I stared at Liam’s broad back as he settled onto the couch, his muscles tense, his face turned away from me. The unspoken message was clear: he wasn’t in the mood for another argument.Coward-I musedMy fingers curled into fists as frustration surged through me. Four years. Four long years I had stood by his side, played the role of the perfect partner, tolerated his cold moods and his infuriating silence. And yet, he still refused to make me his Luna. Still refused to give me the one thing I deserved after all my patience.I had no intention of being like Daniella. That weak, pathetic girl who had wasted seven years waiting for Liam to wake up and claim her. And where had that gotten her? Nowhere. She had vanished into thin air, and Liam had moved on without a second thought. Or at least, that was what I told myself.But the truth gnawed at me.Because for all his indifference, for all his apparent disinterest, I saw it—the way his gaze sometimes drifted, the way a shadow of somethin
LIAMS POVThe flight back to New York felt longer than it should have. Paris had been exhausting, not because of the city itself but because of Matilda. She had been insufferable, whining about how I wasn’t paying enough attention to her, complaining about how I still hadn’t marked her, and bringing up Daniella’s name far too many times for my liking.I had thought a lavish trip, designer shopping sprees, and five-star dining would pacify her—like it always did. But this time, she was relentless. The moment we landed, I wanted nothing more than to return to my penthouse, pour myself a drink, and have some goddamn peace.As soon as the car pulled up to my estate, I stepped out without offering Matilda so much as a glance. I could hear her irritated huff behind me, but I didn’t care. But the second I stepped into my home, that small desire was shattered.Sitting in my living room were my mother, my sister Jessica, and two of the eldest members of the pack’s council—Elder Harrington an
I was now sure that their was a gang up against me because as soon as my mother and her entourage left, my phone rang. The moment I saw Alpha Seth’s name flashing on the screen, a deep sigh left my lips. I had expected this call. The man had been pressing for an official mating between Matilda and me for years, and after the Paris trip, which had been more of a test of patience than a vacation, I knew he wouldn’t wait much longer.I considered ignoring it, but I knew better. Alpha Seth was not the kind of man who took silence as an answer. With a clenched jaw, I swiped to accept the call and put the phone to my ear.“Alpha Seth.” My voice was calm, and measured.“Liam,” his voice boomed through the speaker, all pretense of pleasantries discarded. “I assume you’re back from your little vacation with my daughter.”I closed my eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. “Yes, we are back in the city.”“Good. Then I take it you’ve finally come to your senses and are ready to mate Matilda and make her
LIAM'S POVThe decision had already been made. No matter how much it frustrated me, no matter how much my gut twisted in protest, I had made my choice. The pack came first. Always.As I stepped out of my car in front of the grand new jewelry store, I let out a slow breath, collecting my thoughts. The city was alive tonight, filled with flashing cameras, the hum of conversations, and the steady beat of luxury and wealth converging on one of the most anticipated store openings of the year. The brand had already built an impressive reputation, known for exquisite craftsmanship, rare gemstones, and unparalleled elegance. I wasn’t the type to indulge in such events, but attending tonight served a purpose.It was the kind of event Matilda would have insisted on attending, and for a fleeting moment, I was glad she had been too preoccupied with something else to accompany me.The evening air buzzed with anticipation. There were flashes from photographers, murmurs of admiration from guests dre
LIAM’S POVI moved through the lavish space with a practiced indifference, my eyes scanning the crowd as I sipped from my glass of whiskey. The moment I spotted her standing alone by one of the tall windows, my body tensed. It had been years since I had seen her up close, and damn if Daniella Thornhill didn’t look as effortlessly stunning as ever.I approached her silently, my steps measured and deliberate. She was lost in thought, her gaze focused on the city lights beyond the glass, her figure poised and elegant. I stopped just behind her, close enough to let my presence be known, and when she finally turned, my lips curled into a smirk.“You look good,” I murmured, my voice dripping with the same arrogant confidence I had always wielded around her.Daniella didn’t flinch, nor did she let any surprise cross her face. Instead, she met my gaze with cold, unreadable eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Garvalle,” she replied smoothly, her tone formal, distant.The polite address sent an immediate fla
LIAM’S POVI stood frozen in place, fists clenched at my sides as I watched Daniella walk away, her back straight, her posture unwavering, as if our exchange hadn’t affected her in the slightest. My jaw tightened, and my wolf snarled in frustration.Daniella Thornhill.She was infuriating.That cold, detached tone. The way she had called me “Mr. Garvalle,” as if I was nothing more than a stranger. The condescending smirk on her lips before she turned her back on me. It was like she was deliberately mocking me, rubbing salt into wounds I didn’t even realize I had.I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. My pride was bruised, my patience worn thin. My entire body hummed with anger, my wolf restless beneath my skin, itching to lash out.She had slapped me.She had actually slapped me.And I had let her.I should have put her in her place. I should have said something to cut through her icy indifference. But instead, I had watched her walk away like some defeated fool.I reach
