CalistaI roll my eyes as I glance at “Armata” as he insists on being called—standing in the corner of the training room like a dark sentinel. Honestly, what was my father thinking? I already have two bodyguards, but no, he had to bring in this one. This tall, impossibly broad-shouldered man with piercing eyes and an aura of danger so thick, it could cut glass.Today is training at Luna Academy, a place for women to learn and grow into the roles they’ll assume alongside their Alpha mates. It’s supposed to be empowering, but instead, the room is electric with a different kind of tension today. I can practically feel the sidelong glances and whispers from the other Luna candidates as they fawn over the mysterious bodyguard who’s come out of nowhere.“Who is he?”“He’s so... rugged.”“He can guard my body any day.”I want to gag. Do they have no self-control?Armata, for his part, seems completely unmoved by the attention. Arms crossed over his massive chest, he surveys the room, not l
Armata / LeviAs the sleek black car rolls up the gravel path leading to Calista’s sprawling mansion, her sighs fill the silence that has cocooned us during the drive back from her day out—a luxury she partakes in with the freedom of a bird that doesn’t know its wings could be clipped any second by the lurking hunter.She’s been in a sour mood ever since we left the boutique after her training, a mood that curdled further with every smitten look thrown my way by the store attendants. I get it—she wants to feel normal, unobserved, and my towering presence does nothing but draw more eyes.It doesn’t bother me; my presence isn’t meant to be a comforting one. I’m here to protect, not to pamper or to please.The ride is silent, charged with her silent wrath. I can’t help but find it almost amusing—the way she’s trying to simmer me with glares that I feel but never meet. I keep my eyes on the road, on the shadows between the trees, on the lookout for anything amiss. Her safety is my respon
CalistaSix months have crawled by, and every day with Armata is like living with a personal eclipse — his shadow looms over my every move, blocking out any semblance of normalcy. It’s not hatred that simmers in my chest now; it’s a begrudging tolerance, the kind you afford a storm that refuses to pass. I find small victories in moments he’s not around, though they’re as rare as they are brief.My friends are a lifeline, a connection to a world where being the Alpha’s daughter isn’t my only identity. Six months have done little to dull the edges of my disdain for him, but they have taught me patience and the art of seizing opportunity when it arises.“Cali, it’s now or never,” whispers Zoe, her eyes sparkling with mischief that reflects my own.“Do you think I can actually do it? Get out without him knowing?” My voice is a mix of excitement and nerves.“With that fortress of a man? It’s gonna be tough. But hey, that’s the thrill, right?” She grins, and I can’t help but grin back.“Y
Armata / LeviI stand there in the dim-lit hallway, the fading sound of her door slamming shut echoes like a verdict. I feel the rage boiling inside me, a storm of frustration and concern, all aimed at the reckless whirlwind named Calista. I need to clear my head. The idea of taking her over my knee flashes across my mind—a visceral, inappropriate response that sets my teeth on edge. I crush the thought the moment it surfaces. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s my charge, not someone for me to reprimand, let alone in such a primal way.I take a deep breath, trying to snuff out the fire, reminding myself that she is my responsibility, not a problem to be solved with the sharp edge of discipline. It’s a primal response, one that flashes bright and dangerous before I shove it away. It has no place here, not in my job, not with her.God damn it.I should be out there, scanning the perimeters, checking the shadows for threats, not babysitting a spoiled brat who has the death wish of a
Calisa Packing is a drill I’ve gotten down to an art, zipping up my suitcase in the silence of my room that buzzes with a quietness I don’t usually get to enjoy. The suitcase, all sleek corners and polished leather, seems like overkill for just a week away. But then again, my life’s always been about overkill, hasn’t it? Especially with Armata lurking around, that constant, shadowy presence I’m finally getting a break from.I don’t even know why I think of him now. Maybe it’s because he’s been a little less... Armata-ish lately. I barely notice him anymore. It’s like he’s there but not there, a ghost I’m constantly aware of. It’s unnerving, like the memory of walking in on him in the gym, that night when I couldn’t peel my eyes off the sheer force he’s made of. I mean, the guy is built like a literal God, and I stood there like a deer in headlights. Pathetic, right?I tell myself to knock it off. To stop thinking about the ripple of muscles, the sheer physical power of him. It’s no
Armata / LeviAs the mansion comes into view, a behemoth of stone and opulence, I can feel the slight tremor in Calista’s fingers where they grip my arm. Her face is ashen, eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights — this wasn’t the goddamn wake-up call I wanted for her. Seeing her, usually so untouchable and fierce, clinging to my side like some scared kid, it stirs something strange in me, a mix of anger and something I can’t quite put my finger on.I didn’t want her to get the picture this way. Sure, she needed to understand the shitstorm that is her legacy — the danger that comes with her name. But not like this, not with this crippling fear that’s latched onto her, seeping into her bones.She’s always been a wild one, bucking against my authority, and I’ve always gotten a twisted kick out of the fire that lights up in her eyes when I invade her space. But now, she needs me close, and it fucks with my head how this doesn’t repulse me one bit.As we pull up, Alpha Dimitrios i
CalistaThe mat is cool beneath my palms, the fabric of my gloves worn and familiar. I throw a punch, another, then a kick, feeling the burn in my muscles, the sweet ache that says I’m getting stronger. Every jab, every uppercut, it’s like I’m hitting back at the terror that’s been clutching at my heart since the attack. With every drop of sweat, I’m reclaiming pieces of myself I thought I’d lost.Armata’s standing there, all coach and no-nonsense, watching every move. “Longer reach, Calista,” Armata calls out, his tone as sharp as the snap of my gloves against the bag. “Hit it like you actually want to hurt it.”I grind my teeth and extend my arm with a snarl, my fist connecting harder, imagining it’s the shadow that haunts me, not just a sack of sand. “How’s that for intent?” I challenge between grunts.His laugh is a low rumble, approval lacing his voice. “Good girl,” he says and heat immediately pools in my core.What the hell.I wouldn’t recognize the girl in the mirror now—swea
Armata / LeviStanding there, in the wake of her departure, I’m gripped by a fierce internal storm. Fucking hell. I was so close, too damn close, to crossing a line I’d drawn in the sand from day one. I lean heavily against the balustrade, the cool metal pressing into my palms, trying to ground the chaos inside me.I watch Calista meld back into the sea of her high-society friends, her laughter reaching me even from here, and it’s like a sucker punch to the gut. She’s a siren in a room full of sharks, unaware of the power she holds, even over me.It’s as if that moment between us—charged, close, a hair’s breadth from a kiss—was just a figment of my imagination.But it wasn’t. It was real, and it’s eating me up inside.I rub a hand over my face, the stubble scratching against my palm, and it pulls a self-deprecating laugh from deep within me. What the hell was I thinking? I’m supposed to be her damn protector, her trainer, not some lovesick asshole who can’t keep his shit—or his hands