Novels by Valerie snow

QUEENETH’S POVAftermath of ChoiceAfter, nothing feels clean.The air is heavy, sticky with smoke, dust, and something I cannot name. The forest beyond the pack territory shivers under a weight it has never carried before. Wolves are quiet now, unnervingly so. They do not speak. They do not shift. They only look at me, at their knees, at the ground, as if trying to decide if this is punishment or salvation.The Hollow King calls it proof. Proof that I am not weak. Proof that I can bend chaos without breaking. Proof that I can command life and death with a thought. He calls it inevitability, destiny, rightful power. There is a dark satisfaction in his voice, the kind that makes my stomach tighten and my skin crawl. He says he knew all along. That I was always going to do exactly this.The elders call it tyranny. They speak in whispers sharp enough to cut. Their eyes do not leave me, but their words do not carry compassion, only fear. They say I have overstepped, that I am dangerous, t

QUEENETH’S POVThe Weight of CommandI stop the fight.Not with force. Not with strategy. Not with reason. I stop it with a single, unbearable choice.I command them.Not with shouts. Not with gestures. Not with violence. I reach inside, inside the very threads that bind the pack, the invisible cords that connect their hearts to one another, to me. I pull. Softly. Relentlessly. Until every wolf feels it. Until every body, every muscle, every heartbeat recognizes the truth I force them to see.One by one, they drop to their knees. Not in pain. Not because I make them bend. They bend because they remember. They remember that their strength, their loyalty, their blood, belongs to something bigger than their anger, bigger than their fear, bigger than the war they were ready to fight.The sound of the bodies hitting the ground is not a crash. It is quiet. Reverent. Terrifying.I cry while I do it.Not quietly. Not softly. Not like a child hiding in a corner. I cry because this choice costs

QUEENETH’S POVThe Breaking PointEverything breaks.Not slowly. Not softly. Not with warning.It rips apart in pieces too sharp to catch, too loud to ignore.The wards shatter first. Cracks run like veins through the air, sparks flickering against the trees. I can feel the energy twisting, warping, leaving jagged holes in the space around me. My skin prickles, my claws scrape the ground, and every instinct in me screams that nothing will ever be the same.Wolves scream. Not in unison. Not in anger. In terror, confusion, shock. The sound presses into my chest. Each cry hits like a hammer, a drumbeat echoing in my ribs. Some fall mid-step. Some leap too early and twist into unseen obstacles. Every one of them a thread tearing, a life unraveling. I hear it. Every break. Every snap. Every desperate gasp.Amy roars.She does not wait for me to act. She moves faster than thought, a blur of shadow and teeth. And in the instant she loses even a fraction of control, the consequences are devas

QUEENETH’S POVThe First BetrayalI refuse.Not quietly. Not with hesitation. Not a whisper hidden behind fear.I refuse.The Hollow King tilts his head like he expected it. His laugh rolls over the clearing, low and hollow. Not cruel. Not angry. Just… disappointed.The kind of disappointment that cuts deeper than hatred. That makes you want to curl into yourself and hide. But I do not. I stand.He begins to turn, moving with a grace that bends the world around him. Shadows ripple like water. Light fractures into jagged shards. Leaves twist in the air as if the forest itself is following him. My chest tightens. Every instinct screams for me to reach him, to stop him, to strike.Then the first betrayal hits.Not from him. Not from some outside force.From the elders.The very people who swore oaths to protect the balance, to guide the pack, to honor the Moon—they lunge forward with weapons, spells, claws sharpened by fear. Not strategy. Not care. Just blind panic wrapped in authority.

QUEENETH’S POVThe Pact of ShadowsThe Hollow King’s voice does not raise. It does not need to.He speaks and the air tightens. The world around us shrinks to the space between his words and my heartbeat.“Join me,” he says. “End the cycle forever. No more councils. No more wars. No more wolves born to carry roles they did not choose. No more children made for obedience. No more mistakes repeated across generations.”His eyes are patient. Persuasive. He lets the weight of his promise settle over everyone.I feel the pack shift behind me. Their fear is sharp, immediate. They do not move forward. They do not step back. They just wait. Unsure if their lives belong to the story or if the story belongs to them.All it costs is Collins.Not his life. Not his body. Not even his loyalty.His place. His claim as Alpha. The authority he earned through blood and years. The trust the pack has in him. That is the price.I taste iron in my mouth. Blood or panic, I cannot tell. I swallow anyway. It

QUEENETH’S POVThe Truth That Breaks QuietlyHe does not shout it.That is what makes it cruel.The Hollow King turns slightly, just enough to include the pack without ever taking his eyes off me, and speaks like he is explaining something obvious to children who were lied to for too long.“Luna Queens do not rule packs,” he says. “They never did.”The words move through the clearing slowly, touching faces, settling into bones. I feel them land behind my eyes first. A dull pressure. Like a headache you know will not go away by morning.“They reset the world when it grows diseased.”Someone gasps. Someone else laughs once, sharp and scared. No one interrupts him. Not the elders. Not Collins.“Alphas are temporary,” the Hollow King continues. “Strong leaders. Necessary leaders. But still temporary. They rise, they stabilize, they fall. History replaces them like seasons.”I feel Collins then. Not through sight. Through the bond.It tightens. Not painfully. Carefully. Like he is bracing