Novel-novel oleh Vina Kalviné

Yasmine's POV At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. But then the lights flickered—once, twice—and every shadow in the room seemed to crawl closer. The reflection in the mirror behind him shifted, and for a second, I saw something else there—his face, but not his. Eyes like molten copper, a grin that didn’t belong to the man holding me. “Azrael,” I breathed, “you’re scaring me.” He shook his head, stepping back. “I told you not to come close.” The floor beneath him cracked, faint lines of red glowing through the wood. The symbols on his skin pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, and he dropped to his knees, gasping, his hands clutching his head. “Get out,” he groaned. “No.” I moved closer, crouching in front of him. “I’m not leaving you like this.” He looked up at me then, and for a heartbeat, I saw him again—the man who smiled when he thought I wasn’t looking, who brushed the hair off my face like I was something fragile. “Please,” he said. “Then fight it,” I whispere

Yasmine’s POV The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how cold the room felt. Not the kind of cold that comes from an open window or morning air, but the kind that creeps into your skin, quiet and heavy. Azrael wasn’t beside me. The sheets were still warm where he’d been, but the warmth was fading fast. He’d said he thought he saw something by the door last night. Smiled like it was nothing. But the way his voice had sounded, low, distant amd I knew it wasn’t nothing. Something was wrong. I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The curtains moved, even though the windows were closed, and for a second, I thought I heard someone whisper. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks again, but lately, things around him didn’t feel… normal. Sometimes the shadows looked thicker when he walked by. Mirrors turned darker when he stared too long. He’d catch me watching and smile like it was all in my head, and maybe I wanted to believe it was. I stood, my bare feet b

Azrael's POV I woke up with Yasmine in my arms the next morning with a grin on her face. And I was about to step down from the bed, when it all hit me, the wave of what I hated the most. My time was running out, a fuckin countdown, 9 months, when my eyes caught a figure by the door. Mordecai... I slowly shifted away from Yasmine outside the room, anger ebbing at every part of my body. "I never thought the Almighty Azrael would sleep in a room with other Color than black," It taunted. "And the girl, you really think she's your Chance at salvation?" I clenched my jaw, my hand twitching before I could stop it. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, my voice low. “Elyon made sure of that.” Mordecai stepped out of the shadow, his grin stretching too wide for a human face. His eyes gleamed the color of burnt copper, slick and hungry. “You think rules ever applied to me? You forget, brother, I was born from your rage. Wherever you are, I am.” I hated the way he said brother,

AZREAL'S POV Yasmine's smile was a blade, small but sharp, and for the first time in centuries I realized I preferred it to softness. She wasn’t trying to heal, wasn’t begging for mercy — she wanted blood the way a starved wolf wanted meat. And gods, I understood it. I pushed away from the doorway, the boards sighing under my weight. “Shadows are louder than screams,” I said. “He’ll start looking for them everywhere.” Yasmine propped herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose over her shoulders. “You make it sound like an art.” “It is.” I crossed the room, letting the pale light fall across my face. Her eyes tracked me with that familiar tension — part revulsion, part curiosity. I’d stopped trying to name which part was winning. “Fear works best when it doesn’t know when it started or where it ends. A single crack in his certainty… and the rest of him will crumble.” She didn’t argue. That, more than words, told me she was learning. Francis would not die quickly. No — quick wa

AZREAL'S POV We didn’t wait long, by nightfall the list on the table was already worn soft from our hands. Names, numbers, small notes in Yasmine’s hurried script. She tucked it into her journal like a sacred text and looked at me with that same fire I was beginning to recognize — the one that meant she wouldn’t sleep until something moved. “Let’s start with Francis,” she said, tying her hair back. “He’s the easier one. He’s too proud to imagine anyone could reach him.” I leaned against the doorway, arms folded. “You want him paranoid before he loses everything. The paranoia will make him sloppy.” She gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Sloppy means vulnerable.” We started simple — a message. Not from her number, not in her tone, but close enough. Words cut down to bone: I see you. Delivered at a time she knew he would be alone in his office. Yasmine’s fingers hesitated over the screen only once before she hit send. We didn’t wait for the reply. It wasn’t a

AZREAL'S POV She tugged the pendant at her throat, a small habit she’d picked up. “What do you mean by small?” “False sightings,” I said. “A shadow in the corner of his office. A voice on his voicemail that sounds like Yasmine, saying things that only she would know.” I watched her as I listed the ideas. “Documents. Little notes delivered where he can’t help but see them. A file that reappears on his desk after he deletes it. Friends who swear they heard him talking to himself on calls. The absence of sleep eats at the mind like rust.” She smiled then, cold and sharp. “Make him think I’m alive. Make him see me in places I never would be. Make him imagine the things he did.” “Exactly.” I tapped the wooden table once. “And make him watch. We’ll leak his mistakes at first—emails, payment trails, forged evidence implying he’s been embezzling from his own company. Not enough to kill him financially; just enough to get the board sniffing. Then a call from an anonymous source. Then a c

