Her telepathic prowess kicks in, and she instantaneously sees her friends in the woods lying in Alpha Wilson’s hand on the floor covered with dirt and dry leaves… only in a split second though.“You had sex with Alpha Wilson,” she blurts out even before she realizes it.Flummoxingly, Selena asks “Wait, how… how did you know?”“That’s the fucking privilege that comes with being a telepathic bitch, Bitch!” she chuckles, and both teenage girls laugh out loud mischievously. “C’mon babe, give me the deets…”“But I thought you’re omniscient.” Selena mocks her“Naaaah, my prowess ain’t got there yet.”******************************Everybody is born to lead, but not everyone can be a leader… However, anyone who wishes to be a leader must first learn to follow; a great follower makes for a greater leader. Proving to be authoritarian because you’ve got authority, or a totalitarian because you’ve got power, doesn’t make you a good leader, talk more of being a great one. Remember, that authority
Selena leaves Demika’s house, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily on her chest as she strides down the path toward the pack house. The sky is overcast, a low rumble of thunder in the distance hinting at the brewing storm—a reflection of the turmoil inside her. Her steps are purposeful, each one fueled by the anger and frustration that has been simmering since she found out about the attack on Demika.As she approaches the pack house, the grand structure looms before her, its imposing presence only heightening the tension that coils within her.Her mind races with thoughts of Demika—her best friend, almost killed because of a failure in the pack's security, or so she thought. The fact that an omega from the Aramanthian Pack had been able to infiltrate their territory without detection infuriates her. More than that, it terrifies her. If the pack can’t even protect its own, what hope do they have against their enemies? She knows she has to confront Wilson, the Alpha, and demand
Wilson’s eyes flash with anger, and in an instant, he closes the distance between them, his hand gripping her arm tightly. “Enough,” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not speak to me like that.”Selena’s breath catches in her throat, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. But she refuses to back down, refuses to let him intimidate her. “Let go of me, Wilson,” she demands, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.For a moment, it seems as though Wilson might actually hurt her, his grip tightening on her arm. But then, just as suddenly, he releases her, his expression unreadable. He takes a step back, his breathing heavy, as if trying to regain control.“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Selena,” Wilson says, his voice calmer now, though still laced with anger. “You have no idea what it takes to be an Alpha… to be the Alpha, to bear the weight of responsibility for this pack. I won’t have you questioning my leadership, little
The evening air hums with tension as the grand hall of the Pack House fills with a motley assembly of Clovis City’s most powerful. The gathering is a spectacle of power and intrigue, where alliances are as fragile as glass and secrets hang in the air like unspoken curses. The room is dominated by the presence of Alpha Wilson, his authority palpable, as the leaders of various packs, district heads, and even a few distinguished humans convene under his command.Selena together with the cowering Demika—gradually growing confident, especially with her new-found mojo, and a willful she-wolf by her side—strides into the hall, her heart pounding like a drumbeat. The weight of her purpose is heavy on her shoulders. She’s not here to cower in the presence of Alphas; she’s here to make sure her best friend gets the justice she deserves.Her eyes scan the room, noting the stern faces of the council members—22 Alphas in all—each with their own agendas hidden behind stoic expressions.At the far e
Without thinking, Selena steps forward. “This isn’t right,” she says, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You’re letting the real culprit go free.”A shocked silence falls over the room. All eyes are on Selena, but she doesn’t care. She’s past the point of caution.Wilson’s eyes narrow dangerously, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl. “Careful, Selena. You’re treading on dangerous ground.”Selena’s pulse quickens, but she stands her ground. “I’m not afraid of you, Wilson. You can’t silence the truth.”Wilson takes a step toward her, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t a game, and your accusations are baseless.”Selena’s hands clench into fists at her sides. “You know Charmaine is involved. You’re protecting her because of some twisted alliance, and it’s wrong.”The air in the room crackles with tension, and for a moment, it seems as if Wilson might lose control. But then, to Selena’s surprise, he takes a deep breath an
Selena’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions, but one thing is clear—she’s in way over her head. This isn’t just about Demika or Charmaine anymore. This is about her, about them, and the dangerous path they’re both treading.“Wilson…” she starts, but he cuts her off with another kiss, more urgent this time, as if he’s trying to drown out the doubts in her mind.She responds in kind, her hands tangling in his hair as she gives in to the emotions she’s been fighting for so long. This is madness, but it’s a madness that consumes her, that pulls her under until she’s drowning in it.When they break apart again, Wilson’s expression is fierce, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that makes her knees weak.“You belong to me, Selena,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re mine.”His words send a thrill through her, a heady mix of fear and exhilaration. She knows she should push him away, should fight the pull he has on her, but she can’t. She do
