NARRATORS POVThe air inside the Hollow Pack’s grand council hall was suffocating. Tension clung to the walls like a thick fog, a storm brewing beneath the heavy chandeliers that cast a dim glow over the long oak table. At the head of the table sat Liam Garvalle, his posture one of arrogance, his expression void of remorse. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the polished wood, as if this entire meeting was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.Across from him, Dalton sat trying to remain calm as Alpha of the Riverdale Pack he had to keep his emotion in check and not act on impulse like Liam was doing, but the way his fingers curled into his palm betrayed his growing frustration. He had known Liam for years—fought beside him, defended his decisions even when they were reckless—but today, he saw nothing but a man consumed by pride and something far more dangerous—obsession.The two councils, both from Hollow Pack and Riverdale Pack, were gathered, their expressions
NARRATORS POVAs soon as Alpha Dalton and his council departed, the tension in the council chamber was so intense as to seem almost tangible. The silence stretched as everyone remained silent and waited before Liam finally turned his piercing gaze on the elders before him. His jaw was taut, his shoulders rigid with barely contained frustration."I must say," Liam began, his voice deceptively calm, "I am surprised to see my own council wavering in their stance. Were you truly considering taking Alpha Dalton’s side against me?" His tone sharpened on the last words, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of weakness.Elder Harrick cleared his throat. "It is not about taking sides, Alpha," he said carefully. "Your decision was so abrupt. You cast away an alliance with Riverdale without a second thought. We need allies, not adversaries. Our enemies watch us closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. We cannot afford to be reckless."Liam exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience thin
The warm afternoon sun bathed the small garden in golden light as the laughter of two children echoed in the air. Daniella and Grace sat on a wooden bench, watching their little ones chase each other around the yard. Daniella exhaled, a slow, contented sigh. "They really are something, aren’t they?"Grace smiled, watching Ethan topple onto the grass with a triumphant yell as Sophie tumbled down beside him, both of them breathless and grinning. "They remind me of us when we were little. That same fierce loyalty. Like nothing in the world could ever come between them."Daniella nodded, warmth blooming in her chest. "I hope it stays that way."“Hopefully it will” Grace commented with a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s adorable.”Daniella nodded, her eyes following the children as they tumbled into the grass, giggling uncontrollably. “It really is. Seeing Sophie this happy makes everything feel worth it.”Grace studied her friend’s expression, noticing the slig
It was mid-afternoon when Alpha Dalton and his companions arrived at their pack. He had already called his beta and asked him to inform all the senior officers of the pack about an urgent and impromptu meeting with them as soon as he got back. Immediately he arrived at the Riverdale pack, Dalton strode into the council chamber with the elders that accompanied him to the Hollow pack, he wore a grim expression as he took his seat at the head of the long oak table. The room was already filled with the elders of his pack, as well as his Beta, Humphrey, and Gamma, Tobias including the head of the pack patrol. He took his seat at the head of the long wooden table, fingers steepling as he exhaled slowly. “I won’t waste your time,” he began, his voice firm, cutting through the murmurs. “The meeting with Alpha Liam was a disaster. He has unilaterally decided to cancel our long-standing contract without reason. I don’t need to tell you what that means.”That kind of recklessness isn’t just di
The office was silent, except for the ornate grandfather clock ticking in the corner. Liam sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, his fingers drumming absently against the polished surface. The detective sat across from him, he kept a poker face as he delivered the news."Daniella has a child," the detective said simply. "A little girl. Almost four years old. Her name is Sophie. She was born abroad, Paris precisely."The words struck Liam like a physical blow. He stiffened, his mind momentarily blank as he tried to process the information. His breath hitched slightly, but he masked his reaction well, forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression."A child?" he repeated, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. Liam finally forced himself to look up. “Are you certain?” His voice came out strained, raw.The detective nodded, his expression unreadable. “The records are solid. Birth certificate, hospital documents. She was born abroad, just as I said.”Liam swallowed hard. “And the father?”
