Olivia’s POVThe morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, slashing across the dark walls of Damon’s apartment. I sat on the edge of the bed, my head resting in my hands as I tried to untangle the chaos in my mind. The events of the night before replayed like a broken record: the rain, the bar, Damon and Lucien fighting, and, of course, my father’s cold, cruel words. No matter how I looked at it, one thing was clear—I wasn’t wanted. Not by my father, not by the people of New Orleans, and maybe not even by the two men who called themselves my mates. A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I said, my voice hoarse.The door creaked open, and Damon stepped inside, holding a tray with a plate of eggs, toast, and a mug of coffee. It was such an unexpected sight that I almost laughed. Almost. “Didn’t take you for the breakfast-in-bed type,” I said, forcing my voice to sound lighter than I felt. He set the tray down on the small table near the window, his expr
Olivia’s POVIt had started raining on my way back—funny how I preferred to walk in the rain instead of summoning my wolf form to phase through the rain. The rain soaked through my clothes, the cold biting against my skin as I pushed open the door to Damon’s apartment. My hair clung to my face, droplets trickling down my neck . The familiar scent of pinewood and cedar hit me first, followed by something darker—tension. It hung heavy in the air like a storm waiting to break.I stepped inside, shaking off the rain, and froze.They were both there. Lucien leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his usually warm hazel eyes dark with unease. His shirt was torn at the sleeve, exposing fresh scratches on his forearm. Damon sat on the couch, casual as ever, one leg draped lazily over the other. His expression was unreadable, though the sharp glint in his silver eyes betrayed his amusement. “How cute,” Damon drawled, his gaze flickering between Lucien and me. “Your knight in shining armor act
Olivia’s POVThe faint light of dawn streamed through the window, brushing against my face. The soft chirping of birds was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. I stirred, stretching under the covers, but a weight in the room made my eyes snap open. Lucien stood at the edge of the bed, his hazel eyes locked on me with an intensity that sent a jolt of fear down my spine. His presence filled the room like a shadow, and for a brief, terrifying moment, memories of his wolf’s rage came rushing back—the growls, the snapping teeth, the way he’d lost control. I sat up quickly, the blanket clutched tightly in my fists. My heart pounded in my chest as I searched his face for a sign of danger. “Lucien,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What are you doing here again?”His eyes softened, and he took a step back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly, his voice rough like gravel.“Then why were you standing there?” I demanded, unable to
Damon’s POVThe storm outside mirrored my thoughts. Rain lashed against the glass of the penthouse, a relentless rhythm I couldn’t escape. I leaned against the wide window, staring at the city lights flickering like nervous fireflies. The silence between me and Daiki stretched, comfortable yet intrusive. He stood a few feet away, meticulously polishing a silver tea tray, though neither of us intended to drink.“You seem quieter than usual,” Daiki said, his voice calm, measured. “More brooding, if that’s even possible.”I didn’t reply, not immediately. Instead, I let the storm fill the space between us, drowning the thought I wasn’t ready to confront.“I take it this has something to do with her,” he added, his tone light but knowing.Her. Olivia. The bond. My chest tightened at the mention of it.“You’re wrong,” I muttered. My voice sounded distant, even to me. “The mate bond means nothing. I didn’t ask for it besides she’s with her ex-husband turned mate.” Daiki chuckled softly, the
Lucien’s POVThe air in my bedroom was suffocating, heavy with a tension I couldn’t shake. Every breath I took felt shallow, my chest constricting as though the walls themselves were closing in on me. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, clawing at the edges of my sanity.“She’s here,” it whispered, dark and demanding. “So close. Let me see her.”I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, digging my claws into my palms to keep them from fully extending. I had promised myself I’d control this for Olivia’s sake. But every second she was near, my resolve frayed a little more.I couldn’t stay here. Not like this.Before I realized it, I was moving, my body acting on autopilot. The bathroom was my sanctuary—a small space where I could breathe, where I could drown the beast’s voice in the sound of running water. My footsteps were heavy as I crossed the room and pushed the door open, not bothering to flip on the light. The bathroom was dimly lit by a silver of moonlight filtering thro
Lucien’s POVHer lips were fire, igniting parts of me I had long buried beneath layers of guilt and restraint. The world around us ceased to exist as her warmth consumed me. I deepened the kiss, unable to resist the pull, my hand tightening on her waist, the other sliding into her damp hair.Every inch of me wanted her. Needed her.My wolf stirred, no longer raging but humming in satisfaction, urging me closer to her, to claim her fully. The rational part of my mind—the one that kept me tethered to control—was slipping away. “Claim her,” my wolf whispered, almost tenderly now. “She’s ours again. Stop denying it.”But the whisper became a snarl as I pulled away, breaking the kiss abruptly, gasping for air. I placed a shaky hand on her shoulder to steady myself, though I knew it was more to create a barrier between us. “Lucien,” she breathed, her voice laced with confusion and longing.I stepped back, the distance feeling like a knife to my chest. Her eyes searched mine, pleading, que
