Lianna: I had spent the entire morning pacing my chambers, attempting to distract myself with work, with books, with literally anything that didn’t involve Edward and her. But no matter what I did, my thoughts kept circling back to them. The laughter they shared. The hushed conversations. The way he looked at her, not quite like a man in love, but not like someone who despised her, either. It made my skin crawl. What exactly could I do to snap Edward out of this daze he had been in since he let his anger dictate things for him? I was actually done feeling guilty, but the anger remained. It fucking remained. It was eating through me like fucking cancer. Reminding me that no matter what happened, Freya would always win. Just as she had won with Edward. I exhaled sharply, staring at the untouched breakfast tray on my table. Even the smell of freshly baked bread and rich honeyed tea—things I normally enjoyed—made my stomach churn. I hated feeling this way. Helple
Edward: Lianna was driving me fucking crazy. And not that I was complaining, but things were starting to get really bad between us. One moment, we were fine—laughing, talking, sharing those rare, fleeting moments where it felt like nothing in the world could come between us. Then the next? She was storming off. And at the center of it all? Freya. Even when it didn’t seem like it, Lianna was right. Freya had done something to me. I just didn’t know what. Lianna had just dismounted her horse and stormed off—again—leaving me standing there like a fucking idiot. I didn’t even know what had set her off this time. It could’ve been anything. The way I spoke, the way I looked at her, or maybe just the fact that I was breathing in the same goddamn space as her. I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply before moving to follow her. I barely made it five steps before slamming straight into Harvey. "Where the hell do you think you’re going?" His tone was flat, but there wa
Lianna’s POV The wooden door shut behind me with a dull thud, and I exhaled sharply, shaking off the remnants of my irritation. Just as the man was about to step inside, I called out, my voice firm but polite. "Hey!" He stopped abruptly, his broad shoulders tensing before he turned, one brow arched in confusion. The fading light outlined his face—sharp jaw, sun-weathered skin, dark eyes that held an unreadable glint. I came to a halt before him, brushing loose strands of hair away from my face. "Sorry for stopping you like that," I said, offering a small smile. He studied me for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Is there an issue?" I let out a short laugh, crossing my arms. "You seriously don’t know who I am?" He shrugged, casual as ever. "No clue." For a second, I thought he was joking. I blinked. "No clue?" He shook his head. Okay, either this guy lived under a rock or he was messing with me. "I’m the Luna," I said, watching his expression
Edward: For a long second, neither Harvey nor I spoke. Then— "What the fuck was that?" Harvey’s voice was filled with confusion and anger. I ran a hand over my face, exhaling. "I don’t know." Harvey let out a sharp breath. "You don’t know?" He took a step closer, his frustration rolling off him in waves. "Edward, she has cast a fucking spell on you. And you’re just sitting here, smiling like a goddamn fool while she plays you like a puppet." I frowned. "It’s not—" "Don’t," he cut me off, his voice low, dangerous. "Don’t you dare defend her. You’re better than this." I looked away, my fingers tightening around the box Freya had given me. Harvey scoffed, shaking his head. "You do realize this is exactly how it started with Ethan, right?" I flinched. "Wake up, Edward," Harvey said, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. "Because if you don’t, you’re going to lose everything." Then, without another word, he turned and stormed out, slamm
Lianna: I had never been happier in my entire life. With Edward gone, Freya and I had a silent battle of stares. I didn't tear my gaze away from her. I wasn't afraid. I remained seated, picking at the last bits of my meal, savoring the moment as I lifted my goblet to my lips. The wine tasted sweeter than ever. Freya, on the other hand, was barely holding it together. Her hands trembled at her sides, fingers curling into fists against the tablecloth. She looked torn between fury and fear, her knuckles white as she tried to steady her breath. Good. “You—” Her voice wavered, but she stood anyway, her chair scraping against the marble floor as she shot daggers at me. “You’re lying.” I arched a brow, swirling the wine in my glass. “Am I?” “Yes,” she hissed, her chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’re making all of this up just to turn Edward against me.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but I had seen better performances. “Freya,” I sighed, s
