All Chapters of Between Hate and Fate: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The fire crackles in front of me; flames licking at the sky as Andrei’s pyre burns. The scent of smoke fills the air, and the heat from the blaze is so intense that it almost feels like it’s burning me from the inside out. I stand there, frozen in place, clutching the fabric of my black dress as if it can somehow ground me, somehow stop the spinning inside my head. It doesn’t. Nothing does.Tears blur my vision and I blink them away, refusing to let myself fall apart in front of the pack. I’m their Luna, their leader now, and I can’t show weakness, not even when the man I loved more than anything is nothing but ash and memory. But it’s impossible to hide the way my body trembles, the way every breath feels like I’m suffocating under the weight of the grief crushing my chest.I look up, and there’s Andrei’s face, still so vivid in my mind. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. How he would rest his hand on my belly, even before I told him I was pregnant. I

RuslanThe second I lock eyes with her, my chest tightens, and something snaps deep inside me. No. No fucking way. This can’t be real, it has to be some sick joke. There’s no fucking way the Goddess would curse me like this—mate me to the Luna of the bastard who took everything from me and made me watch.I can feel the bond pulling at me, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. It claws at my insides, trying to drag me toward her, as if my body doesn’t even belong to me anymore. I grit my teeth, my muscles tensing, and fight the urge to give in. It’s not possible. It’s not fucking possible.Her scent hits me again—fucking peaches and honey— it’s something that stirs parts of me I’ve buried for a long time. But I don’t want it. I don’t want her. My mind rebels against the very idea. I look at her, the way her face is twisted in shock, her lips parted, and her hand gripping her chest like she’s trying to stop her heart from breaking out. She’s just as confused as I am, but

The chains bite into my wrists, burning like fire as the silver seeps into my skin. My arms feel like dead weight, hanging uselessly above me, held up only by the restraints that have become a part of me now. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? Time doesn’t exist in this cell. There’s only the darkness, the endless ache in my body, and the gnawing emptiness where food and water used to be.I try to remember when I last ate, but the memory slips away, lost in the fog of pain. My mouth is dry, my throat raw, but even the need for water has faded into something dull and distant. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does. The only thing I can feel now is the burn of the silver and the weight of my past pressing down on me.I close my eyes, letting the darkness swallow me. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I can disappear. But even in the dark, the memories come.Mina. Mila.I see their faces so clearly, so full of life and laughter. The way Mina would chase Mila around th

When I wake up, everything hurts. My head’s pounding, my throat feels like it’s been scraped raw, and my wrists sting with a familiar burn from the silver chains. But the softness beneath me is all wrong. I’m not hanging from the cold, unforgiving ceiling of the cell anymore. No, this... this is a bed. A pristine, clean bed.I blink, my vision blurry, trying to get my bearings. No stone walls, no damp smell, no distant sounds of guards or prisoners. Just silence. My arms are still chained, but they’re lying at my sides now, the cuffs digging into my skin and attached to a long chain. My muscles ache, screaming from the strain of being bound for so long. I want to move, to shift, but I’m too weak. Too drained.Where the hell am I? How did I get here?I try to sit up, but my body protests, the pain shooting through me like fire. Before I can even try again, the door creaks open, and she walks in.Katya.The moment I see her, my blood starts to boil. Her sweet scent hits me first—peaches

The clinic smells of antiseptic and clean linens, the air thick with the sterile atmosphere that’s meant to put people at ease. But I’m far from calm. I sit on the examination table, my fingers gripping the edge of the padded surface, trying to keep my thoughts in check. The healer, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, finishes her check-up, her hands gentle as she measures and prods.“You’re healthy, Luna,” she says softly, smiling in an attempt to reassure me. “The baby’s fine.”Those words should be a relief, but they do little to ease the knot of tension that’s been coiled tight in my chest for weeks. I can barely focus on the good news. All I can think about is the weight of everything on my shoulders.“But,” she adds, her voice growing a little more serious, “you’re under a lot of stress. It’s not good for you, or the baby. You need to take it easy, Luna. Rest when you can.”I manage a nod, though inside, I’m screaming. Take it easy? Rest? How am I supposed to do that when the e