The fire in the hearth crackled behind her, but Carlos’s wife stood frozen in place, staring at the door that had just slammed shut behind her husband. His footsteps had faded into the darkness of the hallway, but the echo of his glare—sharp, unforgiving—still burned in her chest like acid.She had only said it because she was worried.Because she had seen the way Luca’s golden eyes followed the girl—the werewolf girl, Kael’s daughter. Ashara.“He’s attracted to her because of her blood,” she had whispered, her voice laced with something between fear and jealousy.But the moment the words left her lips, Carlos had turned. His ancient eyes—cold as glacier stone, wise beyond time—had pinned her in place. He didn’t shout. He didn’t curse. He didn’t strike her with words or hands. But the silence that followed his stare screamed louder than fury.The conversation ended right there.Now she stood alone in the grand hall of their forest-bound mansion, her arms wrapped around herself despite
Carlos stood up from beneath the ancient tree, his body tense, eyes distant as the memory of Alara’s voice echoed through his mind. The wind stirred his dark coat as he vanished in a blur—faster than any beast, silent as a shadow—racing through the woods. The forest parted for him like it remembered who he was, who he had been, and what had been stolen from him in silence and sacrifice.His mansion came into view, hidden deep within the thickets of wild forest where even sunlight feared to enter. The tall gothic structure stood proud and cold, framed by frost-covered pines and thick mist swirling like ghosts around its stone base. Its towering spires sliced into the sky, black against a silver moon. This was the home of the vampires who bore the name of Carlos—the purebloods, the unaging, the untouchable.In the backyard, carved out with towering hedges and ancient marble columns, five figures moved like whispers under the veil of night. The vampires didn’t sleep—they hadn’t in centur
Ashara opened her eyes the moment she sensed the shift in the room’s energy. Her father had just left, the heavy sound of the front door closing echoed faintly through the walls. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim golden glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Her body was still aching, not from injury, but from the weight of humiliation and fear she’d endured earlier.The first thing she saw was Zev—sitting quietly in a chair near the window, arms folded, eyes lost in the darkness beyond the glass. His profile was somber, unlike his usual teasing and lively self. He was still in the clothes he wore during the confrontation, and his hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his hand through it too many times.“Zev…” Her voice was soft, uncertain. He turned toward her immediately.Ashara gave him a fragile smile. “Thank you… for letting me stay here tonight.”Zev’s eyes met hers, but instead of the usual warmth, there was something else—something unreadable. He gave a faint nod, n
Ashara sat curled in Zev’s arms, her face buried in his chest as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Zev held her tightly, his chin resting gently on her head, his fingers stroking her back in slow, soothing motions. Around them, Zev’s friends gathered, their usual teasing demeanor replaced with quiet concern. No one said much—what words could possibly undo the pain of a father’s slap or the weight of nearly crossing into death’s grasp?Ashara had walked into a storm, into forbidden land, into the heart of vampire territory—into hell. And somehow, she had come back unharmed. That alone was a miracle.“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse against Zev’s shirt.“You’re okay now,” Zev murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”Ranan stood just behind them, arms crossed over his chest, his face unreadable. Even he, strict and loyal as he was, couldn’t bring himself to scold her—not yet. Not when she looked so fragile, like a leaf a
Carlos opened the passenger door and stepped out first, letting the crisp river wind brush past him. The surrounding trees whispered under the pressure of the breeze, carrying the scent of pine, water, and something more fragile—fear. Ashara remained frozen in her seat, her breath shallow as she clutched the door frame with trembling fingers.She saw them.Across the river, standing in a tight line, was her father, Kael—his expression unreadable but his stance like iron. Zev was beside him, tense, fists clenched at his sides, eyes never leaving her. Behind them stood Ranan, Zev’s father, and a few of Kael’s most trusted friends. All were silent, still as stone, watching.Their gazes weren’t just angry. They were disappointed. Cold.Ashara’s heart plummeted into her stomach.“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I can’t go out there.”Carlos glanced toward the group across the river, then back at her. He didn’t press. He simply extended his hand, palm open,
The wind howled through the trees lining the riverbank, stirring Kael’s cloak as he stood like a statue on the eastern edge of the border—the invisible line that separated his world from the vampires’. His amber eyes were locked on the misty stretch beyond the rushing waters, where his daughter had unknowingly crossed. His jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides.She should’ve been back by now.Zev stood beside him, silent but alert. His friends lingered nearby, tension written across their young faces. Even Ranan, Zev’s father, was unusually somber, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched Kael pace.Kael’s steps faltered suddenly, his breath catching as he moved toward the water’s edge. One more step, and he’d be violating the sacred pact written generations ago in blood.“Kael, stop.”It was Ranan who moved first, stepping forward to block him. “Don’t be reckless,” he said calmly but firmly.“She’s my daughter!” Kael’s voice cracked. “She’s out there alone—surrounded