DAMIEN’S POV I leaned against the wall in Daiki’s study, my arms crossed tight, the late afternoon sun spilling through the tall windows of Blackbeard Pack’s keep, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow. The air smelled of polished wood and faint traces of antiseptic, a reminder of Daiki’s recent brush with death. He stood across from me, his frame solid again, his dark hair swept back, his shirt stretched over muscles that had finally knit whole. No more bandages, no more pallor, he moved with the easy grace of an alpha restored, his boots scuffing the floor as he paced, his voice steady as he recounted the latest patrol routes.“Fit as ever,” he said, his grin flashing, his hands flexing as if testing their strength. “I’m healed and ready to hunt Alaric down myself if you’d let me.”I nodded, my lips twitching into a half-smile, my eyes tracking him. “Good to see. You had us worried, I thought we’d lost you to that bastard’s ambush.”He laughed, short and rough, his head shaking. “
OLIVIA’S POV I sat at the kitchen table, my fork scraping against the plate, the pancakes soft and warm, syrup pooling beneath them. The morning sun streamed through the windows, glinting off the counters, the air thick with the scent of coffee and butter. Damien sat across from me, his dark hair missed, his jaw working as he chewed, his eyes fixed on his food, a faint tension in his shoulders I couldn’t place. Lucien stood by the counter, his back to us, pouring coffee into a mug, his broad frame relaxed in a way that made my chest ache—yesterday still lingered, his touch, his heat, the pool, the bed, a hunger we’d unleashed after weeks apart. He turned to face us with a mug in hand, he took a sip out of the mug before setting it down, his enchanting eyes catching mine, a flicker of something serious in them. “I’ve got to head out,” he said, his voice steady, his hands resting on the table as he leaned in. “I’ve be gone for a couple of days, I’ve got to attend to the pack needs. T
DAMIEN’S POV I stood over her, my boots planted firm on the hardwood, my hands shaking as I stared down—Olivia, curled tight on the bed, her eyes wide, wet with tears, the sheet clutched to her chest, her breath hitching fast. My stomach twisted hard, guilt slamming me, raw and heavy, my throat burning with it. I’d pinned her, pushed her, my hands on her arms, her skin soft and wet under my grip, her cries snapping me back from whatever dark haze had swallowed me. I stepped back, my chest heaving, my voice rough as I forced it out. “Olivia, I’m sorry,” I said, my hands lifting, palms up, trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean it—I didn’t know what I was doing. I promise it won’t happen again, I swear.”Her face didn’t soften, her jaw still tight, her eyes sharp and cutting through me, there was no forgiveness there, just fear, anger and a wall I couldn’t climb. Inside my wolf snarled, confused and pacing; she’s our mate, we’ve fucked her raw countless times, why’s she acting like this?
OLIVIA’S POV I stepped out the front door, the morning air cool against my skin, my slippers scuffing the porch boards I turned toward the side of the house. The roof sloped low here with a ladder bolted to the wall, its rungs weathered but sturdy, leading up to the flat stretch above the garage. I gripped the metal, came under my palms, and climbed, my breaths puffing white, my legs steady despite the tremor still lingering from Damien’s hands and his weight, his voice thick with something I couldn’t unhear. The shingles rasped under my soles as I settled near the edge, my hands bracing beside me, my knees bent, my feet dangling free, swinging slow over the drop.The world stretched quiet below—trees swaying faintly, their leaves gold and red, the yard still, the house a hulking shadow at my back. I stared out, my mind spinning, replaying it—Damien’s grip, his eyes wild, pinning me to the bed, my tears hot, my voice begging. “What the hell was that for? Why would he do it? What the
LUCIEN’S POVI sat at the long oak table in the Moonblood conference room, my leather chair creaking beneath me as I shifted, the faint groan of wood blending with the low hum of voices around me. The air hung heavy with the scent of brewed coffee, old paper, and the sharp tang of ink from the stack of financial reports spread before us. Sunlight sliced through the half-open blinds, casting thin, jagged lines across the polished surface, glinting off the pens and glasses of the elders seated in a semicircle—Grayson, Mara, Torin, their faces etched with years, their suits pressed, their eyes darting between me and the glowing projector screen. My tie dangled loose around my neck, the knot undone, my shirt sleeves rolled up to my elbows, exposing forearms tense with restless energy. My hands rested flat on the table, fingers splayed, but my mind wandered far beyond the walls of this sterile room.The elders spoke in clipped tones, their words a steady drone, numbers tumbling out, losse
DAMIEN’S POV I stood in the woods, my boots planted in the damp earth, the phone pressed hard against my ear, my voice tight as I spoke into the silence. “Lucien. Olivia is missing.” The line stayed quiet, no breath, no sound, just a void stretching long, my pulse thudding loud in my skull. I shifted, my free hand flexing, my eyes scanning the trees, their shadows swaying in the late afternoon light. “Hello? You there?”A rustle came through, faint, then his voice, low and sharp. “What happened? How’d she go missing? Where were you?”I swallowed, my throat dry, my gaze dropping to the ground—to the red ribbon lying crumpled in the dirt, her bow, the one she’d worn that morning, its edges frayed. “She was in the house with me. Then suddenly she said she needed air and then she went to the roof. I stepped out to check on her and she wasn’t there. I looked in the garden, around the yard, and I found nothing, so I trailed her scent into the woods. I found her ribbon.” I crouched, my fing