Lucien’s POVThe voice cracked through my dream like a whip, yanking me out of the warmth and throwing me into the cold, cruel grip of reality. My eyes flew open, my breath heavy and erratic, my body aching with frustration and longing. I sat up with a start, only to find Nana standing at the edge of my bed, her brow furrowed and arms crossed. That was all a dream. No!!! Why would Nana walk in and destroy such a beautiful moment.“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.I blinked, still caught between the dream and reality. “What do you mean, what am I doing?” I growled, running a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. “You were moaning,” she said bluntly, her tone making it clear she wasn’t going to let it slide. “Loudly. In your sleep. That’s… not something I’ve ever heard from you before.”I froze, her words slicing through me like a dagger. My jaw clenched as I tried to piece together what had just happened. The dream. Her. Olivia. My wolf stirred restlessly,
Alpha Aaron’s POVThe room was thick with the scent of cigars and bourbon, a testament to the leisurely decadence of the Aristocrats seated around the polished oak table. These men were my equals in rank, but few could match my influence. I leaned back in my chair, drumming my fingers against the glass in my hand as the conversation veered toward business matters.“The northern packs are requesting additional territory near the trade routes,” Lord Ashworth began, his voice heavy with age but sharp as a blade. “They argue that the current borders are stifling their ability to export resources.”“They argue too much,” I said flatly, cutting through his words. “The northern packs are always demanding more, yet they contribute the least. Why should we hand over prime territory to a group that can’t even defend it?”Murmurs of argument rippled around the table. It was good to know some of these fools could still recognize strength when they saw it.“We could consider a conditional agreemen
ALARIC’S POVI lingered in the shadows across from Lucien’s estate, the crisp night air biting at my skin. My breath fogged in front of me, curling upward like smoke as I watched her—Olivia—slip out the front door. She moved with that infuriating grace, her dark hair swaying with each step, oblivious to the eyes tracking her every motion. For months, I’d studied her, memorized her routines, her little quirks. The way she tilted her head when she laughed, the way her lips parted when she sighed. She belonged to my brother, Damien, and that gnawed at me like a splinter under my nail. I didn’t need her the way he did. No, this was want—raw, jagged, and relentless.The streetlamp flickered above her as she turned down the path, her boots scuffing against the gravel. She wasn’t driving tonight, which threw me off. I’d expected the hum of her engine, the excuse to trail her from a distance in my car. Instead, she walked, hands stuffed in her pockets, her figure shrinking as she moved towar
NATALIE’S POVI slumped against the cold stone wall, my wrists raw under the iron cuffs, the heavy chains clinking as I shifted. The air in the chamber stank of damp earth and rust, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows across the floor. My legs ached, bound at the ankles, the metal biting into my skin, and my body sagged, too weak to stand. Years—decades, maybe—had bled away in this pit, hidden deep in New Orleans, my strength siphoned, my life a fading ember. The cult had me, Vladimir’s brood, the Order of Selene, and they’d wrung me dry, my rare Thresh power feeding their goddess, keeping her alive while I withered.I tilted my head back, my matted hair sticking to my sweat-slicked neck, and stared at the ceiling, its cracks a map of my prison. I’d been the first alpha of the Thresh pack—female, fierce, a whisper among the nine aristocrat families. We were quiet, low-key, our wealth and influence tucked behind shadows, but our power was unmatched, a gift passed through o
ARCHIMEDES’ POVI sat at the edge of my desk, the evening shadows stretching long across the study, the flicker of the oil lamp casting a warm glow over the cluttered maps and journals. My fingers traced the rim of the whiskey glass, the amber liquid untouched, my mind too tangled to drink. A crumpled note lay beside it, delivered an hour ago by one of my scouts—Damien Fallenstar had stormed into Lucien’s mansion that morning, stayed till dusk, his face carved with urgency. They didn’t know why, couldn’t guess what dragged him there, but I felt it, a ripple in the web I’d spun many years ago, tugging at threads I thought I’d buried.I leaned back, the leather chair creaking under my weight, my graying hair catching the light as I rubbed my temples. Lucien—my son, not by blood but by bond—hadn’t crossed my path in too long, his life a storm I’d only glimpsed through whispers. Damien showing up there, unannounced, frantic—it gnawed at me, a puzzle I couldn’t leave unsolved. I knew Dam
