Olivia’s POV“We’re not alone,” the Demon Alpha said, his voice low and menacing. The shadows around us shifted, and my heart thudded in my chest. Lucien tensed beside me, his hand twitching like he was preparing to shift. The sharp scent of an unfamiliar cologne reached me just before a figure stepped into the clearing.My father.Alpha Aaron.Dressed in his usual pristine uniform, he carried the same cold authority that had always made me feel small. His steely gray eyes flicked from Lucien to the Demon Alpha before finally settling on me.“Olivia,” he drawled, his lips curling in disdain. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to disgrace this family further, but I see I underestimated you.”I froze under his gaze, his words striking like a whip.“Father,” I began, trying to steady my voice, “I didn’t—”“Didn’t what?” he interrupted sharply. “You think I don’t know? Two mates, Olivia Black? Two!” He spat the words out like they were poison. “You’ve gone from being a weak excuse o
Lucien’s POVIt was raining again, the kind of storm that felt alive, clawing at the walls and windows with an unrelenting fury. The sound of water hitting the earth was deafening, a reminder of the chaos that mirrored my life, a reminder of how far I’d fallen. Two months of storms—one inside me, the other out there. I watched the rain, my forehead pressed against the cold glass, as if the chill could numb the mess swirling in my head. The room was cold, but I didn’t light the fire. I welcomed the chill; it was better than the suffocating heat of my wolf “Zephyr”clawing at the edges of my mind. His growl was consistent now, low and menacing, a reminder that I was barely holding it together. The cold glass beneath my fingers felt grounding, but it did little to drown out the memories that surged like the relentless storm outside. I pressed my forehead to the glass, my breath fogging the surface, and tried to drown out the storm inside. But it was no use. Tonight, the memories were lo
Lucien’s POVThe room was quiet, but not the silence of peace—no, this was the kind of quiet that pressed against my skull, amplifying every thought, every memory. It was Olivia’s voice that haunted me, her laughter echoing through the cracks of my sanity. And then, the lingering image of him, Damon, standing too close to her, their bond shimmering like a blade poised to cut me out of her life completely.Zephyr stirred restlessly, his growl rumbling in the back of my mind. ‘Weak. We lost her because you were weak, you were a coward.’ His words clawed at me like a glass, sharp and unforgiving.“Shut up,” I snarled, pacing the length of my quarters.But Zephyr didn’t stop. ‘She doesn’t belong to you anymore. She never did. Look at yourself—pathetic. You can’t even control me, let alone her fate.’I grabbed the whiskey glass from the side table, its amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror across the room, pale and gaunt, with
Damon’s POVMy study was a cavern of silence, the only light coming from the silver of moonlight creeping through the cracks of the heavy curtains. It cast eerie shapes on the walls, but I didn’t bother looking at them. I sat in my chair, back to the door, staring at nothing. The weight of the evening pressed against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. Olivia Black.Her name alone was a curse, ringing through my thoughts, unrelenting and cruel. Malakai, my wolf, had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, save for the occasional growl when her scent invaded my senses. It was maddening, this pull, this bond that I neither wanted nor asked for.I closed my eyes, leaning back in the chair as the memories of the mating ceremony replayed in my mind.I had walked into that hall expecting a dull, pointless event—just another show of wolves looking to secure alliances through a mate bond. But then I saw her. Olivia.She’d been standing by the far corner, her dark green dress flowing l
Olivia’s POVThe garden was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind teasing the leaves. It should’ve been a peaceful place, a sanctuary from the chaos of the last few days, but tonight it felt heavy, like the weight of the world had settled here with me. I sat on the cold stone bench, head buried between my knees, arms wrapped tightly around myself. The crisp night air bit at my skin, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were louder than the wind, circling endlessly as I tried to make sense of the mess I was in.What would my mother say if she was here?She would’ve known what to do. She always did. But now, all I had were memories of her voice, faint whispers of advice that felt so far out of reach.The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel path pulled me from my thoughts. I didn’t bother looking up, too tired to care who it was.“Figured I’d find you here.”That voice.I lifted my head slowly, my swollen eyes meeting the familiar grin of Ben. He stood a few steps away,
