Novels by Rarejewel

"You're not leaving until you tell me what that meant."Wren was already halfway to the gate when I caught her arm. She stopped, but she didn't turn around right away."What did you mean?""That look on? your face back there. You know something you're not saying.""I don't know anything.""You've never once in your life been that bad at lying to me.""Maybe I'm getting worse at it. Or maybe you're getting better at reading me.""Either way, something's wrong. Tell me.""Nothing's wrong.""Wren."She turned then, jaw set, the old defensive posture I'd known since we were kids sharing a room too small for both our tempers."Let go of my arm.""Not until you tell me why you really came here.""I told you already. Diplomatic courtesy.""Try again.""Briar.""Wren."She yanked her arm free, but she didn't walk away. That was new. The old Wren would have already been gone."You want to know why I came?" she said. "Fine. I came because I couldn't stand another week of pretending everything's

"You've got to be kidding me."Wren stood at the Kade border gate, liashe, owned it, arms crossed, and travel cloak dusty from the road."Nice to see you too," she said."I didn't say anything.""You didn't have to. Your face said plenty.""What are you doing here?""Diplomatic visit. Ronan's orders.""Ronan doesn't send diplomatic visits. He sends people he can't be bothered to deal with himself.""Careful. I could still leave.""Please do.""You don't mean that.""Try me and find out."She didn't move. Neither did the guard standing beside her, waiting on my word."Why are you actually here, Wren?"?"I told you. Diplomatic courtesy. Ashguard wants to know how you're settling in.""Ashguard wants to know if I'm still alive to be a problem for them.""That too, probably.""So which is it? " Courtesy or surveillance.""Does it have to be one or the other?""With you, usually."At least she wasn't pretending too hard."Fine," I said. "You can come in. But you're not staying long, and yo

The first punch caught me square in the jaw before anyone said the word began."That's how it starts," a voice called from the crowd. "No warm-up. No warning. Welcome to the Kade pack.""Little warning would've been nice," I said, spitting to the side."Nothing here is a formality," the Beta said, already circling for a second hit. "Formalities don't earn you a rank.""Good to know. I wish someone had mentioned that before my jaw found out the hard way.""Would you have wanted the warning?""Would it have changed anything?""No.""Then no, I wouldn't have."He came at me again, faster than I could track, and landed two more hits before I managed to get an arm up."Move your feet, Briar," Asher called from the sideline. "Speed, not size.""Easy for you to say from over there.""I'm not the one getting hit.""Noted. Feel free to switch places anytime."The Beta laughed, low and confident, and used the distraction to land another blow that snapped my head sideways. I went down on one kne

My chest seized halfway through the training run, like something inside it was trying to claw its way out through my ribs. I went down hard, knees hitting gravel, and my breath gone entirely."Ronan."My Beta, Callum, was at my side before I'd even registered falling. He grabbed my shoulder, eyes wide."What happened? Talk to me.""I'm fine.""You dropped like you'd been shot. That's not fine.""I haven't slept. That's all this is.""You've run this course a hundred times without sleep and never once gone down like that.""Drop it, Callum.""I'm not dropping it. You're pale, your hands are shaking, and you just told me you're fine while gripping your own chest like something's trying to escape it.""It's exhausting.""It's not exhaustion, and I've known you long enough to tell the difference.""Then trust me anyway."He didn't look convinced, but he backed off when I pushed myself upright, refusing the hand he offered. Pain still throbbed under my sternum, deep and foreign, like a wou

"Stop."Neither of them looked at me. I stepped between them anyway, one hand flat against Ronan's chest, the other against Asher's, terrified I was about to get flattened by two Alphas who'd forgotten I existed."Move, Briar," Ronan said."No.""This isn't your fight to stop," Asher said, eyes still locked on Ronan."It's happening in my room, so it's absolutely my fight to stop. Both of you, stand down. Now.""He put his hands on you.""And I already handled that. I don't need you to handle it again by putting him through a wall.""I could put him through a wall without breaking a sweat.""I don't doubt it. I'm asking you not to.""Give me one good reason.""Because if you two destroy this house fighting over me, I'm the one who has nowhere to sleep tonight. Is that good enough for you?"Nothing happened for a second. Then, slowly, both of them eased back half a step, as my voice had cut through whatever haze they'd worked themselves into. I watched it register on both their faces a

"My mate isn't going anywhere," Ronan said again, like repeating it made it true."Let go of my wrist.""Not until you tell me the truth. Do you actually want to leave him, or are you just trying to hurt me?""You rejected me two hours ago, Ronan. I don't need a reason to leave. You gave me one.""That's not what I meant.""Then explain what you meant."He opened his mouth. I watched him get halfway to an actual answer, something real trying to surface behind his eyes, and then I watched him shut it down before a single word came out."I can't," he said."You can't, or you won't?""Does it matter?""It matters to me. You stood in front of the entire pack and told everyone I was too much of everything to stand beside a throne. Now you're gripping my wrist hard enough to bruise it, refusing to explain yourself, acting like I owe you patience I don't have left to give.""I never said you owed me anything.""You're acting like it. You reject me in public, then you chase me down and grab m

