OLIVIA’S POVThe soft hum of silence cocooned me as I slept, but it was a restless sleep—one marred by fits of tossing and turning. I must have cried myself into this pitiful exhaustion because the soreness around my eyes confirmed it. My dreams had been cruel, replaying memories and fears on an endless loop, only to snap me awake in a cold sweat.Then it happened—the noise.A sharp clink, the unmistakable sound of glass meeting glass. My eyes snapped open, heart racing in the suffocating darkness of my room. I blinked a few times before my hand instinctively reached for the lamp by my bed. A soft glow filled the room, chasing away the shadows but doing little to ease my thundering heart.My eyes darted to the clock on the bedside table. 7:23 PM. A sharp sigh escaped my lips. Six hours. I’d been asleep for six long hours. That explained the dry, scratchy sensation in my throat and the heaviness in my limbs. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as the cold floor
DAMON’S POV The taste of her lips caught me off guard—a heady mix of salt and sweetness that sent my thoughts spiraling. One second, I was rooted in disbelief, and the next, her soft hands were gripping my collar, pulling me closer, tethering me to the moment I wasn’t prepared for. “Help me get my mind off things,” she whispered, her voice trembling yet determined, her lips hovering inches from mine. My body froze, but my wolf roared in approval, clawing at the confines of my mind. Mate. She’s ours. Take her. I pulled back just enough to search her face, my breath uneven. “Olivia… are you sure?” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Her eyes met mine—those deep, stormy eyes that always held so much pain, but now, they flickered with something else. Desire. “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. Her voice was resolute, but the vulnerability in her expression cracked something inside me.I couldn’t fight it anymore. My restraint, my logic, my carefully constructed walls—they all crumbled
NANA’S POV I stood in front of Lucien’s door, my knuckles sore from pounding on it repeatedly. “Lucien, please! Open the door!” My voice cracked, my throat raw from shouting. Nothing. Not a sound.The faint scent of blood lingered, mixing with the stale air of desperation that had settled over me. I pressed my ear to the door, straining to hear even the faintest movement. Still nothing. He was in there, but he wasn’t responding.My hands trembled as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, my thumb hovering over Archimedes’ contact. I didn’t want to call him, not after everything he’d done, but I had no choice, there was no other person to call. I hit the dial button, pacing the length of the hallway as it rang.“Archimedes,” his deep voice answered, cold and detached as always.“Lucien’s locked himself in his room,” I said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He’s not answering. His course—it’s happening again. He ran upstairs earlier, trying to protect me, and now—now he’s not responding
ALARIC’S POVI stood in the middle of my room, shirtless, the cold air brushing against my skin, but I barely felt it. The full moon cast a pale glow over the vast room, it’s light illuminating the faint scars on my chest, each one a reminder of a past I could never escape. The champagne glass in my hand was nearly empty, the coolness of the crystal grounding me as I stared out of the massive window. The city lights flickered in the distance, a deceptive beauty that mocked the darkness within me.As the alcohol slid down my throat, bitter and sharp, my mind drifted—no, it was yanked—back to that night. The night that shattered everything. The house had been eerily silent when I returned, an unnatural stillness that made my wolf stir uneasily. The scent of blood hit me first—thick, metallic, suffocating. I remember how my steps faltered, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed the door open.They were everywhere. My family. My brothers. My mother. My father. Their bodies lay sprawle
ARCHIMEDES’ POVThe dining room felt like a cold, hollow shell despite the flickering warmth of the chandelier above. Nana sat across from me, her trembling fingers clasping a handkerchief damp with tears. The quiet sobs that escaped her seemed to echo off the walls, amplifying the heaviness in the room.I couldn’t meet her gaze. Not when I was the reason behind her anguish. Not when I was the reason behind Lucien’s torment.The weight of my failure was suffocating, coiled tightly around my chest like a serpent. My fingers traced the edge of the wooden table absently as I stared at the untouched cup of coffee before Nana. It had long since gone cold, just like everything else I’d tried to nurture in my life.Nana sniffled loudly, breaking the suffocating silence. “He doesn’t deserve this,” she whispered, her voice raw and filled with anguish. “He never did, Archimedes.”Her words hit like daggers, each one lodging itself deeper into the fragile wall of denial I had built over the year
OLIVIA’S POVThe kitchen was silent except for the sound of my shallow breaths. My body remained sprawled on the cold granite countertop, damp with sweat and stained by what had just transpired. The stillness pressed against my chest, but I didn’t move. Not yet.Damon’s voice came from somewhere in the haze. “Damn it, Olivia…” he muttered under his breath, low and gravelly. His tone was laced with regret, his words spiraling into curses as he stepped away from me. “I… I didn’t mean to—”He was pacing now, his hands raking through his hair as though he could pull the guilt straight out of his skull. “I shouldn’t have done that… shouldn’t have let myself…” His voice trailed off into something barely audible. I stayed still, staring up at the ceiling. The chandelier above swayed faintly, the soft glow of its light casting intricate patterns that felt too delicate for the mess we had just created. Damon’s rambling felt like a distant echo, like waves breaking against a shore too far away
LUCIEN’S POVThe house was quiet now, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged moments ago. I leaned back in the chair by the window, my fingers gripping the armrests as I tried to steady my breathing. The fight with my father still echoed in my ears, his voice sharp and unyielding, mine breaking under the weight of years of anger and resentment. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as the trembling in my lips refused to stop. The rage was there, bubbling just beneath the surface, but it was the despair that weighed me down.“Lucien.”Nana’s voice was soft, her presence grounding. She moved toward me, her frail frame exuding a strength I couldn’t quite understand. Her arms wrapped around me as she pressed her check to the top of my head.“You need to calm down, my child,” she whispered, her tone soothing. “Archimedes has left. He won’t trouble you for now.”I felt the tension in my shoulders ease under her embrace. Her hands ran gently along my back, and for a moment,
BEN’S POVI set my phone facedown on the nightstand, Olivia’s name still flickering in my thoughts. The call had been quick, my response hurried and dismissive, but her voice had lingered. There was something in the way she said my name—something unsteady, like she was holding herself together by the thinnest thread.But she was with Damon. Damon could handle it, right? He always has a way of solving problems right, I mean he could be a bit responsible like Lucien and help pull her out of her head when it gets too noisy. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was really okay.“Ben,” Aslaug’s voice was a soft growl, pulling me back into the moment. Her arms slipped around my waist, her fingers splaying across my bare chest as she pressed herself against my back. “Where did you just go?” “I’m here,” I said, though my tone lacked conviction. She moved around me, her long, crimson hair cascading over one shoulder as she tilted her head to study me. Her eyes—those piercing green eyes t
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,
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