The silence in the packhouse was heavy, laden with the weight of Vicky's absence. Every howl of leaves, every howl of the wind, sounded to echo her name, a phantom pain in Jessica's heart. The hunt party, dispatched with hopeless haste, had returned empty-handed, their faces etched with the same despair that gripped Jessica. They had returned with nothing but evidence that Vicky was really gone, taken by the Moon Shadow pack. The agonizing details of what Vicky would endure, the cruel torture the Moon Shadow pack was notorious for, replayed endlessly in Jessica's mind. A visceral rage churned within her, a burning desire to claw back her friend from the clutches of those savage wolves. It was a rage directed at Mateo, a rumored curse on his neglectfulness, his naivety! But as the days bled into weeks, her wrathfulness began to fade, replaced by an eating pang of helplessness. Mateo's guilt was not to be missed, his guilt a heavy cloak he carried with a stoic determination, quietly s
CHAPTER 70 Jessica’s mind was racing, trying to grapple with the enormity of the treason. Everything she had known, everything she had believed, had been erected on falsehoods. Who could she trust? Who could she turn to? "We need to find Vicky." She said, her voice strained as she fought to recapture control of her feelings. "Draven. He will not let her go. He needs her." Mateo replied. The truth hit Jessica like a tidal surge, washing over her with the force of a hurricane. Vicky, her friend, her only friend, had become a pawn in Draven's unfaithful games. Her mind reeled in confusionAs she sat across from Mateo, the shadow of treason hanging over them, Jessica knew that this was just the beginning. They had stumbled upon a power struggle far lesser than they could ever have imagined. They were now trapped in a web of falsehoods and dishonesty, forced to fight for their lives, their freedom, and for the soul of their pack. Mateo's words struck Jessica like a physical blow. She
The world swam back into focus but just a vague and chaotic shade of colors and sounds. Jessica Lyon blinked, her eyelids heavy and sluggish, the moping effects of the chloroform still adhering to her senses like a thick fog. Her head throbbed, each movement like a hammer blow against her skull. A harsh, metallic sound pierced the dullness, followed by the metrical grumble of a machine. She opened her eyes completely, the world snapping into sharper focus. The back of a truck with the floor converted into a new bed greeted her. Roughly hewn planks were kept under her body and the pungent scent of pinewood and dust filled her nostrils. She was lying on a pile of discarded robes too and her limbs paining with the strange sensation of being bound. The confined space was filled with three men, their faces cast in the sickly and dim gleam of the moon above. Their eyes were hard and predatory and their expressions etched with a nipping mixture of triumph and cruelty. Jessica's eyes swept
The air crackled with the urgency of their return. ALPHA Draven navigated the twists and turns of their path with the grace of an Alpha wolf. Beside him, his Beta, Asher moved with a quiet energy, his keen eyes constantly surveying the landscape, his hand resting reassuringly on the bow of his dagger, a silent pledge of protection. Bringing up the reverse, Sebastian, a man etched with the lines of wisdom and experience, walked with the stoic quality of a leader, a captain of the army and his eyes fixed on the distant figure of their packhouse, a lamp of hope in the heart of the returning men. Draven's heart pounded a grim meter against his cribs, each beat echoing the rising drift of dread that had been steadily erecting since Mateo's message reached him.Mateo had spoken of treason, of a trap, of Jessica being taken, but the details had been shrouded in a nipping vagueness. "Mateo said we had to hurry." Asher stated, his voice laced with concern. The news had arrived like a bolt fro
The Blood Moon pack, generally a vibrant shade of wolfish energy and fellowship, was cloaked in a silence so thick, it was nearly suffocating. The howling of wolves, generally a symphony of power and dominion, had been replaced by whispers and nervous talks. The fear that had gripped them the former night remained strong, fueled by the monstrous rage their Alpha, Draven had unleashed upon the woods. The night had been an agonizing ordeal for Draven. The memory of his brutal change and the tearing of his clothes and the insatiable thirst for blood that had consumed him were the memories that haunted him come the dawn. The pack house which was generally a place of comfort and warmth was now a scene of desolation. The massive oak door, once an evidence to the pack's strength was shattered splintered wood littering the entrance. It was a grim remainder of Draven's escape, his hopeless need to escape the confines of his own mind and the crushing weight of the curse the previous night. T
The weight of the dungeon walls pressed down on Jessica, a physical incarnation of the crushing despair that had settled in her soul. The air was thick with the reek of damp gravestone and decay, a constant reminder of their imprisonment. Each day bled into the coming, a constant cycle of privation and fear. The days were harsh, enduring, and endlessly long. The dungeon, a stark, cold cell sculpted into the bedrock of Alpha Landon's dungeons, held little more than bare and damp gravestone walls, a single, gravel water pail, and a straw- filled pallet for each of them to rest on. The only splinter of light that pierced through the dusk came from a small, barred window high up on the wall, slightly offering a regard of the world they had lost. Their only food came in the form of a single, stingy mess delivered once a day. Each day, a rough, untidy guard, his face hardened by times of violence and Jos stay in the dungeons. He would push a bowl of watery broth and a thin stale bread thr
The crisp air of early morning transferred a shiver down Landon's spine, a sensation he generally only felt when the wind whipped across the vast plains outside his home. But at that moment, the bite had a different flavour- a taste of fear, of query, of a growing apprehension that eroded at the edges of his palm. He had triumphed. The formidable and ruthless Alpha Draven was now a boxed beast. With Jessica, the one person he craved, locked in the deepest chambers of his dungeon, Draven's power had been crippled, his heart laid bare. Landon had achieved what sounded unconceivable just months ago, he'd conquered, he'd secured his position, he'd cemented his reign. He was Alpha, the undisputed leader of his pack, the protection of their land, and the personification of their fears and terror. Still, a seed of mistrustfulness had sprouted in the rich ground of his heart. It was a patient itch at the back of his mind, a troubling voice that refused to be silenced. He knew that the true
The air in the dungeon cell felt heavy, thick with the smell of damp gravestone. The only light came from a single fluttering bulb, casting long, dancing shadows on the rough hewn walls. Jessica huddled against the far wall, her chin resting on her knees. Beside her, Vicky, her generally shy smile replaced with a mouth of defiance, strained against the chains that bound her wrists. The previous days had been a blur of endless hunger, the eating emptiness in their tummies a constant companion. Each evening, the dungeon master, a hulking brute with a face like a hammered bobby pot, would shove a stingy bowl of watery gruel through the bars. The stingy mess wouldn't indeed come near to satisfying their hunger, leaving them weak and empty. But there was a flicker of hope in their despair, a lamp of kindness amid the darkness. Tricia it would seem had taken pity on them. Every day, she'd visit, her steps echoing through the cold corridors before a gentle knock sounded on their cell door.