Silent Alpha
A mute Alpha, traumatized by his parents' murder, abandons his fated mate at first sight—convinced his silence makes him unworthy. He then embarks on a desperate cross-country hunt through rival packs to find her, only to face a vengeful hunter who forces him to break twelve years of silence under torture. Meanwhile, his fiercely loyal mate storms into enemy territory to rescue him, and his womanizing Beta discovers his own fated mate is a man. Packed with primal attraction, brutal action, and emotional redemption, this shifter romance redefines what it means to be Alpha.
Read
Chapter: EpilogueKae's POVThis was hopeless. Nothing stood out to me. I was not one to give up, but every ounce of confidence I had when I first came in no longer existed. Everything looked plain or too ordinary. Nothing stood out. "What do you think about this one?" Darian hollered from the other side of the store, causing a few heads to turn in his direction, including mine. He pointed to a small display under the glass. I walked over to him to take a look. My eyes widened at how stunning the small circular object was. "Would you like to take a look at it, Alpha?" the man behind the counter asked as he slid the glass door behind the display open. I nodded my head, still speechless. How did Darian manage to find this? The older man picked up the piece of jewelry with two fingers and gently laid it on the palm of my hand. "Everything in this store is uniquely made."I raised the small object in my hand to scrutinize it. Diamonds lined the rose gold band in a simple, yet beautiful pattern. The t
Last Updated: 2026-07-16
Chapter: Chapter Thirty fourNervousness seeped through me as I stepped into the bustling building full of frantic nurses and doctors. Ever since we arrived, they worked nonstop to try and save Beta Darian's life. We didn't trust anyone over in Canada, so Kaelith used a pay phone in a nearby town to hook us up with a flight. By the time we reached the south, Darian's complexion looked deathly pale. I could tell Vander was worried too by the way he constantly glanced over in his direction. He caught me once while we were on the plane, and he seemed embarrassed. Fortunately Kae was alright, just resting and recovering in his room. I visited him every day to see if he needed anything. While he was out, I did some of his Alpha work for him so he didn't have a lot to stress over once he was able to leave this hospital. When I entered Darian's room, I saw Vander hunched over his sleeping form, his emerald eyes holding so much emotion it made me pause at the door. Darian definitely looked better than before, the colo
Last Updated: 2026-07-16
Chapter: Chapter Thirty threeI screamed and nearly fell over due to the sudden noise ringing in my ears. I placed my hand over my chest as my eyes darted up, making sure Kae was alright. Thankfully he was. So if he was okay, then what...?I turned my head when I heard a thump. Keanu fell on his knees before collapsing onto the floor. Behind him stood Vander, a hefty gun pointed directly at the psychotic man. He took it upon himself to shoot at the dead man again, aiming at his chest rather than his head this time. "Good thing I came looking for you," he grinned, looming over the body to make sure he was dead. He nudged his foot for good measures "I found this gun upstairs. I guess it was a smart decision to take it."As I gawked up at him, I noticed some cuts on the side of his face, and blood lingered on his knuckles. Vander sure did a number on those rogues. "Thank Goddess you wanted to come," I breathed out, standing up. "Do you have those gloves with you?" He nodded and pulled the pair out of his bag, sli
Last Updated: 2026-07-15
Chapter: Chapter Thirty twoThe wooden steps creaked beneath my feet as I descended, trying to be as quiet as possible. I didn't know who was down here, so being as discreet as possible was my goal. The further down I went, the colder the air became, nipping softly at my cheeks. Darkness also enveloped me, making it somewhat difficult to see. However, I was able to make out the stairs and a little bit in front of me. While the room didn't smell awful, the slight scent of mold and blood wafted into my nose. By the time I reached the bottom, the hairs on my neck stood in alert. I noticed a small window against the wall, allowing a sliver of light into the basement. The room itself contrasted with the luxurious furniture and warmth from upstairs. My eyes continued wandering around the room cautiously, searching for any signs of life. My body trembled when I saw the sight before me, bile threatening to rise up my throat. I held back a cry and found it difficult to form coherent words. My limbs felt frozen in place
Last Updated: 2026-07-14
Chapter: Chapter Thirty oneVander and I hid behind a thick tree, poking our heads around the side. In front of us stood a wooden cabin the size of a mini mansion. The back of the building overlooked a steep cliff, the snow-capped mountains and frozen lakes and rivers off in the distance. The scenery looked like it belonged in a National Geographic Movie. Someone could make some decent money if they did a little bit of photography here. It was absolutely breathtaking. I must say this man had a gorgeous home and found the most perfect location for it. The front of the structure contained a large door with a couple tall windows flanking it. A staircase with fancy railings led to the front porch. A buff man stood at the entrance holding a rifle, leaning against the column by the railing lining the porch. He appeared to be bored as he used his nail to pick at one of his teeth. From the tree across from us, I spotted Janet lifting up her gun and pointing it at the guard. She pulled the trigger, and a dart shot out
Last Updated: 2026-07-13
Chapter: Chapter ThirtySamantha's POVI didn't know when I fell asleep or how I ended up back in bed, but when I woke up, my body felt somewhat normal again. My hair was still a little damp and splayed over the pillow in tangled strands. I also realized my lack of clothing. Sitting up, I ignored the lingering headache and looked over at Vander, who slept face first into his pillow, snoring softly. Did he bring me back in here?The last thing I remembered was him sharing some of his childhood stories to me, which included the first time he learned how to fly a plane. Eventually I found myself dozing off as the burning sensations finally diminished. Now, slightly cold, I ran my fingers through my messy hair, cringing when they got stuck on thick knots. I glanced around the room for some clothes, but found nothing. Laying back down, I stared up at the ceiling with a frown, shivering slightly. Time passed by, whether it was seconds, minutes, or hours, I didn't know. Eventually, I heard Vander shift on the fut
Last Updated: 2026-07-12
Checkered Hearts
Three hearts. One finish line. No brakes.
