presence familiar, grounding. The moment I saw her, the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I saw Edward hugging Freya.” Ingrid rai
Lianna: The morning light was shy, barely bleeding through the velvet curtains when I cracked my eyes open. I didn’t need a clock to know what day it was. My chest already felt like it was caving in. The air hung heavy, saturated with that stale chill that often preceded sorrow. A mourning fog rolled outside our window like some prophetic omen, brushing ghostlike tendrils across the glass. Edward hadn’t moved beside me. His breath rose and fell in shallow waves, his hand still loosely curled around mine like he feared I’d disappear in my sleep. I shifted slowly, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. We were going to banish his brother. I sat up and pulled the duvet around me, the fabric swishing softly against my bare skin. My toes hit the floor with a shiver, the marble tiles beneath me as merciless as the decisions we had to make today. My robe hung at the edge of the armchair, still draped from the night before. I sl
Freya: The night felt too loud for how quiet it was. Crickets whined in the grass like tiny, angry violins, and the wind kept slipping through the cracked wooden shutters, brushing cool air against my bare arms like an unwelcome ghost. I was lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers I’d been chasing in circles. My bed creaked with the slightest shift, the old mattress groaning beneath the weight of my body. I shouldn't have come back here. I shouldn’t have returned to this house. I shouldn’t have ever listened to her. My chest ached. That tight, slow burn of regret that started somewhere beneath my ribs and dragged itself up to my throat like it had claws. I reached up and rubbed the heel of my palm against my eyes, trying to stop the tears that had already found their way to my pillow. My face was warm, wet. I could taste salt. My breath shuddered on the exhale. “I didn’t want this,” I whispered into the room, voice barely audible over
Edward: The eggs Tarantino made were, as he warned me, an absolute disaster. But the bread was warm, and it was good enough to make me forget about the burnt rubber taste of the eggs. We ate in silence, only the scraping of silverware and the occasional sip of coffee filling the air. My mind wasn’t exactly on the food anyway; it was stuck on the conversation we’d had earlier. Tarantino was right, of course. Everything happens for a reason. I could hear the words repeating in my head, like a stubborn echo bouncing off the walls. But as much as I wanted to believe him, that sentiment did nothing to ease the weight in my chest. Nothing could change the fact that I was sending my brother into exile, to a life without the Pack, without me, without any of the privileges that came with being a royal. But I couldn’t just let the sorrow flood over me, not in front of Tarantino. Not in front of the only person who still seemed to see me for more than just my title. So I swallowe
Edward: The drive was long, and Harvey wouldn’t stop humming that off-key tune under his breath like he was trying to win some invisible award for irritation. I didn’t say anything because well, silence stretching between us felt safer than opening my mouth and letting all the tangled thoughts spill out. My jaw ached from clenching it too tight. My nails had dug half-moons into my palm by the time we pulled into the small, quiet Pack territory that felt like the world had forgotten it. “I remember this place being a dusty excuse of a town,” I muttered, eyes flicking over the paved roads and fresh buildings. “Now look at it. They have actual sidewalks. I should’ve sent Ethan here for humility training.” Harvey chuckled but didn’t comment. Smart choice. It’d been years since I last came here. I was just a boy, clinging to my father’s hand while he laughed and pointed at the bakery with the awful scones and the house with the broken weather vane that somehow never got
Lianna: The palace had never been this quiet. Not even during the former Alpha's father’s funeral, when the halls were draped in black silk and everyone spoke in whispers like mourning had a volume limit. No. This silence was different. It hung in the air like a mist, curling around the columns, sliding under doors, seeping into my skin like cold. I sat on the balcony, elbows on the marble balustrade, chin resting against the back of my hand. My eyes drifted somewhere beyond the courtyard, past the rustling hedges and the guards stationed like statues, to a place I couldn’t name. The sky was pale and slow today, the clouds dragging their feet like even they couldn’t be bothered to hurry. A soft breeze combed through my hair, lifting strands across my face, and I didn’t bother to tuck them behind my ear. Ingrid was beside me, her legs propped up on the ornate table, scrolling through her phone like it held the cure to this numbness
Ethan: The moment Edward’s footsteps faded from the dungeon, I felt my chest constrict. I was alone. And not in the usual way where I sought solitude; this time, I felt like I was suffocating. I collapsed to my knees, the cold, damp floor seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My tears came in torrents, hot and bitter, an unforgiving reminder of everything I had lost, everything I had thrown away. There was no one left to blame but myself. I didn’t even care how pathetic I looked at this moment. All I wanted was the sting of reality to fade, even if only for a second so I could catch a sense of monetary relief. The memories of my life before all this pain before Freya, before Lianna, before the twisted path I had walked flashed through my mind like a parade of ghosts. I remembered how everything had been so simple back then. It was supposed to be me and Lianna, always. We had a bond, a bond that nothing could break, or so
Edward: The echo of my boots against the marble hallway was all I could hear as I stepped out of the study, my hand still clenched from how tightly I’d been gripping the edge of the desk moments ago. My jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Not now. I told myself I wasn’t going to interfere. I promised Lianna I wouldn’t. But promises made in the eye of a storm rarely stand when the wind changes. And gods, it changed. The moment the elders started screaming over each other like a pack of senile hounds, all clamoring for blood, I had to shut them up. I didn’t even remember raising my voice until the silence hit. Until they all turned to me, and I, like a damn fool, spoke the decree. Now my baby brother would be banished to the Drekavac Hollow, and somehow, my voice had sealed it. The air grew colder the deeper I went, but I barely noticed. My fingers brushed the stone walls out of
Edward: My journey from the courtroom to my study was a tumultuous one. I fought back tears I hadn't shed in years. Hell, I fought the urge to turn on my feed and go back to the court to change my mind over what I had said concerning Ethan, but that was futile. The judgement had been made and as bad as it made me feel, I had to be rational. I had to embrace reality and see Ethan for who he really was beyond my brother. I slammed the door behind me harder than I meant to. The sound echoed off the tall bookshelves like a gavel dropped by the gods. I’d always found comfort in this room. In its silence and its order, but today it felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. I could easily just step back out and take a walk or even go horse riding, but I knew it wasn't going to take away that terrible misery that was keeping me company right now. Which meant running away from whatever I was feeling wasn't the cure to my pain. I ran a hand through my hair, pacing a
Lianna: The air in the hall was suffocating, tight, pressing against every corner of my skin like the heat of a blacksmith's forge. The walls of the courtroom seemed to close in the moment I stepped in, hand in hand with Edward. I could feel his grip tighten slightly, almost imperceptibly, as our eyes fell on the man seated at the center of the gathering. Ethan. His gaze landed on us and didn’t waver. But I saw it. That subtle shift in his posture. The way his spine straightened, like the presence of our united front had finally forced him to understand that his days of immunity were over. Good. I wanted him to feel that fear. I wanted him to sit with it. We took our seats as murmurs spread through the chamber. Some voices were hushed, others hissed outright with emotion. The elders looked especially tense. Some wwr already whispering amongst themselves, robes rustling as they fidgeted, eyes darting between one another. An elder rose. He was tall and lean, his