Liam shrugged into his coat and stepped out of his office, running a hand through his already tousled hair. His driver approached, opening the car door as per routine, but Liam shook his head."No need, I’ll drive myself tonight," he said, his voice clipped, betraying his mood.The driver hesitated, but with a respectful nod, he stepped back. Liam climbed into his black Honda Jeep, gripping the steering wheel with a quiet sigh. This car—this specific car—had once meant something to Daniella. She’d always preferred riding in it over his other luxurious cars, laughing about how smooth the drive was, how it made her feel free. “I don’t know why, but I really like this one,” she had mused, leaning back in the passenger seat. “It suits you.”He had always ignored her and would usually take another car to undermine her whenever she made the remark.He exhaled sharply, pushing the thought aside. He had no right to dwell on the past—not when he had spent so many years making sure it stayed b
Daniella’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her entire body thrumming with barely restrained fury. How dare he? How dare Liam Garvalle stand there, after all these years, and have the audacity to ask if Sophie was his child? His child?A bitter, humorless laugh clawed its way up her throat as she leveled him with a glare that could have burned through steel. “Are you serious?” Her voice, low and dangerous, wavered only slightly. “You—” she took a step forward, her heels grinding into the pavement, “—who never once acknowledged me as anything more than an afterthought? You, who pretended I was invisible in front of your peers, who never had the decency to call what we had a relationship?” Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to keep going, her voice rising with each syllable. “And now, after years of silence, after breaking me in ways I didn’t even know were possible, you think you have the right to stand in front of me and ask about my daughter?”Liam’s jaw tightened, his
Liam slumped in the grand leather armchair in his study, a half-empty bottle hanging from his hand, its contents sloshing dangerously close to spilling onto the carpet. His tie had been loosened, his shirt unbuttoned, and his once-pristine suit was wrinkled beyond repair. His usually sharp, calculating gaze was now clouded, unfocused.Matilda stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes blazing with barely concealed fury as she took in his disheveled form. The powerful Alpha heir, reduced to this—a pathetic, drunken mess, drowning in his own misery over a woman who was beneath him in every conceivable way. It disgusted her.Liam’s voice broke through the silence, a bitter, slurred mumble. “How could she do this to me? How could she look me in the eye for all those years… and lie?” He let out a harsh laugh, devoid of humor. “Sophie’s not mine? That’s a bloody joke.” He took another swig from the bottle, wincing as the alcohol burned his throat. “She betrayed me. Lied to me. All those times
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
“Arya…” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, quiet but clear, halting Arya’s retreat.Arya stilled, her hand on the door’s iron handle. “What?”Elizabeth swallowed hard, her voice cracking beneath the weight of pain and disbelief. “Why?”Arya paused mid-step. Her fingers curled around the keys at her hip. She did not turn.“Why what?” Arya asked, her voice smooth and clipped, though it carried an edge.“Why go to such desperate measures to get rid of us?” Elizabeth’s voice trembled with hurt and confusion. “Do you hate us that much? Why pretend? Why go so far? Was all of it a lie?”Arya stood still, her back to the bars. For a moment, Elizabeth thought she might walk away, might ignore the question entirely. But then Arya turned slowly, her brown eyes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight.There was a sneer on her face, cruel and cold, but beneath it, Elizabeth saw something else—bitterness, long-nurtured pain, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.“You really want to know?” Arya aske
The damp chill of the underground cell gnawed through Elizabeth’s thin, torn tunic, and the stench of mold and decay lingered in the air like a curse that refused to be lifted.Chains rattled faintly with her every movement, and little Habibah lay curled in her mother’s lap, her breath warm against Elizabeth’s bruised skin. Elizabeth’s fingers ran slowly through her daughter’s tangled curls, each strand a small comfort against the storm of fear in her chest. For a brief, aching moment, there was silence. Suddenly, the silence broke. The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor—slow, deliberate, merciless. Elizabeth stiffened, her hand tightening around Habibah. The child whimpered.A cruel laugh drifted through the air, low and mocking, bouncing off the cold walls like a specter.“No,” Elizabeth whispered, eyes lifting toward the cell bars. “Please, not again.”The shadows moved, shaped themselves into a familiar figure. A woman stepped into the dim torchlight, flanked by three