Daniella’s POVA surreal feeling so overwhelming filled me as soon as I stepped into my boutique, my heart pounding with excitement and nervous anticipation. Tonight was the night—the grand opening of Joshill Jewelers, my dream brought to life. Everything was perfect—from the elegant golden chandeliers casting warm light over the polished glass display cases to the soft classical music playing in the background. The staff moved around with precision, making last-minute adjustments, and outside, I could already hear the growing murmur of the guests arriving. This was it. I had worked for this moment. I had bled for this moment. And yet, standing here, dressed in an elegant champagne-colored gown, my fingers grazing the delicate necklace I had designed myself, I felt the familiar tug of the past creeping in. New York. The city I had fled from. The place where I had once lost myself—where I had loved a man who never loved me back.The memories hit me even though they were u
Daniella’s POVThe night had been perfect.The grand opening of Joshill Jewelers had exceeded my expectations. The boutique was filled with influential guests, business moguls, and high-profile clients, all marveling at the craftsmanship of our designs. I had spent the evening moving from conversation to conversation, gracefully accepting compliments, and basking in the success of everything I had built from nothing.This was my moment.My rebirth.But then, he came.Liam Garvalle.I felt his presence before I even saw him.It was an unsettling thing, how my body still reacted to him, how my senses recognized him even before my eyes landed on his tall, commanding figure. He hadn’t changed. If anything, he looked sharper, crueler. The crisp black suit molded to his powerful frame, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd with an arrogance that hadn’t dimmed in the slightest.I swallowed hard and turned away, pretending I hadn’t seen him.Not tonight.Not when I had fought so hard to move pa
WEDDING DAYThe sun rose that morning with a golden brilliance, casting its warmth over the Garvalle estate and bathing everything in a honeyed glow. There was a pulse in the air—a quiet buzz of anticipation that seemed to stretch into the trees, shake the birds from their nests, and awaken every wolf in the pack with a shared thought:Today was the day Daniella and Dalton were getting married.The pack had begun preparing days ago, but this morning, everything snapped into focus. The pack house, usually a center of training and council, had been transformed overnight into something magical. Banners in silver and deep forest green—the Hollow pack colors—fluttered gently in the breeze. Strings of delicate fairy lights were wrapped around the towering pine columns that lined the courtyard, and clusters of white roses were being fastened to every banister, doorframe, and post with painstaking care.In the great hall, pack members bustled with purpose, laughter echoing off the walls as fi
A DAY BEFORE THE WEDDINGThe grand hall of the Pack's estate buzzed with anticipation. Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass windows, casting vibrant mosaics of gold, crimson, and indigo across the polished marble floor. The scent of lavender and pine—blended with the faintest trace of ceremonial incense—drifted through the air, adding a sacred hush to the magnificence of the space.At the arched entrance beneath the crest of the Crescent Moon, Alpha Reid stood tall in a dark, ceremonial coat lined with silver embroidery. Beside him, Luna Maeve wore a flowing gown of midnight blue, the fabric catching the light like liquid stars. Her long auburn hair was pinned back with silver combs shaped like crescent moons, echoing the pack’s symbol and legacy.Reid adjusted the cuff of his jacket, casting a sweeping glance across the ballroom. His normally impassive face showed a rare flicker of uncertainty.“They’re all coming,” he said, his voice low but edged with tension. “Alph
PRESENT TIME (SOPHIE AND DANIELLA)Life didn’t snap back to normal the moment they walked through the front door, but little by little, Sophie and Daniella found their rhythm again.The mornings, once quiet and still, began with the familiar hum of the kettle and the comforting scent of chamomile and cinnamon. Daniella would wake before Sophie, padding through the house in her slippers, letting the silence settle around her. It helped her breathe—helped her remind herself that they were safe now.Sophie, once hesitant to leave her mother’s side even for a minute, slowly began venturing back into her own room, her laughter gradually returning. At first, she trailed behind Daniella like a shadow—silent, watchful—but eventually, she returned to her books, her sketches, the odd habit of humming while brushing her hair.They kept things simple in those first few weeks. Grocery runs were done together, hand in hand. They cooked meals with music playing in the background—sometimes jazz, some
