(Damien’s POV – Past Reflections)The night after the ritual, I didn’t sleep.Couldn’t.Even with Sofia stabilized—her heart no longer at war with itself—I didn’t feel peace.Because I had offered another woman my name. My bond.Even if it was a lie.Even if I’d done it for the right reasons.I’d still crossed a line I never believed I would.And I felt it like a wound in my chest.So I sat alone on the balcony of an old, forgotten wing of the estate—far from her. Far from anyone. Just the moon and me.And my memories.The ones I swore I’d buried.But pain has a way of digging up bones, especially when you realize—your curse didn’t start with her.It started with me.With my name.With Blackwood.---My family wasn’t always powerful.We weren’t always rulers, Alphas of vast territories or wolves feared across continents.We were, once, a small bloodline—touched by a gift we didn’t understand.The first Blackwood, Elias, was said to be born with golden eyes that glowed under moonlight.
(Damien’s POV – Past Mates, Unforgiven Memories)The curse didn’t begin with Sofia.She was just the first I refused to let go.But before her—There were others.And sometimes, when the world is too still, when my soul is too loud, their names crawl out from the cracks in my mind.Three names.Three scars.Each one carved into the walls of my heart.Each one a grave I never buried deep enough.---Liora.The first.I was eighteen. Still barely learning what it meant to lead, still finding my wolf, still believing the Blackwood curse was a lie whispered by cowards who didn’t know how to love hard enough.She was a scholar’s daughter.Quick-witted. Sharp-tongued.She challenged me at every turn. She was the first to look me in the eye and say:"You're going to be dangerous someday. I want to see it."We were bound by a youthful rush. Not fated. Not chosen by the moon. But something felt real. Enough that I trusted it.We danced between duties and stolen glances. I kissed her beneath th
(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place
Sofia’s POV I swear, people needed a new hobby. As I walked out of my last cooking class for the day, my phone buzzed with a notification. I barely glanced at it, expecting another pointless email or a TikTok update. But then I saw the message preview, and my eyes narrowed. "Hey girl, I thought you should know your boyfriend has been messing around." I stopped mid-step, rolling my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. Seriously? This again? This was the third random message like this in the past month. Different numbers, same tired accusation. I sighed and shook my head. Some people just couldn’t stand seeing a happy couple. I wasn’t stupid—I knew Jake. He wasn’t the type to cheat. We spent almost every day together, and when we weren’t together, we were texting, calling, FaceTiming. If he was cheating, he had to be the most efficient multitasker on the planet. I deleted the message without replying and stuffed my phone into my bag. Some people were so miserable they just wanted to
I stopped dead in my tracks. What the... My heart pounded against my ribs. The air around me suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. I didn’t even think...I just started walking faster, my brain scrambling for an explanation that made sense. Was this some sick prank? Some stalker? Or... No. I wasn’t going to let some random text scare me. I squared my shoulders, shoved my phone into my pocket, and quickened my pace toward my apartment. But the uneasy feeling in my stomach? That wasn’t going anywhere. By the time I reached my building, my hands were clammy. I took the stairs two at a time, gripping my keys so tight my knuckles turned white. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, already ready to shake off the nerves. But then I saw them. A pair of sneakers. Jake’s sneakers. Relief hit me like a wave, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “You got me worried, baby, so you’re...” I stopped mid-sentence. Because right next to Jake’s sneakers, on my freaking
