Alpha’s Regret: His Luna, His Heirs, His Redemption
Olivia Wade never asked for the bond.
A servant. A latent. A girl without a wolf — she knew better than to dream of being Luna.
But when Alpha Luther Reed returned from training, fate betrayed her. His storm-dark eyes found hers. His wolf growled mine. For one night, he kissed her, claimed her, whispered promises that set her soul on fire. For one night, she believed she mattered.
The next night, beneath the chandeliers and the eyes of the entire pack, he shattered her.
Humiliated. Broken. Cast aside.
Olivia fled into the forest with nothing but the scraps of her pride. She swore she would never beg again — not for love, not for recognition, not even for her mate.
But bonds do not break. And Luther’s wolf refuses to let her go.
Torn between the Alpha who destroyed and humiliated her and the destiny she refuses to accept, Olivia must choose: freedom, or a reckoning powerful enough to bring an entire pack to its knees.
The Alpha’s regret has only just begun.
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Chapter: Unwelcome GuestPOV: OliviaThe boardroom emptied like a tide pulling back from glass.Chairs sighed. Laptops snapped shut. The air smelled of espresso and projection screens, that sterile mix that always made me feel competent, contained. My CFO mouthed we’re good, stacked the quarterly deck with neat precision, and retreated with the others. The last thing to leave was their cologne: citrus and certainty.This was my world. Polished oak. Low voices. Signatures that moved money more quietly than any war.I stood at the head of the table, palms flat on the glossy wood, and let the win settle. We’d beaten the forecast by two points in a quarter that should have buckled under rumour. I’d spun my absence into a strategy, fed the press curated photos, and let a deputy sit in meetings that would have sniffed weakness. We were whole. Steady. Fine.I repeated that as I walked the corridor lined with awards, gala photos, and a candid photo of my team celebrating the IPO. I told myself again when I caught the
Last Updated: 2025-09-24
Chapter: Lines in the SandPOV: OliviaThe safehouse smelled like Luther—cedar, gun oil, the faint iron edge of a world I’d kept at arm’s length. I’d told myself a dozen times I could live in two worlds: the glass towers of my company and the dark, wolf-ruled corners where men settled fights with teeth. Standing in his kitchen as steam fogged the windows, the impossibility of that lie felt like a bruise.“The kids are asleep,” he said, voice trying for casual but landing like a rock in the sink.I kept my hand on the counter because if I didn’t I would have crossed the room and pulled him close on instinct. Instead, I used the steadiness of the marble to hold myself upright. “You can’t keep playing both sides.” My jaw did most of the speaking. The words burned. “This is my company. My life. You don’t get to—” I swallowed. The truth curdled. “You don’t get to claim both worlds.”He watched me for a long, steady beat. No apology prepped like a shield. Just the tired weight of a man who’d learned to carry battles
Last Updated: 2025-09-23
Chapter: The Human AnglePOV: Olivia The gala smelled of money. Not the clean kind—new cars and glass towers—but the old kind, rubbed into velvet curtains and polished oak, into cigars and brandy poured since men in this city first thought themselves kings. I hated every second of it. But I had to be here. Investors needed reassurance. A company that could survive rumours, rogue competitors, and even whispered threats about its reclusive CEO was a company worth betting on. Tonight, I was the mask they wanted to see. Aria stayed behind with the kids, promising her knife would sleep under her pillow and her eyes wouldn’t close until I returned. That was the only reason I walked out the door. I wore armour disguised as silk—a black gown that skimmed without revealing, fabric that whispered wealth without surrender. My hair was pinned high, my lipstick precise, but underneath the polish, my skin crawled. Every chandelier felt like a spotlight. Every champagne flute rang like a blade. Daniel offered his a
Last Updated: 2025-09-22
Chapter: A Grandmother’s Oath
