Novels by Western.R

Valentina woke before the sun, and ur was definitely not because she was well-rested. Her back ached from the awkward way she’d collapsed across the couch the night before, fully dressed, and half-covered by a campaign jacket she hadn’t had the energy to hang up. Her eyes were dry and so was her throat.She lay still for a few seconds, watching the light shift against the wall. Her first instinct was to reach for her phone. But she didn't.Because she knew what was waiting for her — or rather, what wasn’t.No text from Cam. Still.The last one Val had sent had just said, “Let me know if you need anything.” The one before that, “Hey. Can I drop something off?” Both unread. She had reread them at least ten times in the last twenty-four hours, trying to decide if she’d worded them wrong. If she’d said too much, or too little.But none of it mattered now.Because she knew the reason Cam hadn’t replied probably had less to do with the wording — and everything to do with the address she’d g

Valentina’s heels were off before she made it out of the building. The last outfit change left a thin layer of shimmer across her collarbone and cheekbones — more glitter than glow at this point. A makeup assistant tried to dab her face one last time before she exited, but she waved her off without a word and kept walking. At this point it was too much. One more later of makeup and her face would fall.The sun was starting to go down, casting that golden hour photographers swore by. She didn’t care. She hadn’t cared since the second look. Maybe even before that. The day had blurred into a cycle of camera flashes, laughter, and stylists asking her to “just tilt a little more that way.” Her back ached from holding poses that didn’t feel natural, and her hands were still faintly stained from wiping under her eyes between takes.She definitely did not think this through.The pay, and need for escape enticed her.The parking lot behind the studio was mostly empty, except for a matte black

Alecia hadn't seen sunlight in three days.The curtains were drawn, casting a dull, muted gray over the apartment. Plates stacked near the sink were starting to smell faintly sour. Her room was a cluttered sprawl of open notebooks, loose receipts, and coffee mugs with dried rims. She didn't know when she'd last eaten a full meal. Her mouth tasted like so sour and bitter, and her eyes burned constantly, but every time she got into bed, her mind ran circles around itself until she crawled back out.She lay on the couch instead. Not sleeping, just watching time pass through the soft glow of her TV menu screen. She didn’t turn it on as she didn’t want noise. Noise felt like pressure, and she couldn’t take pressure right now, also all the things on there were probably going to be about Matteo's death, or her whore of a sister trying out the model slash ambassador industry.She just had it all easy.The envelope was in her drawer and she hadn’t touched it in two days, but she hadn’t stopped

Alecia had buried her face into the crook of her arm hours ago, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. The room had sunk into a silence that felt thick and suffocating, and it settled like a film over everything. The windows were open. The curtains shifted in the breeze, she knew it was going to rain.She wasn’t sure how long she’d been curled like that. Her arm had gone numb and her face was swollen and patchy with the last of her dried tears, unrecognizable in the faint reflection on the glass door. She felt weak.And the photo was still in her hand, and pressed into her palm like it had carved itself there.It hadn’t disappeared, no matter how many times she flipped it or looked away. No matter how long she squeezed her eyes shut. It existed—and so did everything it had pulled up from whatever place she’d spent years trying to lock away.FLASHBACKYEARS AGO…It was summer. The estate was tucked somewhere far off in the countryside, wide and sunbleached, meant to be peaceful. But to

The loft was all white walls and wide windows, soaked in soft natural light that made everything look cleaner, richer, and a little too perfect. A curated kind of perfection, carefully scattered greenery in matte black pots, and an entire crew that moved around her like she was a fragile, valuable thing that couldn’t be touched unless necessary.Valentina stood near the window, arms folded loosely while a stylist adjusted the structured lines of her coat. The black fabric was sharp and expensive, tailored to her exact frame. A slash of emerald green cut through it near the waist, just enough to break the monochrome, and make it look bold without trying too hard. She looked like a woman that commanded authority everywhere she went.Which, she assumed, was the point.A foundation campaign for dignity, rebirth, new beginnings… or whatever the slogan had boiled down to. She hadn’t asked questions. Aisha's PR team had sent over the contract with a discreet suggestion and a generous payment

The rain hadn’t started, but the clouds looked like they were holding a grudge.Valentina sat back in the seat of the sleek black car as it turned the final corner toward the building. Her arms were crossed, legs tucked neatly to the side like she wasn’t entirely committed to stepping out yet. Her phone buzzed in her lap—another message from someone asking if she was “okay” or if she’d seen the morning coverage.She hadn’t responded to anyone, even the people she barely knew message her, she was sick with their fake sympathies. She hadn’t even looked in a mirror before leaving the house. The deal had been sitting in her drawer for three days, and she hadn’t even opened the attachment emailed to her after the first skim. But this morning after her small talk with Lucas and the news report, she was so done trying to manually keep her sanity in check.Because honestly, if she stayed home for one more second pacing that hallway, waiting for her father’s name to appear on a headline or Luc

