Novel-novel oleh Cherish

FIVE YEARS LATER The house was loud. Not the kind of loud that came with danger or panic, the kind that came with chaos, children, and one absolutely unhinged uncle. I leaned against the kitchen doorway, pinching the bridge of my nose as a high-pitched shriek echoed through the hall. "MILO! TELL THEM TO LEAVE MY WOLF PLUSHIE ALONE!" That was Rowan, my son. One half of the twins. Wild like fire, sharp like a whip, stubborn like... well, me. "No!" his sister Aria snapped back. "It's mine now! You said I could hold it!" "I SAID YOU COULD HOLD IT, NOT KIDNAP IT!" Before I could intervene, Nicole popped out from behind the couch holding a tray of cookies and wearing a ridiculous apron. "Children!" he announced dramatically. "You must learn the ways of negotiation. Aria, demand concessions. Rowan, threaten war. This is very simple." "Nicole," I groaned, "stop encouraging them." "Encouraging?" Nicole gasped, fake-offended. "I'm educating them. These are valuable life skills. One

The sky was gray. Not stormy, not weeping, just gray. Quiet. Still. Like even the heavens didn’t know how to mourn a girl who’d been both victim and villain in the same heartbeat. Tasha was buried beside our father. Not among the pack members, not in the honoured stone-ring… but here, on the outer ridge, where traitors were laid to rest. A lonely patch of earth with no carved memorials, no polished stones. Just soil. Just silence. I stood between the two graves — the father who abandoned us, and the sister who betrayed me — with a bouquet of white moon lilies clutched in my hands. “I hope the goddess forgives you,” I whispered, kneeling. “Both of you.” I placed the lilies on Tasha’s grave first. My fingers trembled as I brushed the freshly packed soil. “You deserved better than the demons in your head,” I murmured. “I hope they leave you alone now.” Then I placed a single flower on my father’s grave. “For what it’s worth… I forgive you too. Not because you deserve it, but bec

I sit on the edge of my bed, fingers knotted in the blanket, staring at the floor like it might open and swallow me whole. Morning light cuts across the room in pale, cold stripes. I don’t feel broken. I don’t feel guilty. I don’t feel much of anything. Just hollow. A faint knock comes. I don’t answer. The door still opens. My mother steps inside, shoulders rigid, eyes red but strangely steady. Cassian stiffened beside me. He hadn’t left my side once. He’d held me close, whispering reassuring words. ‘Should I send her away?’ His voice drifted through the mind link. I shook my head softly. He nodded, kissed my forehead, and left us. ‘I’ll be downstairs.’ “Talia,” my mother says quietly, the moment the door shuts. I say nothing. She hesitates before sitting in the chair across from me. For a long moment, she just studies me, or maybe she studies the damage she helped create. I can’t tell. “I’m not here to lash out,” she finally says. “I’m not here to accuse you.” I keep

My scream wouldn’t stop. It tore out of me in a jagged, animal sound, my chest heaving as I clutched Tasha’s limp body against me. My tears blurred everything: trees, sky, her face. All I could hear was the echo of her last breath, the whisper of a girl I grew up with turning cold in my arms. What I felt wasn’t guilt, it wasn’t self-blame. It was something worse. A mourning so sharp it felt like it was peeling my ribs apart from the inside. A grief twisted with betrayal and the hollow ache of someone realising that the person they loved… had never loved them the same way. “T–Tasha…” I choked, my voice breaking on the name. “Why?” The word crumpled into the forest floor. Before I could breathe again, I heard a crack. A rush of steps, a heartbeat I would recognise anywhere. Cassian. He didn’t call my name. He couldn’t. The panic he felt through the bond was too much, it dragged him, pulled him, ripped him through the trees until he stumbled into the clearing and saw… Everythi

Tasha lunged. I ducked out of the way in time, barely escaping. Her movement was slow, hesitant. I breathed hard, staring at her in disbelief. She lunged again. This time there was no hesitation, no wavering grief, no flicker of humanity. Just cold intent. I dodged, barely, feeling the blade slice a burning line across my upper arm. My vision blurred with pain, but something inside me... shifted. A low hum pulsed beneath my skin, warm and electric, like the air before a storm. My wolf stirred sharply, not in fear... but in readiness. "Tasha," I panted, backing away, hands up. "You don't want to do this—" "Oh, but I do!" she snapped, voice warping into something sharp and cracking. "I've waited too long for this!" She swung again, aiming for my throat. This time, I didn't move out of fear. I moved because instinct took over. My hand shot up and caught her wrist mid-swing. Her eyes widened. The blade trembled between us. "What..." she whispered. "Since when are you this

Tasha didn’t stop chattering. She rambled about everything: Mum, her friends, the pack house, even the weather. Normally she was talkative, but this was different. This was frantic. I knew her well enough to recognise the signs. She was nervous. About something. Her eyes kept darting across the trees, her gaze flicking left to right too quickly, like she was tracking invisible threats. When I pointed it out, she claimed she was watching out for wild animals… but the slight skip in her heartbeat told me everything I needed to know. Something was off. Very off. I slowed to a stop, pretending to need a break. She nodded a little too fast, walking ahead to “scan the trail again.” Her shoulders were stiff, her posture coiled tight like a spring waiting to snap. “Speaking of friends… how’re you holding up with the Kira situation?” I asked, testing her. She shrugged, the movement too stiff, too controlled. “I’m fine. She got what she deserved. She killed pack members to cover her tracks