Chapter 200: The Last Entry"You're up early," Roman murmured, his voice a low, sleep-roughened vibration that still made my skin tingle.I didn't answer him right away. I just watched the city lights through our bedroom window, the dawn starting to bleed over the horizon. I’d woken before him, as I always did. It was the only time of day when the world felt quiet enough for me to hear my own thoughts.I slid out from the expensive silk sheets and made my way to the kitchen. My bare feet didn't make a sound on the marble floors. I moved with a confidence I hadn't possessed a year ago. I knew where everything was. The beans, the grinder, and the specific French press that Roman insisted made the only drinkable cup of coffee in the tri-state area.I stood at the kitchen window, watching the steam curl from my mug. It was a Tuesday. An ordinary Tuesday. Below me, the city was waking up, people rushing to jobs they probably hated and apartments they could barely afford.I leaned my head a

"The offer is non-negotiable."I leaned back in the leather chair of the Montague Industries boardroom, my gaze fixed on the man across from me. He was older, seasoned, and used to intimidating people with his silence. I wasn't a person. I was a Montague, and I had spent the last few years building a version of myself that didn't flinch. I let the silence stretch, the weight of the negotiation pressing into the room until he finally blinked. He signed. I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and walked out.Across the city, at Ashford Global, Roman was likely doing the same. It was a Tuesday, ordinary, busy, and full of the high-stakes chess we both played for a living.My phone buzzed in my bag. I pulled it out as I reached my office.*Roman: Don’t forget the good olive oil. I’m attempting the pasta again.**Sera: I’ll bring it. And a backup plan for dinner.**Roman: Have a little faith, Sera.**Sera: I have exactly as much faith as your last attempt earned. See you at six.*I put the phone

"What do you want for your birthday?"I looked up from my tablet, my fingers stalling on a spreadsheet. Roman was leaning against the doorframe of my home office, his expression unreadable but his focus entirely on me. It was a month before the day, exactly the kind of lead time a man like Roman Ashford used to plan a military invasion or a billion-dollar acquisition."You're asking me," I said, leaning back in my chair."Every time," he answered. There was no hesitation in his voice. No suggestion that he would go behind my back and plan some sprawling, over-the-top gala that served his ego more than my comfort. He wasn't the man who made assumptions anymore."Good," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.I told him. I didn't hold back, and I didn't play games. I told him I didn't want a ballroom or a press release. I didn't want five hundred strangers drinking expensive champagne while I smiled until my face ached. I wanted my people. I wanted the specific flowers that made our

"Are you ever going to empty those boxes, or are they just part of the decor now?"I didn't answer the voice in my head, Sera’s voice, which had become the permanent soundtrack to my life. I stood in the storage room of the old penthouse, surrounded by the ghosts of a man I barely recognized anymore. The air was thick with the scent of dust and stale air. I’d been avoiding this room for months. Every other part of my transition into our new life was complete, but these last few boxes felt like a weight I wasn't ready to shift.I reached for the nearest crate, the cardboard rough under my palms. This was the final stretch. I hauled it into the center of the room, the sound of the drag echoing against the bare walls. I popped the tape. Inside were documents, old contracts from the Ashford merger, bank statements from years that felt like decades ago. Paperwork that used to be the only thing I lived for.I dug deeper, past the cold, hard facts of my business empire. At the very bottom,

"Sera. I want to ask you something."My father stopped walking, his hand resting lightly on the sun-warmed stone of the garden wall. It was Sunday at the estate, the kind of morning where the air felt thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and damp earth. Savio is fully recovered now. He moved with the same steady, mountain-like strength he’d had before the world tried to break him. We were alone, just the two of us, pacing the gravel paths that wound through the roses.I stopped beside him, adjusting the sleeve of my sweater. "Ask."He didn't look at me at first. He looked out over the hedges, his profile sharp against the morning light. "Are you happy in the way your mother was happy?" He paused, his voice dropping into a register that was purely personal. "The complete kind."I stopped walking entirely. The gravel crunched once under my heel and then went silent.The complete kind.I knew exactly what he meant. I thought about what that looked like growing up. I thought about m

"You're home early."The words weren't mine. They came from the kitchen, deep and familiar, but I didn't answer right away. I was frozen in the entryway of our apartment, my keys still heavy in my hand. My gaze was locked on the dining table. There, sitting in a crystal vase I’d bought myself three months ago, was an arrangement of flowers.They weren't the flowers a man usually buys when he’s trying to be charming. There were no generic red roses, no supermarket lilies, and no flashy orchids designed to scream for attention. They were muted, textured, and wild. They were the specific, obscure stems I’d spent the last year sourcing from a tiny boutique on the edge of the city. They were the ones I bought for myself every Sunday morning as a ritual of my own independence.I didn't move. I just looked at them. The scent hit me, earthy and sharp, exactly the way I liked it. For a long time, my independence was a fortress I’d built to keep the world out, especially Roman. Buying my own