Alpha Czar sat in his high-backed leather chair, a sealed ivory envelope resting in his palm. His fingers traced the wax seal embossed with the sigil of the Riverdale Pack—a howling wolf curled beneath a crescent moon. The letter had arrived just before dawn, hand-delivered by a warrior.Curiosity had flickered in his chest when he first opened it. Now, as his eyes scanned the invitation again, something strange unfurled in his chest—something old and aching.Together with their families, Alpha Dalton of the Riverdale Pack and Daniella Thornhill cordially invite Alpha Czar of the Emerald Pack to celebrate their union in marriage. The ceremony will be held under the full moon on the 14th of August, at twilight, in the sacred glade of Riverdale. A reception will follow under the stars. Your presence would honor us.Czar read it twice. Then a third time. He had received a personal invite, out of respect and a longstanding alliance with Alpha Reid, Dalton’s father.As his eyes
FIVE YEARS AFTER HIS LOSSAlpha Czar stood at the edge of the valley with his hands clasped behind his back. The scent of pine and frost filled his lungs, but it brought no comfort—not tonight. Not after all this time.He had come here on the same night every year for the past five years. A ritual of sorts. A silent vigil in the hope that the wind would change, that the earth would stir and return what had been stolen from him.His mate. His daughter.The memory still struck him with sharp, unforgiving clarity. One moment he had held her in his arms, his tiny daughter wrapped in her mother’s scent, warm and cooing softly against his chest. The next, there had been chaos—blood everywhere, screams in the darkness, and an aching silence that had never truly left him.He had searched every region, crossed every territory, called in every favour he was owed. Elders, seers, witches—he had begged them all. But each trail ran cold. And now… he was done.“I can’t do this anymore,” Czar murmure
The first thing Daniella remembered was warmth.After weeks—perhaps months, she couldn’t be sure—of cold stone, rough rope, hunger, and fear so constant it felt like a part of her skin, the heat of the blanket around her was a shock. Her eyelids fluttered as light seeped through, soft and golden, nothing like the oppressive dimness of the place she’d been held. For a moment, she didn’t move. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, the illusion would shatter and she would find herself back in that place again, chained to fear.But then came the sound of gentle voices—real voices, not threats or barked orders. The lilt of care, the rhythm of kindness. And something else… laughter. Childish, light, and echoing through walls that didn’t drip with damp or desperation.Daniella's eyes snapped open.She sat up too quickly, and her ribs protested with a sharp ache. The pain was grounding, almost reassuring. She was real. Alive.The room was simple, but clean and cozy. Pale cream walls, a
Elizabeth’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body slack against the cruel embrace of the experimental chair. Straps bit into her raw skin, long since chafed and torn, yet she no longer felt the pain. Her nerves had dulled, her senses numbed. She was more spirit than flesh now, drifting between worlds, untethered.Her head lolled to one side, dark strands of matted hair clinging to her sweat-soaked skin. Her once vibrant eyes, those fiery defiant eyes that had once shown with life and love, now stared at the ceiling—glassy, distant, the fight flickering out like the last glow of an oil lamp. There was no screaming anymore, no struggling. They had taken everything from her—her strength, her dignity, her voice.Yet within the silence, her mind slipped somewhere far from the sterile hell around her.She was eight again.The scent of wildflowers filled her nose, and golden sunlight poured through the trees of the glen behind her childhood home. Her mother laughed—a light, airy sound that
The cell was always cold.No matter how long Elizabeth stayed there—days, weeks, years perhaps—her bones never grew used to the damp chill that seemed to cling to her skin like a second layer. The air was thick with mildew and rot, and the stone walls wept with condensation. The silence, when it fell, was almost worse than the screams that came before.She heard the iron door screech open again, and her blood ran colder.“No,” she whispered, her body trembling already from the day before. “Please—please not again.”Heavy boots approached. A gloved hand reached down and grabbed her by the arm—an arm so bruised and battered it barely felt like her own anymore—and dragged her out. She cried out as her knees scraped the rough stone floor.The guards always ignored her pleas.Elizabeth was hauled into the chamber again—the room that smelled of blood, fire, and wet leather. Chains hung from the ceiling like spiders waiting to pounce. A rusted grate in the floor whispered of what had already
The cell door creaked open with a groan that echoed through the narrow corridor, the iron hinges protesting the movement. Arya stepped out, her heeled boots clicking sharply against the damp stone floor. Her posture was elegant, commanding—her chin tilted ever so slightly upwards in that familiar way that made her seem like royalty in a place that reeked of rot and fear.She turned to the guards, her lips curling into a tight smile.“Lock the cell,” she ordered coolly without glancing back. “I don’t want any accidents.”The guards nodded silently and pushed the thick iron door shut with a deep metallic clang. One of them turned the key with a rough twist, and the deadbolt snapped into place with finality. Arya stood still for a moment, watching them with feigned patience, her hands clasped lightly behind her back.“The trial is scheduled, correct?” Arya asked in a silk-smooth tone, as if she were inquiring about afternoon tea, not the brutal torment of another living being.“Yes, my