Bad decisions always start with whiskey. And right now? I was making the worst one of my life. The world around me blurred at the edges, but the fire in my chest? That was crystal clear. Revenge wasn’t just an option—it was necessary. Jake was not about to walk away from this like nothing happened. Not after what he did. And that was when it hit me. Damien Blackwood. Rich. Dangerous. Completely obsessed with me. I laughed to myself, the sound bitter. He had wanted me for years. I knew it. He knew it. And now? I was going to use it. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts. Found his name. Hit call. He picked up before the first ring even finished. “Sofia.” His voice was smooth, cool, like he had been expecting this. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.” I swirled the whiskey in my glass. “I have a proposition for you.” A pause. Then, a low chuckle. “Now you have my attention.” “I need to see you.” Another pause, heavier
Damien’s eyes flicked down to the freshly signed contract, then back to me. His smirk? Gone. His usual cool, unreadable expression? Nowhere to be found. What was left? Obsession. Raw, unfiltered, dangerous obsession. He lifted the contract, scanned my signature, and then, in one slow, deliberate movement, set it down on the table. His fingers tapped against the paper—once, twice—before he leaned forward, eyes locked onto mine. "Now," he said, voice dropping into something dark and undeniably possessive, "seal it." I frowned. "What?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming. Like he was amused. Like he had been waiting for this moment. "A contract isn't official until it's sealed, Sofia." His voice was all silk and sin. "So kiss me." I blinked. "Excuse me?" His jaw tightened. "Kiss me," he repeated. "Or do you need me to spell it out for you?" Oh. Oh, this man was not playing. I should have hesitated. Should have thought about what I was doing. But the way he was looking a
“Stop,” i whispered, but my body betrayed me, leaning infinitesimally closer to his. “I don’t think you want me to stop,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “In fact, I think you want me to do the exact opposite.” my knees felt weak. This is wrong. This is part of the plan. But my body wasn’t listening to my mind anymore. i felt his hand trail down my arm, his fingers intertwining with mine. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me, and I knew I was losing control. “Damien,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, Sofia?” His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through her. “This... this isn’t what we agreed on.” “Maybe not,” he admitted, his free hand cupping her cheek. “But tell me you don’t feel this.” I couldn't. Because I actually did. The pull between them was magnetic, undeniable. my lips parted with a silent invitation, and he didn’t hesitate. His mouth captured mine in a searing kiss that sent my world spinning. His lips were firm yet soft
(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place
(Damien’s POV – Past Mates, Unforgiven Memories)The curse didn’t begin with Sofia.She was just the first I refused to let go.But before her—There were others.And sometimes, when the world is too still, when my soul is too loud, their names crawl out from the cracks in my mind.Three names.Three scars.Each one carved into the walls of my heart.Each one a grave I never buried deep enough.---Liora.The first.I was eighteen. Still barely learning what it meant to lead, still finding my wolf, still believing the Blackwood curse was a lie whispered by cowards who didn’t know how to love hard enough.She was a scholar’s daughter.Quick-witted. Sharp-tongued.She challenged me at every turn. She was the first to look me in the eye and say:"You're going to be dangerous someday. I want to see it."We were bound by a youthful rush. Not fated. Not chosen by the moon. But something felt real. Enough that I trusted it.We danced between duties and stolen glances. I kissed her beneath th
(Damien’s POV – Past Reflections)The night after the ritual, I didn’t sleep.Couldn’t.Even with Sofia stabilized—her heart no longer at war with itself—I didn’t feel peace.Because I had offered another woman my name. My bond.Even if it was a lie.Even if I’d done it for the right reasons.I’d still crossed a line I never believed I would.And I felt it like a wound in my chest.So I sat alone on the balcony of an old, forgotten wing of the estate—far from her. Far from anyone. Just the moon and me.And my memories.The ones I swore I’d buried.But pain has a way of digging up bones, especially when you realize—your curse didn’t start with her.It started with me.With my name.With Blackwood.---My family wasn’t always powerful.We weren’t always rulers, Alphas of vast territories or wolves feared across continents.We were, once, a small bloodline—touched by a gift we didn’t understand.The first Blackwood, Elias, was said to be born with golden eyes that glowed under moonlight.