Olivia’s POVThe sound of Ben’s footsteps fading into the distance was oddly comforting and yet so terribly isolating. I stayed rooted to the garden bench, the night air clinging to my skin like a damp shroud. The solitude stretched on, but the house loomed behind me, its dark window an unspoken reminder that I couldn’t avoid what was waiting inside forever.With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up and trudged toward the house. Every step felt like dragging a weight behind me. The warm glow of the chandelier in the foyer was deceptive, masking the chill that always seemed to hang in the air when I stepped inside. As soon as I closed the door behind me, her voice cut through the silence like a dagger.“Where the hell have you been?”I didn’t need to look to know it was her—Claire, my stepmother. Her voice carried that same venom it always did, sharp and cutting, as if each word was chosen to wound.“I was just outside,” I said evenly, forcing myself to meet her gaze. She stood at the bas
Olivia’s POVThe whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but it wasn’t enough to dull the ache in my chest. I set the glass down harder than intended, the sharp clink of glass on wood drawing the bartender’s wary eyes. I didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper. Let them judge. What was left of my dignity had already crumbled under the weight of tonight. And yeah with the presence of my two mates watching at me from behind I guess I have no dignity at all. The low hum of the club’s music throbbed in the background, but it did little to drown out my thoughts. My father’s words, his cold dismissal, echoed louder than any baseline. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to or maybe I still had one last person to turn to—Ben. Ben’s number was still pulled up on my phone, but I hadn’t really pressed call again. What would I even say? Is it for him to hurry and come over to save me from the show of you owns me between these two Alphas behind me? Cause I can already smell the rift. The
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 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,
ALARIC’S POV I leaned back in the leather chair, the dim glow of the fireplace casting flickering shadows across my study. The air smelled of smoke and whiskey, the glass in my hand half-empty, its burn a faint echo of the satisfaction simmering in my chest. Thomas Hale was dead—his wife, his daughter, his grandson, all gone. I’d watched the flames swallow their house, the crackle of timber and the screams fading into the night. No bodies left, no graves to mourn—just ash. Damien would feel it, that hollow stab of loss, and it fueled me, a dark joy curling through my veins. The Hales weren’t the first—his housekeeper, an old woman who’d fussed over him since he was seventeen, had bled out under my knife years back. Servants, friends, business partners—anyone he let close, I’d taken, leaving him alone, a king with no court. He deserved it, after what he’d done.The door creaked, and Creed Hunters stepped in, his boots thudding against the hardwood. His lean frame filled the doorway,
OLIVIA’S POVI perched on the edge of the bed, my knees drawn up, staring at Lucien as he lay sprawled across the sheets. His chest rose and fell, slow and ragged, the scratch marks I’d left on his cheek still red against his skin. My nails had brought him back—snapped him out of Zephyr’s grip—and now he rested, exhaustion pulling him under. The room was quiet, the late afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his face. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my mind churning, torn in two directions I couldn’t untangle. Nine months had slipped by since the mate bonds locked me to Damien and Lucien. Weekends with Damien, every Saturday and Sunday tangled in his sheets at the Fallenstar’s Home, learning him piece by piece. Everyone feared him, whispered about the blood on his hands—his parents, his whole family, slaughtered by his own claws. They called him a monster, a killer who’d snuffed them out to claim power. But I’d seen him wake gasping from nig
LUCIEN’S POVI stood in the living room, the afternoon light spilling through the tall windows of the mansion, casting long shadows across the hardwood. My joggers hung low on my hips, the black singlet clinging to my chest, and the coffee mug warmed my hand as I took a slow sip. Olivia was due back today—Monday, her weekday with me—and my blood hummed with anticipation. Nine months she’d been splitting herself between me and Damien, weekdays here, weekends there, a dance I’d grown used to but never liked. I didn’t know for sure what she did with him, didn’t ask, but I felt it—her body carried his echo sometimes, faint and infuriating. That first hickey, two months into this mess, had been proof enough. Since then, I’d buried the question, let it fester in silence. She came back to me ready, always, her heat a wildfire I couldn’t resist.The curse gnawed at me, though, sharper now than ever. Zephyr—my Lycan half—clawed inside, restless, violent, a storm I couldn’t tame. Maximus, my a