ALARIC’S POVI leaned against the rough wall of the abandoned warehouse, my arms crossed, my boots scuffing the cracked concrete floor as I stared at her—Olivia, sprawled on the ground, her wrists and ankles bound tight with rope, her dark hair fanning wild across her face. Dust hung thick in the air, the faint scent of rust and mold clinging to the damp space, the only light spilling from a single bulb swaying overhead, casting jagged shadows over her still form. She lay motionless, her chest rising slow, her lips parted, knocked out cold—triple the wolfsbane dose, a reckless move by the human I’d hired, his trembling hands overdoing it when he jabbed the syringe into her neck three hours ago.I’d found him weeks back, slumped over a barstool in a dive outside town, his eyes hollow, his hands clutching a chipped glass of cheap whiskey. The place reeked of stale beer and sweat, the jukebox droning some forgotten tune as I slid onto the seat beside him. He spilled his story quick—debts
LUCIEN’S POV I stood in the center of Damien’s living room, my boots rooted to the hardwood floor, the faint creak of the boards under my weight the only sound breaking the heavy silence. The air carried a stale mix of whiskey and sweat, the bottle Damien had been nursing earlier still perched on the coffee table, its amber contents catching the dim glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the glass walls. My arms stayed crossed tight over my chest, my jacket creaking as I shifted, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Damien paced near the fireplace, his dark hair a mess from his hands raking through it, his face pale, his eyes red and glassy from the tears he’d scrubbed away before I arrived. Daiki lounged against the doorframe, his broad shoulders slouched, his dark eyes flicking between us, while Mayor Larry sat stiffly on the couch, his gray coat unbuttoned, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his knee, his sharp gaze darting to the window every few seconds.Th
OLIVIA’S POVThe hospital room smelled of antiseptic and fresh cotton, the faint beep of the monitor steady as I sat up in the bed, my hands resting on the thin blanket, my body aching but alive. Five months had stretched since that night in the cavern, my belly now a gentle curve beneath the gown, the baby kicking soft against my ribs. Lucien stood by my side, his hand warm around mine, his dark eyes glistening with unshed tears, his thumb brushing my knuckles. Damien lingered near the door, his arms crossed, his jaw tight, the weight of the past days etched into his face. Alaric slouched in a chair, his boots propped on the frame, while Mara hovered near the window, her gaze soft but watchful.My chest tightened, my breath shallow as I looked between them, the words I’d held back for too long clawing their way up. I squeezed Lucien’s hand, my voice trembling but firm. “Damien, I need to say something.”He straightened, his hands dropping to his sides, his eyes meeting mine, steady
DAMIEN’S POVThe hospital’s waiting room buzzed with a low hum, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the tiled floor where I stood, my boots scuffing the edge of a chair. Olivia lay beyond the glass doors, her breathing steady now, the doctors’ voices a faint murmur as they worked. Lucien sat beside her bed, his hand wrapped around hers, his shoulders hunched, tears glistening on his cheeks as he stared at her pale face. My chest tightened, a sharp pang twisting through me, jealousy flaring hot as I watched him—his fear, his love, raw and unguarded. Alaric sprawled in a chair nearby, his knife tucked away, his head tilted back, eyes shut, while Mara perched close, her gaze flicking between Olivia and the door.I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed, my jacket creaking as I shifted, the weight of it all pressing down. Lucien’s return had shifted everything—cracked open a truth I’d dodged for months. Olivia’s heart belonged to him, always had, and I’d known it deep dow
LUCIEN’S POVThe cavern reeked of blood and ash, the air thick with the metallic tang of death as I knelt beside Olivia, my hands slick with her blood, her body limp against the cold stone. The Lunar Eclipse’s red glow faded overhead, the torchlight flickering weak across the carnage—bodies strewn everywhere, cultists torn apart, the original Alphas reduced to lifeless husks, Selene’s shattered form a pile of dust in the center. Natalie lay steps away, her chest still, her blood pooling dark under her, Olivia’s claws having ripped through her in that final, wild surge. My breath hitched, my fingers pressing against Olivia’s neck, her pulse faint but there, her mouth stained red, her eyes shut as she’d collapsed after screaming for her mother.Damien dropped beside me, his pistol clattering to the ground, his hands shaking as he gripped her shoulders, his voice raw. “Olivia, come on, wake up.” I pushed her hair back, my own hands trembling, her skin clammy under my touch, but she did