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The room was too quiet.Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind that lulls you into sleep.This silence was cruel. Heavy. Mocking.Sofia’s body lay motionless in my arms, her head tucked beneath my chin, skin growing colder by the minute. The foam at her lips had stopped, but so had the color in her cheeks.She was slipping.And I was out of time.I cradled her closer, burying my face in her hair.“You said you’d never leave me,” I whispered, my voice cracking at the edges. “So don’t do this. Don’t make me live in a world where I can’t hear you laugh again. Don’t make me…”I broke.The words dissolved into silence.Because no vow. No bite. No rage could undo what fate had done.Unless I did the one thing I swore I’d never do.Unless I gave in.---The wind shifted again.And just like before, the shadows in the room stretched, curled, and thickened.A soft hum began to vibrate in the air, low and ancient.Then, she appeared.Saria.Sofia’s mother. The spirit w
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The sound came first.A wet, choking gasp.Followed by a gurgle—unnatural and terrifying.My heart stopped.I was in the hallway, reading through a worn scroll when I heard it. At first, I thought I imagined it.But then came the second sound.A soft thud.Like someone struggling.Like someone dying.I ran.The door to the bedroom burst open under my hand.And there she was.Sofia.My Luna.Convulsing.Her body was seizing, her fingers curled tight into the sheets, and her mouth—her mouth was foaming, white and thick, choking her with every breath.“No—no, no—Sofia!”I dropped everything and rushed to the bed, grabbing her shoulders, trying to steady her.Her eyes fluttered open, wide, glassy.Empty.“Sofia—breathe, baby. Just breathe—stay with me!”She didn’t respond.Only gurgled again, thick saliva spilling from her lips. Her back arched violently.“Jaxon!! Ethan!!” I screamed so loud it shook the room. “Get in here now!”The door slammed open.“Goddess
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)She didn’t wake up.I waited. Hours.Held her hand, pressed kisses to her knuckles, whispered every memory we ever made into her ear like they were spells that might pull her back.She didn’t even twitch.Not even when I said the words she always leaned into:“Mine. You’re mine, Sofia. Come back to me.”But her chest only rose and fell in that same shallow rhythm, her pulse barely flickering beneath my fingers.She was here. Her body, warm. Alive.But her spirit—buried somewhere deep, unreachable.I refused to accept it.I stood up slowly, brushing her hair back from her face. “You made me promise not to leave you,” I whispered. “I didn’t. I came back. I’m here now. And I’m not losing you. Not again.”I pressed my forehead to hers. My voice cracked.“You hear me? I’m going to fix this. Even if I have to burn through time itself.”---The room darkened as I stepped into the hallway, my pack silent outside the door. They looked up, their eyes lined with the
(Sofia’s POV – Dreamworld / Final Memory)The snow had stopped falling.But the cold—**the kind that settles beneath the skin, into the soul—**remained.I stood in the great hall alone.No laughter.No footsteps.No fire burning in the hearth.Just the echo of a home that had already made up its mind to forget me.The tapestries that once told the story of our bloodline hung limp and grey. The same colors I’d worn during my rites. The same colors they had wrapped around me like a gift, pretending it was honor—when all it had ever been was a burial cloth.---At dawn, I woke to a whisper.Orin.He stood at the edge of my bed, already dressed in riding leathers. His hair was tousled, eyes dim with something that looked too close to guilt.“They’re leaving,” he said quietly. “Now.”I sat up. “And you?”He didn’t answer right away.“I fought them on it,” he said. “Tried to tell them it wasn’t right. But…” He looked away. “Mother says there’s no time.”There was always time.They just didn
(Sofia’s POV – Dreamworld / Past Memory)The snow came early that year.It blanketed the mountaintop estate in a white hush that made the world feel quiet—too quiet. The gardens where Mira once played were still. The air held a cold that slipped into your bones and made you forget what warmth ever felt like.I stood beneath the veranda wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, watching smoke curl from the eastern tower.It was the beginning of the end.I could feel it.The sickness had started to spread beyond whispers. It came with the cold, they said. It moved through the blood, through touch. And no one knew what it truly was—only that it took fast and left slower.But that wasn’t the worst part.The worst part was that my mother had changed.Her once-smooth brow was creased with something deeper than worry. Her silver hair had dulled, her presence felt brittle. Like a candle burning at both ends.She used to walk the halls with silent command, her word absolute. Now she paced. Fussed. Watched
(Sofia’s POV – Dreamworld / Past Memory)The first thing I noticed was the scent.Freshly crushed lavender beneath my bare feet. The air was heavy with spring—honeysuckle, warmed earth, the distant salt of sea wind.I stood on grass that hadn’t felt my touch in years.Not since I was a girl.Not since they were alive.Before war. Before abandonment. Before I learned what it meant to be alone.The house loomed ahead—not the penthouse, not Damien’s cold marble and glass, but home. The ancestral estate of my bloodline, all soft limestone and curling ivy and balconies framed with carved wolf insignias.Sunlight caught on the stained-glass windows like gold dancing over water.Too perfect.Too whole.This place was gone. Burned. Buried. Yet here it stood, untouched. And I…I was young again.I looked down at my hands—small, unscarred. My nails neatly trimmed, the white robe of ceremony brushing my ankles.No blood. No bruises.Just innocence.But something inside me—the woman I am now—knew