The forest had swallowed us whole.For three days, Amaya and I had moved through the trees like shadows, bruised and starving, every step a battle against the ache in our bones. The fire that had gutted the hall was long behind us, but the scent of smoke still clung to my hair, my skin, my memories. I could feel it every time I closed my eyes.We hadn't stopped long enough to rest properly. Sleep came in fits, stolen in hollows and shallow caves, broken by the crack of branches or the distant cry of wolves. Hunger gnawed at us, but worse than that was the silence, Ciro's silence. That empty place where my bond had once burned was a wound that no amount of running could heal.By the third day, my legs moved on will alone. My body screamed to give up, but Amaya was relentless. She pulled me forward with the same iron grip she'd had that night, refusing to let me collapse into the dirt."Jas," she whispered as we trudged along a narrow path littered with pine needles. Her voice was hoars

The night smelled of smoke and blood.My lungs burned with every breath as Amaya and I stumbled through the trees, the glow of fire behind us staining the sky red. The hall was gone, swallowed by the destruction I'd unleashed, but I could still hear the chaos, the howls, the screams, the furious cries of those who'd survived.And they would come for us.Branches whipped against my face as I ran, but my legs were heavy, my body barely holding itself together. Amaya was beside me, her arm looped under mine, dragging more than guiding. She was bruised, battered, bleeding from her temple, but her grip was iron."Don't stop," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Not yet. Keep moving."I wanted to tell her I couldn't. That my ribs felt like they'd been shattered, that my heart was ripping itself apart with every beat. But I couldn't form the words. My mouth was dry, my throat raw, my chest tight.And worse, my mark was gone.I reached for it again, like I had a hundred times since Duncan sho

They didn't even bother to speak to me when they came. Just a group of maids, their eyes hollow, their grips iron. They stripped me out of the rags I'd been left in and shoved me into a gown, long, white, mocking purity. My body screamed with every tug of fabric against my bruises, but I bit down on the pain and stayed silent.The dress wasn't for me, work for me. It was for him.When they were done, they wrenched my arms behind my back, rope biting into my wrists. Two of them dragged me through the corridors. The air reeked of smoke and sweat, of fear, and something darker that made my skin crawl.They threw open the doors to a vast hall. The hall was brightly lit with a huge chandelier. The room was filled with wolves, rogues, council defectors, faces twisted with eagerness to watch. And at the centre, on a dais like a king, sat Duncan.He smiled when he saw me.The crowd quieted as I was shoved forward, stumbling until I dropped to my knees before him. My wrists burned against the

The door opened, and I didn't even have the strength to turn. My body ached, my ribs screamed with every breath, and my mind was still unraveling from Duncan's poisonous words.Then I heard a laugh, sharp and cold. It twisted my insides. Tilda.She strolled inside as though she owned the place, her heels clicking against the floor in a deliberate rhythm. She took her time, circling me like a predator toying with prey."Look at you," she sneered. "The great Luna curled up like a beaten dog. I almost pity you." She crouched, her face inches from mine, her eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Almost."I finally raised my head, slowly, intentionally. My face was swollen, my lips split from biting back the tears, but I forced the corners of my mouth into the faintest smile. "Is this what you do to feel important? Kick around the broken?"Her smirk faltered, just for a second.I leaned into it. "Duncan keeps you around because you're useful, not because you matter. You're a tool, Tilda. Not

"Ciro?" My voice was barely a whisper, my throat closing around the name. He didn't stir.Isabella shook him harder, her hands trembling. "Wake up! Damn it, Ciro, wake up!" Her sobs cracked through the air, raw and jagged, the sound of someone breaking. Tears streaked her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his chest, her cries echoing down the hall.I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My body felt like stone, rooted to the floor, staring at the sight that shouldn't—couldn't—be real. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it would split open."What... what happened?" I whispered, but no one heard me. Or maybe no one cared to answer."Jasmine!"Amaya's voice cut through the haze, sharp and urgent. Suddenly she was there, grabbing my arm, yanking me back from the nightmare. "We have to go—now!"I stumbled after her, numb, my feet barely keeping up as she dragged me through the corridors. The walls blurred, Isabella's cries still ringing in my ears, carved into my bones."No

The room suddenly became stiff, small, almost closing in on me. Time slowed down drastically and my breathing became heavier.I felt it, being yanked out of my body suddenly and thrown towards the door. I shut my eyes, expecting to collide with the door but instead, I heard... sobs?My eyes flew open automatically, a sudden breeze hitting me. I wasn't in my room anymore.I was outside, where I had left them.Ciro was there, collapsed on the ground, his body limp, his face pale. My chest caved at the sight, the air torn from my lungs. Isabella was beside him, cradling his head, her sobs cutting through the silence like jagged glass.What?"No” The word ripped out of me, raw and desperate. I lurched forward, every instinct screaming to reach him, to touch him, to stop this, whatever it was. But my feet wouldn't move fast enough, like the air had thickened into water, dragging me back.The grass beneath me blurred, Isabella's sobs echoing, repeating, as if the world itself had narrowed t