The palace was alive with motion. From the moment dawn brushed its golden fingers over the spires, the air had been filled with the hum of voices, footsteps, and the clatter of servants carrying bolts of fabric, trays of silverware, and garlands of roses. Samantha stood by the window of her chamber, staring at the endless bustle below. The gardens had been transformed into a stage of celebration, where ivory tents bloomed like lilies, and lanterns were strung in lines that shimmered when the wind stirred them. It should have felt magical, a dream realized after so much heartache—but instead, her chest felt heavy. Her reflection in the tall mirror betrayed her thoughts. The white silk gown draped over her figure was exquisite, woven with threads that caught the light like frost under moonlight. The embroidery traced vines and wolves across the bodice, symbols of her rising as both queen’s daughter and Luna-to-be. But in her eyes lingered shadows of unease, the remnants of Elias’s ju

The grand courtroom echoed with the weight of history. Tall columns lined the chamber like silent sentinels, their stone carved with the crests of royal bloodlines. Crimson banners bearing the White Wolf sigil now draped over the Crescent Moon emblem, signaling the final shift of power. At the center stood two wolves bound in silver chains. Alpha John Lockwood, once feared and revered, now gaunt and bruised from his time in the dungeons, lifted his chin with what dignity he had left. Elias, his son, remained hunched, eyes downcast, wrists shaking as the magic-infused chains burned against his skin. The court was silent. The air, thick with anticipation, was suffocating. Samantha stood behind a curtain on the upper tier, alongside her brother, Prince Thorne. From their hidden balcony, she could see the entire room—and every wolf who had once turned their backs on her now forced to bow in the presence of the King. She felt no pity. Only justice. Gabriel stepped forward from the

The door slammed shut behind her, the echo bouncing off the stone walls like the final nail in a coffin. Samantha stared ahead, heart still hammering. The scent of rust and old blood clung to her skin. She could still hear Elias’s voice pleading from his cell—“Forgive me.” But her own voice had been louder, colder. "You were never my fate." The words had settled deep into her bones, severing the last thread that had once tied her to the boy who broke her. As she stepped out of the dark prison hall, the sunlight blinded her. The weight of the past no longer clung to her shoulders—it had fallen to the floor, cold and empty, like Elias’s gaze after her final rejection. Guards trailed behind her silently, escorting her up the grand staircases of the palace. Waiting at the top were her father, King Aldric, and Prince Thorne, their faces solemn. Beside them stood Gabriel, arms folded tightly over his chest, his eyes never leaving hers. No words were exchanged. But when she reached him

The world returned in fragments. A heartbeat. A whisper. The frantic thrum of a bond not yet complete. “Stay with me, please… Samantha—breathe—just breathe.” Gabriel’s thoughts pulsed in her mind like thunder beneath water. Desperate. Raw. His fear coiled around her, dragging her toward the surface of consciousness. Then, a rush of scent—pine, warmth, him—and the deep ache in her shoulder where he had marked her. Samantha's eyes fluttered open. She was in his bed. Dim moonlight filtered through the arched windows of the Alpha’s quarters. Soft sheets clung to her sweat-slick skin, and her limbs felt too light, too heavy all at once. She tried to sit, but Gabriel was there instantly, pressing a hand to her back to steady her. “Samantha,” he breathed, his golden eyes wild with emotion. “You’re awake.” Her throat was dry, her lips cracked. “What… happened?” “You fainted.” His hand cupped the side of her face. “After I marked you. The bond overwhelmed you. I’ve never seen anyt

GABRIEL’S POV The rogue’s claws scraped across the arena floor, its growl a guttural rumble that vibrated through my bones. I stepped in front of my mate, my body tense and shielding, ready to kill. But Samantha’s voice cut through the panic like a blade. “No.” I froze, halfway between shielding her and launching at the creature. “This is my fight,” she said, stepping out from behind me. The rogue’s eyes locked onto her, its lips curling back to reveal bloodied fangs. Whatever mind it had left was lost to rage and madness—but still, it hesitated, as if sensing the power rolling off her in waves. The pack fell into stunned silence, hundreds of eyes watching from the stone benches circling the arena. No one dared speak. I grabbed her wrist. “Sam—” “I have to do this, Gabriel.” Her voice was steady, calm, like moonlight over a storm. “Let them see who I really am.” My grip loosened, gaze burning with reluctance and admiration. “Be careful.” She nodded once and stepped forwa

SAMANTHA’S POV The silence that followed Gabriel’s confession was thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. “I don’t want a Luna,” he said again, his voice raw. He was kneeling before me, eyes fierce with conviction. “I want you, Samantha.” The world tilted beneath me. I stared at him, heart pounding like a war drum. His words cracked something open inside me, a place I had buried deep—where hope dared not live. My lips trembled. “Gabriel... are you sure?” He rose slowly, cupping my face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the tear that escaped my lashes. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” I swallowed hard, then leaned into his touch. “Then I want you too,” I whispered. “But not because I’m the White Wolf. Not because I’m a princess or some prophecy. I want you because... you saw me. Even when I didn’t.” He smiled, the tension in his shoulders loosening as if my words had steadied him. I wasn’t prepared for the kiss he gave me—soft at first, then urge