NATALIE’S POVThe cavern pulsed with a low hum, the air thick with the scent of iron and damp stone as I sat chained to the jagged wall, my wrists raw from the iron biting into my skin. The Lunar Eclipse bathed the chamber in a sickly red glow, the light seeping through cracks in the ceiling, casting twisted shadows across the cultists’ hooded figures. Olivia slumped beside me, her pregnant belly straining against her shirt, her face pale and slick with sweat as the ritual began. The cult’s leader, Vladimir, a gaunt man with sunken eyes and a silver blade—stood over her, his voice rising in a guttural chant, the words foreign and sharp, slicing through the stillness.My heart pounded, my chains rattling as I strained forward, watching them carve symbols into the stone floor around her, their knives glinting in the crimson light. A bowl sat between us, its edges crusted with old blood, and they dragged a claw across Olivia’s arm, her gasp echoing as red welled and dripped into it. Pain
DAMIEN’S POVThe pickup’s engine growled as I pulled into the cabin’s drive, the headlights sweeping across the gravel, cutting through the dusk’s heavy gray. Alaric slouched in the passenger seat, his boots propped on the dash, a half-empty beer can dangling from his fingers. We’d spent the day scouting the hills, chasing rumors of rogue wolves stirring trouble, but my mind kept drifting to Olivia—her pacing, her tears, the way she’d dodged my questions since Lucien showed up. The truck jolted to a stop, and I frowned, my gut twisting as her car came into view, parked crooked, the driver’s door hanging open.I climbed out, my boots crunching the gravel, the air cool and sharp against my skin. Groceries littered the ground—apples bruised and scattered, a milk jug leaking white into the dirt, a loaf of bread torn open by some critter. My pulse kicked up, my hands clenching as I scanned the yard, the cabin’s windows dark, the porch silent.“Olivia?” I called, my voice rough, bouncing of
OLIVIA’S POVThe cabin’s wooden floor groaned under my restless steps, my socks sliding as I paced the living room, the late afternoon sun slicing through the blinds in thin, golden bars. Lucien’s visit three days ago clung to me—his eyes shattering at the sight of my four-month belly, his voice low with apology, the way he’d turned and left with Mara shadowing him. My chest throbbed, a steady ache I couldn’t shake, and I paused by the window, my fingers brushing the frayed curtain, my breath fogging the glass in short, uneven bursts. Damien’s boots scuffed the kitchen floor behind me, his shadow stretching long, and I spun, pasting on a smile as he leaned against the counter, his brow creasing with that quiet worry he’d worn lately.“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, hands buried in his jean pockets, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Been pacing like a caged wolf all day.”I nodded fast, my hand drifting to my stomach, the baby’s faint kick pressing against my palm. “Fine. Jus
LUCIEN’S POVSleep wrapped me tight, the familiar hum of the house in Pine Hollow lulling me deep, my body sunk into the mattress. Three months had passed since I’d come back—three months of road trips with Little Lucien, Dad’s gruff jokes, Mom’s warm meals, and I’d found a rhythm, a peace I hadn’t known in years. Nana’s stern face flickered in my dreams, Mara’s laugh too, and Olivia—always Olivia—her shadow lingering no matter how hard I tried to let it fade. Mom’s voice echoed too, soft but persistent, urging me to forgive her, to hear her out. I’d nodded, let the words settle, decided in my heart to let it go, but my boots hadn’t crossed back to New Orleans.A howl pierced the night—sharp, wild, yanking me awake. I bolted upright, my heart pounding, the sheets slipping to my waist. The sound cut through the stillness, a wolf’s cry I hadn’t heard since I’d left the pack behind. I swung my legs over the bed, the floor cold under my feet, and stumbled to the window, shoving the curtai
OLIVIA’S POVDust swirled around the truck’s tires as Dad pulled into the clearing, the engine rumbling to a stop. I squinted through the windshield, my stomach twisting as the familiar jagged pines of Blood Wagon Park loomed ahead, their shadows stretching long in the late morning light. My hands gripped the seat, the leather creaking under my fingers, a chill creeping up my spine. I knew this place—too well—and Aslaug lived here, her presence a thorn I’d dodged for months. The last time we’d spoken, her voice had dripped with venom, accusing me of chasing Ben, her Ben, despite me swearing I’d never tried. That call with him two months back—his sharp words, our friendship cracking—had been the end. I’d stopped reaching out, letting the silence grow, but stepping into her territory now felt like walking into a trap.I turned to Dad, my voice tight, my foot tapping the floorboard. “I don’t want to be here. Let’s get out of here, please. I’m not comfortable.”He killed the engine, his
DAMIEN’S POVThe bed jolted beneath me, Olivia’s scream slicing through the quiet night, her voice raw and jagged. I bolted upright, my heart slamming against my ribs, the sheets tangled around my legs as I reached for her. She thrashed, her eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on her forehead, words spilling from her lips—guttural, strange, a jumble of sounds I couldn’t grasp. Her hands clawed at the air, nails digging into nothing, and I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently, my voice hoarse. “Olivia. Olivia, wake up.”Her eyes snapped open, wide and unseeing, black voids staring past me, her breath ragged. She shoved me off, scrambling for the nightstand, her fingers snatching a pen and a scrap of paper from the drawer. I froze, my hands hovering, as she hunched over, scribbling fast—sharp, jagged symbols, loops and slashes that meant nothing to me. “Olivia,” I said, louder now, leaning closer. “You okay? Talk to me.”She didn’t flinch, didn’t look up, her pen scratching louder, f