Novel-novel oleh Torque Stone

The slaughterhouse stank of old blood and wet metal. Hooks dangled from the rafters, stained with history, swinging gently in the restless night air. The floor, cracked and pitted, held the memory of every animal and man that had ever bled for the Pack. This was where the wolves made their laws—and tonight, Eirwen walked straight into their jaws.Domenik Laev was a shadow at her side, suit immaculate despite the city’s chaos, eyes like frost, shoulders squared for war. He walked as if he owned every brick. Laev men ringed them, weapons ready, but silent—their only law the man at their head.Marsel stood at the center, a scar splitting his face, bone mask clutched in one hand. All around him, the Várgr watched. Some still wore their masks. Others let the room see their scars. The old guard and the young, hungry for something to prove.Marsel’s voice broke the hush. “Laev brings the Fulcrum to our table. Does she come as queen, or as a sacrifice?”Eirwen didn’t blink. She let Dom answer

The library was a tomb for secrets. Shadows hung in the air, thick with the scent of dust and burned paper, old ledgers stacked like headstones along every wall. Eirwen had expected cold when the Widow called for her, but this place felt alive—a place where memory was weapon, and every word was a wound.Domenik stood just inside the doorway, arms folded, jaw set hard as iron. He scanned every aisle, every flicker of movement, as if expecting the past itself to lunge from the dark. His presence was the only warmth she trusted.The Widow waited at the far end, her posture regal and cruel. A heavy box rested on the table between them, ancient and battered, marked with the sigils of families long since devoured. Her eyes glinted in the low light—an animal waiting to see how its prey would react.“Eirwen,” she said, voice calm, “do you know why you’re here?”Eirwen shook her head, pulse thrumming with something that wasn’t fear. She didn’t flinch when Dom’s hand settled at her waist—a clai

Laev headquarters felt more like a siege bunker than a throne room. Every corridor buzzed with tension, armored guards lining the walls, security doors locked tight, monitors flickering with static and the city’s restless eyes. If the world thought Domenik Laev’s house could be breached from the outside, it was about to learn how he handled a threat that came from within.Eirwen walked at his side, her heels echoing off marble, every eye in the compound drawn to her. She wasn’t dressed to disappear—she never was. Tonight, her power was visible, but Dom’s claim was even louder: one hand low at her back, fingers splayed, making it clear to everyone who ruled this world.Inside the war room, the Triarch Seraphs waited—three figures in gray suits, faces carved from politics and money. The oldest, Iskander, leaned forward, voice full of acid. “You put the entire district at risk for her. Why?”Dom’s jaw flexed, not with anger, but with the kind of patience that precedes violence. “Because

Bonus Chapter — Domenik’s POV: She was still trembling when I let her go. Not from cold. Not from fear. From something worse. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes — wide and burning. Her pulse thudded beneath the skin of her throat like it was counting down to something. Something final. And when I stepped back, she didn’t slap me. She didn’t run. She just looked at me like I’d cracked something inside her. And I had. The chamber was thick with heat. Red lights stuttered against steel. The sirens had stopped, but the silence they left behind was louder. Too loud. I could still feel her body against mine, the way her hands curled into my coat. She wasn’t fighting. Not really. She wanted it. She wanted me. And that was the danger. Because now? So did I. Lucianus stared at me from the glass wall. Not truly there — just the version of him I kept in reflections. In memory. The voice that never leaves. “You broke the law,” he whispered. “You let her in.” I sat. Hard. Fingers p

Eirwen’s Bonus Chapter: She remembers the smell first—burnt plastic, spilled whiskey, blood on concrete. The city always stank, but that night it was different. Final. The end of everything innocent, if she’d ever had any. The memory comes in flashes, never a full reel: Her father shouting. Her mother crying. The whine of a surveillance drone outside the window. A child’s scream echoing from two floors down—someone else’s terror, not hers. Not yet. She was sixteen, half-wild, already a shadow in her own home. She’d learned how to hide long before the Laev sent their men. Learned to make herself small, to move through silence like a rumor. But there’s no hiding from the men who own your city. Not when they want you erased. She heard the front door crack open. Boots on tile. The heavy, measured pace of men who know exactly what kind of power they carry. She clutched the kitchen knife. She was going to fight. She was always going to fight. Then her father—idiot, hero, liar—s

The Book of Bone & The King Who Lost Her---I. THE BOOK OF BONERecovered from the Várgr Archive — Fifth Generation CopyClassification: Forbidden Lore — For Alpha Eyes OnlyBefore kings carved their silence into the city,before shadows learned to walk upright,before lions forced crowns upon their skulls,there were only two truths in the old world:Blood remembers.Bone obeys.The Bone Well was not constructed—it was uncovered.A hollow formed by ancient pressure in the spine of New Eidolon’s oldest fault line,older than the Covenant,older than the Várgr Pack,older even than Laev’s line of kings.Those who entered did not seek dominion.They sought identity,for the Well reveals not ambition, but truth.Bone has never cared for the aspirations of the living.Only their lineage.---THE PURPOSELong before syndicates and crowns,the Bone Well served as the city’s first measure of worth.Not strength.Not loyalty.Not will.But resonance—the vibration of blood against the city’