Freya: The moment I slammed the car door shut, my nails dug into the steering wheel. My entire body vibrated with barely contained rage, my breaths coming sharp and ragged. I could still hear Lianna’s voice in my head, smug and triumphant, as she tore apart everything I had built. That traitorous bastard of a driver. That wretched, meddling Lianna. How? How had I been so careless? I threw my head back against the seat, laughing bitterly at my own stupidity. I had let myself slip, drunk on the small victories I had won. I had been so caught up in Edward’s attention shifting toward me, so satisfied with the way the elixir had started to take effect, that I had gotten comfortable. And comfort was a luxury I could never afford. The moment Lianna walked into that dining hall, I had known. The way Edward’s expression darkened when he heard it, it was all unraveling. She had found out. And it was all because of John. My teeth clenched. If I had ended h
Lianna: Edward’s chambers had always been grand, but now, with my things blending into his space, it felt different—warmer, more personal. The room still had its vastness, its dark mahogany furniture and high ceilings, but now there were little touches of me everywhere. A silk scarf draped over the vanity. A novel I’d left open on the bedside table. I let out a slow breath, my fingers trailing along the edge of the velvet chaise near the fireplace. A smile crept onto my lips as I turned to face Edward, who stood by the bed, watching me with an amused expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable—something that made my stomach tighten. His grin widened when I finally met his gaze. “So?” he murmured, stepping toward me. “What do you think?” I tilted my head, letting my eyes roam over him, the way his white shirt stretched over his broad chest, the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms,
Lianna: I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I glanced at myself in the mirror again, torn between laughing and crying. I had never dressed this way for anyone. Sure, I had worn a dress for Ethan once—on the night of our wedding, when I had slipped into the most sultry, elegant thing I could find, hoping he would actually see me for once. But no. That night, I had been left with the cold, empty space of a different room while he slept somewhere else. I shook my head, shoving that thought away. It wouldn’t help me now. It never had. Edward was different. He wanted this. Told me to wear something sexy for him, and damn it, I was going to. I barely had time to process it, but there I was, standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in a two-piece bikini. The soft fabric clung to my skin, hugging every curve in a way that made me feel—exposed. But I couldn’t back out now. No way. Edward’s words still rang in my ears. "Wear it for me, Lianna. I want to see you."
Lianna: I woke him with a kiss. It was gentle and slow, the kind that lingered on his lips like sunlight brushing the edge of dawn. His skin was warm beneath mine, soft and familiar. He stirred slowly, lashes fluttering like leaves catching the breeze before his eyes opened, that drowsy gray haze still clinging to them. “Is it time?” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with sleep. It was the kind of voice that made it feel like the world was still paused for us. I nodded, fingers brushing back the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Yeah. It's time.” He sighed, sitting up reluctantly. I could tell his body felt heavier than usual—grief had a weight all on its own. Still, he moved, slow but sure, like he owed it to himself to keep going. I slid off the bed to help him, but the rug betrayed me. My heel caught on the edge and I pitched forward with a sharp gasp. And just b
Lianna: The Palace was too quiet. That kind of quiet that sat thick on the skin like humidity before a storm, smothering and heavy, as if the very walls were mourning. The corridors were dimly lit, the sun long gone, and I could hear the distant creak of wooden beams settling overhead, slow and reluctant, like the house itself didn’t want to exist in this version of our reality. Edward hadn’t said a word in hours. He lay curled on his side, one arm slung carelessly over the edge of the bed, his knuckles pale against the white linen. His lashes fluttered occasionally like he was trapped somewhere between sleep and waking. Sometimes he’d blink open his eyes and just stare blankly at the ceiling, unmoving, unblinking, lost in a place I couldn’t reach. I sat behind him, cross-legged, one hand tracing slow circles along his back. His shirt had ridden up, exposing the bare slope of his waist. The skin there was cool, soft beneath my fingertips, marred only by the faint scar
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