POV: ElaraThe Red Moon compound did not rest easily that night.I felt it in the stone floors beneath my slippers, in the way the banners along the corridor shifted though no wind passed. Servants whispered in corners, balancing trays as if their silence could hide the tremor in their hands. Guards changed posts with clipped steps, eyes fixed ahead so no one mistook them for listeners. Even the wolves in the yard were restless, ears twitching at shadows.The house itself had absorbed the clash between father and son. A storm had broken in Marcus’s study, and the air still tasted of ash and fury. Men said little, but the walls carried their voices. I had lived with these walls long enough to hear them.I sat in my Luna’s chambers, ledger open but unread. On the desk lay a knife, honed sharp, not for display but because words are not always enough. Beside it, a small carved wolf, once kept in the nursery before my sons grew into men and their father turned their games into drills. I ha
Last Updated: 2025-09-21
Chapter: The Alpha DefiesPOV: Marcus The house smelled of last night’s fire—embers, whiskey, and the faint metallic tang that follows blood. For once, the scent did not belong to me; it clung to the morning like a verdict. My steward had rolled the reports and placed them on my desk as if bundling a confession. Tracker returns. Wound patterns. A sound the men could not name except to call it a howl with too many voices. They said Iron Fang had limped back, tails low. They said they had dropped to their knees at something in the street. They said they had run to Red Moon, not from it. They spoke the word already pulsing in my veins—heirs. Luther stood in my study like a guest I had not invited—tidy, upright, bred to command. He had not been seen at the compound since the night the raiders were driven off. Men like him usually went into their dens, into their bottles, into the claws of wolves who knew no shame. But Luther had been elsewhere. A safehouse in the city. My scouts traced him through the rain. H
Last Updated: 2025-09-20
Chapter: Safehouse Fractures PIV: OliviaThe safehouse was too neat.Too clean. Too still.Not mine. His.Every surface whispered Luther’s presence—polished steel fixtures, stacked supplies, a couch that looked more like a military cot in disguise. Nothing out of place. Nothing soft enough to belong to me or the children. Even the air smelled of him: cedar, gun oil, a hint of smoke.The children felt it. I could see it in every twitch and fidget.Hyden drummed his fingers on the coffee table until the beat rattled my skull. Lily paced the rug in circles, twisting her sleeve until the seam gave way. Daisy abandoned her crayons after the fifth sheet filled with black scribbles.They weren’t supposed to live like this—caged animals pacing, waiting for the next strike.I tried to bury myself in work. My laptop glowed too bright against the dim safehouse lighting, screen filled with emails piling faster than I could skim. “Board seeks clarification on your absence.” “Client reassurance needed.” “Press request: rumours
Last Updated: 2025-09-19
Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King
The night Araya was born, the Moon refused her. Marked as wolfless, mocked and forgotten, she grew up as prey in her own pack. Even her fated mate broke the bond with a smirk and left her bleeding at the border — for rogues to finish.
But they forgot one thing:
Ash remembers.
And so does the throne buried beneath it.
The forest did not devour her. It bowed.
The flame did not die. It waited.
Until, in the silence between heartbeats, something older than gods whispered:
“She is not blessed. She is not chosen. She is the reckoning the moon tried to silence.”
Now Araya walks again — no longer mortal, no longer meek. She is Hollow-Blood reborn, daughter of the fire that swallowed fate, heir to a throne no god dares name.
And fate has bound her to Dorian—Azrien—the exiled god chained to shadow and ruin. He expected to crave nothing but vengeance. Until her. Araya is the mate his immortal soul demands, the salvation he denies, and the spark that could either set him free… or burn the world to ash.
But enemies stir in silence.
Adira, the Luna who would claim the Alpha prince at any cost, forges a pact with a creature older than gods, a monster chained in rot and darkness. The price she pays will rip fate itself open.
Betrayals. Forbidden desire. Gods who bleed. Wolves who kneel.
And at the heart of it, one truth no prophecy can silence:
The gods will end.
She will not.
And the last prophecy carved into stone whispers:
“The Flame That Walks Returns.
Let the gods burn first.”