Arthie calculates everything — brake points, tire degradation, survival odds. His twin Theo crashes through life on pure instinct. Together, they're the most dangerous duo in Asian Pacific GT racing. Apart, neither knows how to function.
Dr. Cyrus saves lives by the millisecond in Manila's busiest trauma ward. He doesn't do chaos. He doesn't do velocity. He definitely doesn't do falling for two patients at once — especially when those patients are identical twins who've only ever had each other.
When Theo crashes at an illegal street race, Cyrus performs emergency surgery that puts his hands inside Theo's chest. Arthie watches from the hallway, calculating probabilities of grief. What none of them calculate is the attraction that excavates damage rather than creates it.
Cyrus wants them both. The twins want him together. The only way this works is if all three stop performing — and none of them know how to be seen at rest.
Championship seasons, cardiac crises, surgical triumphs and failures, and the slow architecture of polyamory built through choice rather than default, they learn that structural love isn't about guarantees. It's about continuing — annually, daily, moment by moment — to confirm what they've built.
Velocity is what they do. Presence is who they become.
Read
Chapter: Special Chapter : ConsiderationEarly Morning, Mist, The HouseThe test had been Theo's idea, though he would never say who had taken it. The box was in the trash, the instructions that were multilingual and impersonal, the result that was visible and still incomprehensible. They had found it together, because they found everything together now, the bathroom that was shared space, the evidence that was undeniable and therefore unavoidable.Positive.They sat in the kitchen, the morning that was not yet light, the mist that was Manila's particular gift, the coffee that was prepared but untouched. The silence that was not empty but was full of futures, of possibilities, of the weight that was joy and terror and transformation.
Last Updated: 2026-09-13
Chapter: Special Chapter : AdjustmentLate Afternoon, Rain, The HouseThe argument had begun with a door left open.Not the metaphorical door—though those existed, the emotional portals they guarded and sometimes forgot to secure—but the actual kitchen door to the garden, the one that Arthie had designed with specific hinges to catch the trade winds, the one that Theo had left ajar when he came in from the studio, his hands full of metal scraps and his mind elsewhere.Arthie found it twenty minutes later. The rain that had been threatening since morning had arrived, the floor that was narra wood, reclaimed, precious, now spotted with water. He said nothing at first. Closed the door. Mopped the floor with the efficiency that was his response to d
Last Updated: 2026-09-12
Chapter: Special Chapter : Recovery CurveArthie's POVCardiac RehabilitationThe apartment had become a medical facility and a sanctuary. Arthie sat on the examination table that Cyrus had installed — not hospital-grade, but sufficient: padded, adjustable, positioned by the window where morning light could assess color, where Manila's noise could remind him that life continued without velocity.Cyrus entered with the Holter monitor, the device that was surveillance and care simultaneously. He had removed his shoes at the door, the domestic habit that was new, that was their life bleeding into professional boundary until the boundary was permeable but present."Good morning," Cyrus said, the greeting that was medical and personal.
Last Updated: 2026-09-11
Chapter: Special Chapter : RedlineTheo's DutiesTheo woke at 4:17 AM, the hour when the body was still in recovery but the mind had already begun racing. He lay still, feeling the configuration — Cyrus at his back, the medical warmth that was grounding; Arthie at his chest, the twin rhythm that was synchronization and differentiation simultaneously.He didn't move. To move would disturb them, would break the circuit of touch that was maintenance and meaning. Instead, he practiced presence — the skill they had taught him, the witnessing without performing, the being-without that was harder than speed.But his mind raced. The circuit that was Sepang, the Malaysian GP that was today's violence and today's joy. The corners that were memory and muscle: Turn 1's late braking, Turn 7's under
Last Updated: 2026-09-10
Chapter: Special Chapter : Duties• Morning RoundsThe hospital woke before the city. Cyrus moved through corridors that were dim and humming, the ventilation system's rhythm that was mechanical breathing, the life that continued regardless of who watched or who broke.He began with the ICU — the patients who had survived his hands, who were learning to breathe without machines, to live without the certainty of continuation. He checked monitors, adjusted medications, spoke to nurses in the shorthand that was efficiency and care simultaneously."Bed four," the night nurse reported, the Filipino accent that was home and work and identity. "Fever spike, 38.5, cultures pending."
Last Updated: 2026-09-09
Chapter: Special Chapter : Slow Wave(Intimate/Non-Explicit)Post-Race, Midnight, BahrainThe hotel room was darkness made comfortable—the blackout curtains that racing teams required, the temperature controlled to precise coolness, the silence that was luxury after the day's violence. Cyrus lay awake, as he often did after races, the adrenaline of witnessing metabolizing slowly, the body refusing sleep despite exhaustion. At fifty-three, his sleep architecture had changed, the deep waves that were physically restorative coming less frequently, the waking that was medical vigilance becoming more common. He had learned not to fight it, the insomnia that was occupational hazard and emotional habit. Instead, he practiced what they had taught him: presence without purpose, the being-with that was harder than any surgery.
Last Updated: 2026-09-08
LOGIN