OLIVIA’S POV I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, my arms crossed, watching Dad sip his water, his gray eyes softer than I’d seen in years. The afternoon light spilled through the window, dusting his salt-and-pepper hair with gold, and my chest warmed, a knot unraveling. We’d talked for hours—really talked—about Mom, about Claire, about the mess between us. He’d kicked Claire out, her affairs with Vladimir and half the council finally snapping his patience. More than that, he’d been hunting Mom all this time, years before I’d demanded it, chasing her shadow since the night she vanished from their bed. Relief washed through me, sharp and sweet—he hadn’t forgotten her, hadn’t stopped caring, despite the hate I’d thought he aimed at me. It wasn’t hate, he’d said, his voice cracking—it was her face in mine, her laugh in my laugh, tearing him open every time he looked at me. He’d thought she’d abandoned us, but now he saw it—something bigger, something hidden, had stolen her away. We’
DAMIEN’S POV I slumped onto the rooftop floor beside Lucien, my back against the railing, the cold concrete biting through my suit. The champagne glass dangled in my hand, half-empty, and I stared at it, the bubbles fizzing like the mess in my head. Lucien sprawled next to me, his shirt unbuttoned joggers wrinkles, looking just as wrecked. We’d spilled it all—me begging him to take Olivia, him shoving her back at me—and now we sat, two alphas stumped, no clue how to dodge the heartbreak we’d dump on her if we both bailed.“Refill,” I muttered, tipping my glass toward the bottle between us.Lucien snorted, grabbing it, sloshing more into his own glass first. “You’re a lightweight, Fallenstar. Already slurring?”“Fuck off,” I shot back, smirking as he poured mine, the liquid splashing over the rim. “You’re the one swaying.”He grinned, sloppy and wide, and took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the hell do we do, man? Can’t both ditch her—she’d be a damn joke. L
LUCIEN’S POV I stood at the kitchen counter, the early morning light spilling through the window, glinting off the coffee mug in my hand. The house was quiet, too quiet, the kind of stillness that pressed against my chest. Olivia was upstairs with her father, Alpha Aaron—had been since he showed up yesterday, his face carved with grief I knew too well. I’d caught their voices late last night, soft and strained, threading through walls. It warmed me, seeing her with him, the rift between them softening after years of jagged edges over Natalie’s disappearance. I’d known her ache for her mother since our marriage—three years of whispered hopes she’d let slip in the dark, her greatest wish a ghost I’d chased for her in secret. Every lead I’d followed—old pack trails, human towns, whispered rumors—crumbled to nothing, a void I couldn’t fill. I’d stopped years ago, convinced Natalie was dead, but I’d never told her, couldn’t bear to snuff out that flicker in her eyes.I sipped the coffee,
DAMIEN’S POVI gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as the engine purred beneath me, the road stretching toward the burial ground. The black suit clung to me, sharp and tailored, the fabric cool against my skin despite the heat rising in my chest. My hair fell forward, one strand brushing my eye, and I left it there, a shield against the world I was about to face. Daiki’s voice rang in my ears from earlier, his broad hand on my shoulder, his tone urgent. “You don’t have to go, Master Damien. Pay your respects quiet—here, at home. They’ll tear you apart out there.”I’d shrugged him off, my jaw tight, and climbed into the car anyway. The Hales deserved more than silence. Thomas had dragged me from the woods at sixteen, blood-soaked and half-dead, my family’s slaughter still wet on my hands. Elena had stitched my wounds, fed me, their home a refuge when the packs turned their backs. I owed them this, even if it meant facing the fire. The clearing came into view, a somber c
AALPHA AARON’S POVI slumped in the worn leather chair of my study, the late afternoon sun bleeding through the cracked blinds, casting jagged stripes across the cluttered desk. Papers sprawled before me—maps marked with red Xs, scribbled notes, dead-end leads—all nine months of chasing shadows for Natalie. My fingers curled around the glass of bourbon, the amber liquid trembling as I lifted it to my lips, the burn a fleeting distraction from the ache gnawing at my chest. Olivia’s words echoed, sharp and unyielding: Find Mom, or we’re done. She didn’t know I’d been searching long before she demanded it, years stretching back to that night when my world splintered.The memory clawed its way up, vivid and cruel. Natalie and I had tucked Olivia into bed, her small frame curled under the quilt, her breaths evening out as I finished the last page of her favorite story—The Wolf and the Star. Natalie’s voice had softened the tale, her hand brushing Olivia’s hair, a quiet smile on her lips.
OLIVIA’S POVI sat on the edge of the bed, my legs tucked beneath me, watching Lucien’s chest rise and fall in shallow, uneven breaths. The late afternoon sun slanted through the curtains, painting his face in soft gold, the scratch marks I’d left on his cheek still stark against his pale skin. He slept now, his body limp, drained from the curse that had seized him hours ago. Zypher had roared through him, pinning me to the wall, his hands tight around my throat—not him, not really, just the beast Archimedes had forced into him. I’d clawed him back, my nails drawing blood, and he’d crumpled, the violence fading as he sank into this numb, paralyzed state. I pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around his shoulders, my fingers brushing his damp hair.I leaned down, pressing my lips to his forehead, the warmth of his skin grounding me. “You’re always in my heart,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, knowing he couldn’t hear. “This love—it’s not dying, not ever.” My chest tightened,