Lyra povI sighed, the sound leaving me like the last breath of a dying thing.“I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” I said quietly, staring at the flickering lantern between us, “but as you can see… I’m not dead.”Draven leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, golden eyes fixed on me like he was trying to read every fracture in my soul.“You’re telling me?” he said, one brow lifting. “From all indications, you were very convincingly dead. Funeral, tears, speeches, a casket, the whole dramatic production.”Then his mouth twitched. “And yet here you are. Breathing. Bery much alive.”A hollow laugh slipped out of me. “Trust Cassien to bury me before I even stopped bleeding.”His jaw tightened at that name.“So it really is true,” he said more softly. “You were running away from your pack.”“Yeah.” I rubbed my palms together, trying to stop them from shaking. “I got tired of him choosing her over me. Over and over again. Every single time I hoped he’d finally see me

Draven POVConfusion sat heavy in my chest from the moment I stepped into the clearing.It wasn’t loud confusion. It wasn’t frantic.It was the slow, sick kind, the kind that crawled under your skin and refused to leave.Because none of this made sense.The pack was dressed in black. Heads bowed. Murmurs hushed. The air was thick with grief and incense and damp earth. But the woman they were burying wasn’t dead.Lyra wasn’t dead.She was alive. Breathing. Healing. Sleeping in my clinic, my clinic, under my protection.Yet here I was, standing among mourners, watching her name carved into a temporary wooden plaque.Luna Lyra of Silverfang Pack.My jaw clenched.If she was alive… then who the hell were they burying?The procession moved slowly, one by one stepping forward to pay their last respects. I followed with the rest, my boots sinking slightly into the soil as I approached the open casket.I braced myself for the sight of her.Prepared to see pale skin. Blood. Stillness.Instead

TESSA'S POVThe vampire cultural center was gorgeous, all dark wood and elegant architecture that paid homage to centuries worth of vampire aesthetic tradition. I stood in the main hall watching vampires young and old peruse displays of vampire history, art and ways.“The is amazing,” Lady Cassandra murmured, moving through the gallery of vampire paintings and sculptures. I was afraid that integration would mean wiping out our culture altogether. But this celebrates it."“Integration is not erasure,” I told them. "It means evolution. Celebrating your roots while making a connection with others.”An old vampire walked up and his time-ravaged eyes welcomed the exhibits. “Back in my day, I would have never imagined a group of young vampires giving a shit about our history. Many were so busy trying to be modern, and shedding everything in the past.”They felt that tradition and change were opposites,” I said. "We're showing them you can have fun with what makes vampires special and open

Lyra pov I woke up to the feeling that my skull was being split in two.At first, all I could hear was a dull ringing in my ears, like I’d been dropped into the middle of a storm. My eyelids felt heavy, glued shut, but panic clawed its way up my chest and forced them open.White.That was the first thing I saw. White ceiling. White lights. White walls.Where the hell…?I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to sit up. Instant regret.Pain exploded behind my eyes, hot and blinding. A cry ripped out of me before I could stop it, and my hand flew to my head. My fingers brushed against thick bandages wrapped around my skull.“What..” I whispered hoarsely.Then the rest of the pain hit me. My ribs screamed when I breathed too deeply. My arms felt heavy and bruised. My legs ached like I’d been trampled by a stampede.I forced myself to look around. A bed. A metal IV stand. A small table with neatly arranged medical tools. Pale curtains.A clinic.I was at a pack clinic. Cold dread flooded m

Cassien POVI did not sleep.Not really.I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling while Sable’s soft, even breathing filled the room beside me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lyra’s face the way it had looked the night before she disappeared, guarded, wounded, still stubbornly proud even as I’d torn into her with my words. I kept hearing her voice in my head. Kept seeing the way she’d looked at me when I accused her of something so ugly.What if that was the last thing I ever said to her?My wolf paced inside me, restless and frantic, scraping at the inside of my chest like it wanted to tear free. Mate. Mate. Mate. The word kept echoing through me, a low, aching pulse that wouldn’t quiet.When the sky finally lightened, I felt like I had aged a year in a single night.At exactly eight, a knock came at the door. One of the messengers bowed quickly.“Alpha, the council of elders requests your presence. Immediately.”I was already on my feet.Sable stirred. “Cassien?” she murm

Cassien POV Morning came like a punishment. Not gentle. Not forgiving.For a moment, I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet movements of the house waking around me. Servants moving around Guards changing shifts. I sat up slowly, rubbing my face, the events of the previous night crashing back into me with brutal clarity.Her eyes when I’d said all those hurtful things. The way she’d gone quiet. How quietly she’d left without a fuss.Guilt slid under my skin like a blade.I took a deep breath, hoping to catch her scent… Even a bit of it, but none drifted from the sheets or even the wardrobe. Everything had been overpowered and taken by sable, and it went to show how far I’d pushed away my Luna. My guilt deepened even more.I should have followed her.I should have stopped her.Instead, I’d turned away.“Idiot,” I muttered under my breath.Sable too was nowhere to be seen. She'd probably headed down to inspect breakfast. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “Dam