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 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,
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.
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
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 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
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’
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 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