The execution ground is a somber place, hidden deep within the woods that encircle the Redbone pack’s territory. Ancient trees loom overhead, their twisted branches casting long shadows that dance on the ground like specters. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind that makes the skin prickle and the heart race. It is a place where blood has been spilled for centuries, where justice—or what passes for it in this brutal world—has been meted out without mercy.The council members gather in a semicircle around the clearing, their faces etched with a mix of solemnity and grim resolve. Alpha Wilson, the undisputed leader of the Redbone pack, stands at the center, his presence commanding and unyielding. His broad shoulders are draped in a cloak of dark fur, a symbol of his dominion, and his eyes, a piercing shade of greenish gold, scan the assembly with an intensity that brooks no challenge.Beside him stands Jason Wayde, his right-hand man and executioner. Jason is a formidable figure
Alpha Wilson raises his hand, the signal that the execution is to begin. The clearing falls silent, the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the wind. Jason steps forward, his eyes locked on the Omega, his blade gleaming in the dim light. The Omega does not flinch, does not beg for mercy. He stands tall, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his eyes fixed on Selena.“Retribution is a blade forged in the fires of justice, yet wielded by the hands of those with patience and precision. It is not the frenzied slash of revenge, but the calculated strike that waits in the shadows, allowing time to sharpen its edge. True retribution is not blind, but rather it sees with clarity the scales of wrongs and rights, balancing them with an even hand. It is a force that does not seek to merely satisfy the thirst for vengeance, but to restore the equilibrium that was disturbed. It knows that in the act of retribution, the lesson lies not only for the one who receives the blow but also for the o
The soft knock at the cottage door rouses Demika from the depths of her trance, her heart racing as she emerges from the haze of memories—memories not her own, yet as vivid and haunting as any she has ever known.Morning light seeps in, streaking the dim room with harsh lines that cut through the shadows, marking the end of her night of revelation. She blinks at the sunlight with a slight start, realizing, only now, that she has been suspended in the remnants of the past for hours. Selena’s voice reaches her ears, carrying both worry and curiosity."Demi… Demika," Selena says, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She stops, eyes widening as she takes in her friend, studying her with a blend of disbelief and awe. “You look... different.”A faint smirk tugs at the corner of Demika’s lips. “I am different,” she says quietly, her voice carrying an edge of something ancient, something foreign. “You have no idea.”Selena glances over her shoulder as Chloe enters, her expression one of
The witching hour wraps Clovis City in a cloak of shadows, its darkness laced with whispers of secrets and spells unspoken. Within the flickering light of her grandmother’s old cottage, Demika sits, her eyes gleaming with the fervor of a newfound obsession. Power—a current now thrumming through her veins like molten metal—spills over her senses, intoxicating, consuming. She yearns to explore its limits, to delve deeper into the legacy left in her blood, one that has made her the most formidable in her lineage. Tonight, her thirst for mastery borders on ravenous; no knowledge, no spell, no secret can escape her.But first, she indulges in a bit of mischief. Her curiosity drifts to Chloe, her love interest, and she murmurs an incantation under her breath, fingers tracing arcane symbols in the air. She plunges herself into the past, her spirit slicing through the veil of time, her consciousness landing centuries ago.She arrives to find a silver-haired, pint-sized vampire toddling unstea
The days bleed into one another in a dim cadence of restless hours and unbroken silence, with Demika hidden away in the secluded corners of Minama’s cottage. The air within these walls is thick, a heavy shroud of mourning still tinged with Granny Minama’s spirit, even though her presence now lingers as only shadows and echoes.Demika clings to her solitude like a lifeline, guarding it fiercely within the shadows of Granny Minama’s cottage. This sanctuary, thick with ancestral whispers and cloaked in twilight, is her one remaining tether to the world before her transformation.Her days bleed into nightfall, melting into each other as she consumes herself with a single focus: to probe the surge of power that crashed into her like a tempest the night her grandmother’s body was lowered into the earth. This power is unlike anything she has ever felt—ancient, electric, and dangerous, thrumming beneath her skin like a pulse with its own fierce will.By the muted glow of candlelight, Demika l
