The air in the Adam mansion grows denser by the second, tension electrifying the very fabric of the room as the conversation takes an unexpected turn. Seraphina stands tall, her frame resplendent by the lit sitting room. However, in the midst of this brightness, unseen shadows carve deep lines into her pale face, making her seem like a statue etched from darkness itself. The flicker of flames from the hearth dances in her cold eyes, but there is nothing warm in her gaze—only fury, deep and unbridled.Dr. Percy sits at the edge of the long, ornate couch, his usually composed and formidable demeanor cracking under the weight of the accusations. His silence, heavy and telling, fills the room like a dam ready to break. Chloe and Valentine, perched on either side of him by now, exchange uneasy glances, their faces twisted with a mix of confusion and dread. Maria, standing at the far end of the room, watches with bated breath, her brow furrowed in concern.Seraphina’s voice, sharp and accus
The oppressive silence suffocates the mansion like a shroud, thick with the tension of unspoken truths and past betrayals. The air crackles with the weight of everything unsaid, until finally, Dr. Percy rises from his seat. His movements are deliberate, heavy with regret, as he crosses the room toward Seraphina. Kneeling beside her, he looks up into her fiery eyes, his voice steady but thick with emotion."Sera," he begins—her heart pricks as she has missed him calling her that… he’s the only one who does—his voice low, vulnerable, "I owe you more than an apology. You deserved the truth back then. But I made choices... choices I thought were best for all of us. I didn’t know... I didn’t know about Talon, not until it was too late. But when I found out—when I knew what they’d done to you—I couldn’t just stand by. That’s why I risked everything to get you out of those dungeons, despite the pact I had made with Lucas Smith. I was bound by that agreement, but not enough to forsake you.”S
The inn buzzes with the usual rhythm of life: the clink of glasses, murmured conversations, and the steady hum of mundane existence. Yet, amidst the ordinary, Selena sits behind the bar, motionless, her eyes distant and clouded. She isn’t present; her mind is a tumultuous sea of questions and revelations, each wave more jarring than the last… torn in-between the dark abyss and the deep blue sea; not waving, but drowning in the dangerous murky pool of secrecy and misplaced identity. Her hands, pale and trembling, grip the counter as though holding on to the physical world, in a bid to be tethered back to sanity. The weight of everything—the lies, the secrets, the betrayal—presses against her chest, making it hard to breathe.The twilight sky bleeds violet and crimson hues, casting an eerie glow through the windows of the inn. The air inside is thick with tension, almost soporific, as though the weight of unspoken words and unresolved truths has made even the oxygen sluggish. Behind the
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
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
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
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
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,