DAMIEN’S POVI stood in my study, the late morning light filtering through the tall windows, glinting off the whiskey glass in my hand. My black joggers hung low, my chest bare, water dripping from my hair onto my shoulders, fresh from the shower. The room smelled of oak and leather, but Olivia’s scent lingered—wild, sweet, a ghost from last night. She’d left for Lucien’s place hours ago, her weekend with me over, and I hated it. Nine months of this—two days a week with her, five with him—and it wasn’t enough. I wanted her here, always, her heat pressed against me, her voice in my ear. The imbalance gnawed at me, a raw ache I couldn’t shake. I took a sip, the burn sliding down my throat, and my mind slipped back to last night. She’d stormed in here, her eyes locked on me as I hunched over maps and notes, chasing Alaric’s shadow. Papers sprawled across the desk—leads, dead ends, whispers of where my brother might be. He was a phantom—human towns one day, werewolf packs the next, alwa
VLADIMIR’S POV I woke with a start, the afternoon sun clawing through the heavy drapes of my bedroom, casting jagged shadows across the oak floor. My fingers curled around the tumbler of whiskey I’d clutched even in sleep, the amber liquid sloshing as I sat up, the leather headboard creaking under my weight. Two weeks had passed since my last clear thought—two weeks of restless nights, haunted by visions of Selene’s return. The cult was running out of time, the threads of our purpose fraying, and every heartbeat thrummed with the weight of it. I took a long swallow, the burn steadying me, and let my gaze drift to the sprawl of my mansion beyond the open door—marble halls, gilded frames, a hollow empire built on faith and blood.The sheets rustled beside me, and I turned to see Claire, her hair spilling over the pillow, her bare shoulder peeking from beneath the silk. She’d slipped in that morning, silent as a shadow, her scent—jasmine and deceit—still clinging to the air. Alpha Aaro
BEN’S POVI jolted awake, the afternoon sun slanting through the blinds, casting gold across my tangled sheets. My head throbbed, a dull ache from a night spent tossing, my mind gnawing at Olivia’s choices. She’d slept with Damon—Damon, of all people—when I’d been so sure her heart still belonged to Lucien. Three years of marriage, spilt by three measly months, and she’d told me everything after—how empty she’d felt, how the void lingered. As her best friend, I’d listened, nodded, believed she’d run back to Lucien the second their mate bond snapped into place. Yet here she was, tangled up with Damon too, and it felt like a knife in my gut. Betrayal, plain and simple, even if she didn’t see it that way. I rubbed my face, groaning as I sat up, the bed cold beside me. Aslaug had stormed out last night, fed up with my pacing, my muttering. “I can’t watch you obsess over her anymore,” she’d snapped, her dark eyes flashing before she grabbed her keys and left for her own place. I hadn’t b
MAYOR LARRY’S POV: I had just returned back to my home after an unexpected visit from Damon. I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of my penthouse, the city skyline glittering below like a taunt. My reflection stared back—gray streaks in my hair, lines etched deep around my eyes, a man hollowed out by hate. The tumbler of whiskey burned in my grip, the ice clinking as I swirled it. Werewolves. Filthy, treacherous beasts. They’d taken everything—Natalie, my sister, my peace—and left me with nothing but this gnawing need to see them bleed. Natalie’s face flickered in my mind, unbidden. Those wide green eyes, the freckles dusting her nose, the way she’d laughed as a kid, chasing me through our parents’ sprawling estate. Adopted, sure, but mine—my little shadow. Mom and Dad found her abandoned, a scrawny thing wrapped in rags, and raised her human. We didn’t know what she was until she hit eighteen, when the wolf broke through—claws shredding her prom dress, eyes glowing gold. She cou
OLIVIA’S POVI stirred awake, the weight of Lucien’s arm pinning me to the bed, his breath warm against my neck. Nana’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding, pulling me from the fog of sleep. “Lunch is ready—get down here!” she’d hollered, her footsteps already fading downstairs. I slipped out from under him, the duvet sliding off my bare skin as I sat up, every muscle loose and humming. We hadn’t eaten all morning—too caught up in each other—and my stomach growled at the promise of food. I glanced at Lucien, still sprawled across the sheets, and stood, naked as the day I was born, my feet padding toward the bathroom.The door clicked shut behind me, the lock snapping into place, and I faced myself in the mirror. My reflection stared back—hair a wild tangle, lips red and bruised, a faint mark on my collarbone where Lucien’s hunger had left its claim. For the first time in months, I didn’t cringe. My body felt… right. Whole. Not just from the ache of exertion, but from him