Loneliness is a silent architect, building castles of solitude in the minds of those who wander without tether. Identity is a dance of masks, but in crisis, the mask slips, revealing not clarity but a fog, as if one were peering through glass, shattered and smeared. However, to lose oneself is not to wander; it is to walk through a foreclosure of one’s own soul, each familiar landmark of self closing its doors with a hollow thud. But solitude is the truest mirror, a place where whispers echo louder than the clamors of a crowd, where silence is the only faithful companion. In the heart’s quiet corridors, the comfort of isolation mingles with a cold draft of longing, one that no borrowed company can fill. Like a shadow dancing in one’s periphery, a fractured sense of belonging haunts the fringes of an empty room. And yet, perhaps loneliness is the sculptor, and solitude the chisel, whittling away the superfluous to reveal the form beneath. Some seek company to escape it; others confro
The night drapes itself in a humid cloak, thick and cloying, clinging to every surface and casting a fremescent tension that prickles the skin as Jason waits in the dim warmth of his apartment. After the long, solemn hours of Granny Minama's funeral, he can still feel the weight of Wilson’s directive pressing upon him, a derisive whisper urging him to slip the truth from Gabrielle without alerting her to his intent. The assignment is deceptively simple, yet Jason knows the fine line he walks: one misstep, one hint of calculation, and her walls will go up.She arrives just past midnight, her silhouette framed by the streetlight outside before stepping into the flickering glow of his candlelit living room. Shadows dance along cluttered shelves, over worn furniture, and around the dark corners of the room, painting an almost ominous scene. Jason greets her with a kiss, his hand grazing her cheek as their eyes meet, hers soft and trusting, unknowing of his hidden purpose.In that moment,
The day of the funeral arrives like a storm, heavy and oppressive. The city gathers to mourn Granny Minama, but underneath the sorrow, there’s an undercurrent of tension that none can deny.The heavy pall of dusk hangs over Clovis City like a suffocating shroud, the air thick with grief and expectation. The first-class cemetery of Clovis, a sacred ground reserved for the most venerated dead, stretches out in eerie silence. An endless sea of black fills the space—from the mourners’ attire to the casket, a sleek, dark vessel that houses the lifeless body of Granny Minama, a revered elder, and council member. Her death has cast a shadow over the city, the kind that seeps into the bones of every person present.The council members of Clovis City gather, their ranks swollen with power and dominance, the Alphas of every pack standing side by side, their rivalry momentarily buried in a shared mourning. Wilson Smith, Alpha of Alphas, stands near the center of the procession, his sharp eyes sc
In Demika’s apartment, Selena stares out the window, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and heartache. She hasn’t spoken to Wilson in days, and every moment of silence between them feels like a blade slicing deeper into her. The truth about Lucas Smith still burns in her veins like venom, poisoning her thoughts. Her love for Wilson remains—undeniable, unyielding—but how can she reconcile that with the knowledge that his father is the reason her own father perished in such a gruesome, horrific manner?She had imagined Talon Takoda’s death a thousand times in her mind since the revelation. The blood, the pain, the betrayal. And now, every time she closes her eyes, it’s all she can see."You need to rest, Lena," Gabrielle’s voice comes from behind her. Her sister—though not by blood—sits on the edge of Demika’s bed, offering a weak smile of comfort. "You’ve been running yourself ragged. Demika will understand if you take a break."Selena shakes her head. "I can’t rest. Not while every
Wilson paces the length of his study, every creak of the wooden floor mirroring the slow boil of anger and frustration under his skin. It's been over a week since he last saw Selena, and the void her absence has carved in his heart festers like an open wound. The bond they share—ancient, eternal—crackles like a chain stretched too tight, pulling him toward her, but she remains just out of reach. Every attempt to contact her has been met with silence. He tells himself it’s because she’s mourning with Demika over Granny Minama’s death, but he knows it’s more than that.The night air carries an ominous chill through the streets of Clovis City, as the faint howl of a distant wind echoes like a warning. For over a week now, Wilson's heart has been an abyss of torment. The silence between them claws at his soul like a festering wound. He stands at his office window in the Pack House, staring into the mist that rolls across the hills. A crescent moon looms overhead, casting an eerie glow upo
The early night moon hangs confidently in the dusky sky, a lone range satellite breaching a balance between the sinister dark horizon and a forlorn hope. The chaotic air clings to Selena’s skin as she steps out of the dimly lit inn, her heart heavy with a kaleidoscope of emotions she can scarcely untangle—her body drained but her mind reeling with an inescapable ache. Estranged. That’s what she feels now—a ghost haunting a family that isn’t hers by blood.The streets are buzzing, but the cacophony of life feels distant, muted under the weight of her turbulent thoughts. Her breath escapes in shallow, uneasy bursts as she recalls the words Mrs. Robinson had spoken to her the previous day. "You might not be my blood, but you are still my little girl, Selena. No sinister revelation will ever change that." The words had soothed her for a fleeting moment, but now, standing on the threshold between the inn’s warmth and the creeping dusk, that comfort fades into oblivion.Mrs. Robinson. Mr. R