DAMON POVThe door creaked as Lucien pushed it open, the faint scent of blood and decay hitting us like a freight train. I stepped in behind him, my senses sharpening as the suffocating air wrapped around us. The darkness inside the cabin was thick, almost alive, and I could feel it gnawing at the edges of my control.We had walked into a trap.The flicker of movement in the shadows confirmed my suspicions. Rogues—filthy, desperate wolves—emerged from the corners of the room, their twisted forms barely resembling the once-proud wolves they might have been. Their snarls filled the space, low and menacing, but I wasn’t intimidated.Lucien stepped forward, his broad shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his sides. His presence was commanding, his Lycan aura a storm of power that made the rogues hesitate for a fraction of a second. But then, like the rabid creatures they were, they lunged.The room exploded into chaos.Lucien shifted first, his bones cracking and reshaping as his wolf er
VLADIMIR POVThe night’s chill bit at my skin as I fled through the dense forest, the crunch of dead leaves beneath my boots masking the sound of my labored breaths. The moon, full and luminous, mocked me from above. Her light spilled through the canopy like the sneer of a silent enemy.They had ruined everything.I leapt over a fallen log, my muscles burning from the exertion. My body screamed at me to stop, to rest, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of weakness. Not now. Not when my enemies had already proven they were more relentless than I had anticipated. My hand shot out to grip a low-hanging branch for balance, but I miscalculated. A sharp splinter jabbed into my palm, and I hissed, more out of frustration than pain. Blood welled from the wound, dripping onto the forest floor, but I didn’t stop.Not until I was far enough away.The memory of their interference burned in my mind. Lucien, the Alpha and a Lycan—a beast born of power and wrath. Damon, the Alpha, with sharp instinct
Damon POVThe night air stung my skin, cold and unyielding, as I stood at the cabin’s threshold. Blood painted the forest floor, mingling with the metallic tang of sweat and death. The chaos of the battle still buzzed in my head like an unrelenting storm, but my focus was on Lucien, cradling Olivia’s limp body against his chest.His hands were trembling. Not from weakness—I’d seen Lucien take blows that would have shattered another man. No, this was different. He clutched her as if letting go would mean losing her forever. But the deep slash Vladimir had carved into his ribs was still bleeding, the dark stain spreading across his torn shirt. “Lucien,” I called sharply, stepping closer. His eyes snapped to mine, a feral glint in them, but the pain lurking behind his gaze dulled their intensity.“You can’t carry her,” I said, nodding toward his side. “You’re barely holding yourself together.”“I’ll manage,” he ground out, his voice strained.“Stop being a fool,” I snapped. “You’ll drop
Lucien’s POVThe tension in the room was suffocating. Damon's eyes were fixed on me, expectant yet probing. I could feel his presence like an iron grip around my chest, demanding answers I wasn’t ready to give. His question hung in the air like a guillotine, and the weight of his gaze bore into me.“When did Olivia get the Mate Tattoo?” he asked again, his voice low, controlled, but edged with an undercurrent of something dangerous.I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, leaning back with an exaggerated exhale to buy myself time. The sharp sting from the wound Vladimir left on my ribs wasn’t helping my focus. My shirt was soaked with blood, and Damon’s attempt to speed up my recovery process by summoning his Alpha trait had been helpful. But none of that mattered right now.How was I supposed to explain this without exposing everything? I glanced at Damon from the corner of my eye. He was standing near the doorway, his posture rigid as he awaited my response. I could tell he already ha
AARON The mirror was a liar.Every night it reflected a man I hardly even recognized anymore. Silver strands streaked through my once jet-black hair, etched lines marred the corners of my eyes, and my mouth—once firm and resolute—was now an exhausted frown. But what struck me most was the hollowness in my gaze. That, no mirror could conceal.Tonight was no different. Seated in front of the wide, ornate mirror in my chamber, I stared at the man who had failed at being a father, failed at being a mate—a husband, and perhaps even failed as an Alpha.My fingers drummed against the armrest of the chair as I thought of her—Olivia. My daughter. My once precious child. My flesh and blood. And yet, when I looked at her, all I could see was Natalie. That same soft auburn hair, that determined chin, and those eyes—eyes that haunted me every waking moment.Four years. For four years, I had treated Olivia like she was a ghost, a cruel reminder of the woman who vanished without a trace, leaving no
DAMON POVThe night air clung to me like a shroud as I stepped out of Lucien’s home. The cool breeze, heavy with the scent of pine and rain-soaked earth, did little to soothe the storm brewing within me. I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets, my jaw clenched as I fought to keep my composure.I was Damon Fallenstar, the enforcer, the lone wolf who never flinched in the face of danger. I’d built walls around myself so high that even I had forgotten what it felt like to be vulnerable. But tonight, every brick in that wall seemed to crumble under the weight of my own thoughts.The events of the past days looped in my mind like a broken record. Olivia’s scream, the clash of claws against flesh, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had taken hold of me as Vladimir overpowered me. He’d taken her—he’d taken her while I was way too busy satisfying my sexual hunger, he’d taken her while I was way too busy fighting my way out of his ambush.I exhaled sharply, my breath visible i
CLAIRE POVThe moon hung low outside, its pale light casting an ethereal glow over the Black Pack estate. I pulled the door to Aaron’s study shut behind me, careful to ensure the latch clicked softly. The servant boy’s whispers about Olivia’s abduction still lingered in the air, and I could feel Aaron’s tension even through the closed door. But my concern was an act, a mask I wore with practiced ease. Inside, I seethed. I descended the staircase with measured grace, ensuring the guards and pack members who lingered about the estate saw nothing but the poised and elegant Luna. My face was a picture of worry, my steps purposeful, as though I was heading off to orchestrate the search for Olivia. Instead, I walked out into the cool night air, the crisp wind biting against my skin. The moment I was alone, my composure shattered. A wicked smile spread across my lips, and I scoffed quietly to myself. Poor little Olivia, I thought, my fingers tracing the edge of my robe. If only they knew.
LUCIEN The door slammed shut behind me with a force that rattled the frame, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the echoes of my own words. The moment I took my first step inside, the walls seemed to close in on me, like a predator circling its prey. My ribs ached with shallow breath, the injury Vladimir inflicted burning like a fire that refused to be extinguished. I pressed my palm against the wound, trying to steady myself, but the pressure only seemed to intensify the pain.Despite that I was glad I finally stood up to him—to Archimedes, my supposed father. Every single thought I’d buried for eighteen years, every ounce of resentment I’d swallowed just to survive in Archimedes’ shadow, it had all come pouring out like a flood I couldn’t stop. And yet, as the silence of the room closed in around me, the weight of my anger didn’t dissipate.I paced back and forth, my ribs protesting with each jarring step. The confrontation replayed in my head, every word laced with venom. I could s
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,