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Chapter: THE FIRST BLADE POV: Araya The hall had not finished echoing when the shadow came. Not a door opening. Not a wolf stepping from the crowd. This was absence made flesh. A blade-shaped void cut through the silver rain still hanging in the rafters, and the air itself hissed as if a seam had been unstitched. My wolf bristled so hard it hurt my ribs. Nyxara hissed in my skull: Steel. Old steel. Then I saw him. He stood where no path led, bronze skin gleaming as if hammered straight from ore, eyes faceted obsidian, hair pulled tight into a knot that never moved. Armor wrapped his body in shifting light—blades folded over each other, edges reforming every time my focus tried to hold. A sword the size of a man’s height rode his back, silent, patient. A weapon, not a man. Nyxara’s tone was ice: The First Blade. The name dragged dust from the rafters. Even Selene’s silver shivered. He looked at me. No blink. No breath. “You are to be unmade.” --- He moved before the last syllable. Faster than wolv
Last Updated: 2025-09-24
Chapter: THE MOON DESCENDS POV: ArayaThe ash had not finished falling when the air changed.A silence sharper than steel cut through the hall. Every wolf froze. Torches bent toward the doors as if bowing. The altar’s ashes stirred, glowing faintly, as though some buried tide had passed through the ruin.Then came the silver.It trickled first from the rafters, like mist drawn into droplets. Then faster, heavier — rain with no storm to call it. Drops hissed where they struck the stone, burning coin-bright scars into the floor. Wolves shook it from their fur with low growls.The priestesses screamed.They crumpled to their knees, blood spilling silver from eyes, mouths, and ears. Their white robes turned mirror-sharp, soaked in their goddess’s own essence.The howls of wolves faltered into a silence thick as fear.And then she descended.Selene. The Moon herself.---POV: SeleneDescent is never without risk.To remain in Solara is to be sustained by law. To fold myself into flesh, to step where wolves can smell
Last Updated: 2025-09-23
Chapter: Ashmouth’s ChainsPOV: AshmouthDarkness tastes different when it has been kept too long.New dark is nervous — it clings to corners, panics at the scrape of flint, waits for fire to name it. But old dark, the kind that learns patience, that moulds itself around stone, chains, and silence—this kind is thick enough to chew. I have chewed it for centuries.The Loom buried me here. Or claimed to.Above me, Solara hangs, a hollow crown of false light and false law. I feel it in the stone, in the air that drips through cracks like thin wine. Once, I stood there. Once, my voice cracked their table in two. Once, I burned their order to glass and ash.Then chains. Always chains.---The cavern is a cathedral of ruin.Iron columns spike down from the ceiling, hammered into bedrock. They are not decoration. They are links, each wider than a wolf’s back, each carved with the runes of gods afraid of their own shadows. They thread my limbs, my ribs, my throat. They drink my marrow and spit it back into the stone.A
Last Updated: 2025-09-22
Chapter: ASH QUEEN RISES POV: ArayaBlackthorn’s hall breathed smoke and silence.Torches hissed along stone walls, shadows bending beneath banners stitched with wolves that never lived. Incense and oil stung the lungs. Every bench overflowed with bodies pressed close, collars humming faint and cruel.At the far end, the altar rose like a parasite in the dais. Pale wood pulsed with false life, roots threading deep into stone, runes crawling over its face in patterns that weren’t ours.Kade knelt at its foot. Hollow-eyed. Broken. Whispering words that weren’t his.Above him stood Adira—pale beneath her crown of braids, hands locked over the swell of her belly. Erik’s voice coiled through her womb like rot through water.Hollowflame prowled my skin. My wolf clawed for release.“Enough,” I said, and Blackthorn’s doors split wide.---The hall gasped. Torches guttered. Shadows fled. The priest faltered mid-chant, his book trembling as if ashamed of its words.I walked. Ash flaked from my heels—soft snow glowing r
Last Updated: 2025-09-21
Chapter: THE LUNA’S LIE POV: AdiraThe hall smells of wax and iron.Torches spit against black stone, smoke curling toward a vaulted ceiling painted with wolves that never lived. A dais rises like a blade at the chamber’s heart, draped in crimson and silver. Runes crawl faintly along the floor — roots etched into stone, old words bent into obedience.They told me this was only a rehearsal.But rehearsals are prisons too.I move through the steps the priest drilled into me: bow of the head, lift of the hands, turn of the wrist to show the bond-mark. My body performs with perfect grace; I was raised to make performance indistinguishable from truth. Still, my pulse betrays me, drumming against the child inside me.The pack kneels in my imagination, though the hall is mostly empty. I see their bowed heads, their whispers: Luna. Luna. Luna. My name as triumph. My womb as proof.I place my palm on the swell of my belly. The child stirs faintly, a flutter like wings.Erik stirs with it.Mine, he whispers, silk thre
Last Updated: 2025-09-20
Chapter: COUNCIL FRACTURES POV: Selene — CouncilThe chamber has no walls.It never did.It hangs by law and light alone — a hollow sphere above Solara’s highest spire, open on every side. The city below glitters and seems small, its towers like candle stubs. Mortal fires can’t touch us here. The Loom hums overhead, threads stretching into infinity.Tonight, the hum is wrong.A pulse moves through it — heavy, alien, older than any cadence we wrote into the weave. Each vibration shudders the chamber, bends the pillars of fire as if some wind dared to exist here. Solara’s golden spires tremble; the city rings like struck glass.The Council erupts.“IT IS A WEAPON!” War bellows, his voice cracking against light. His gauntleted fist slams the table of fire; sparks fall like meteors. His hair lifts in the heat of his own fury. “You felt it. You all felt it! A seam, a strike, a pulse not born of us. This is an attack!”Death does not flinch. She never does. Her lips curl as if she’s been waiting longer than eternity
Last Updated: 2025-09-19
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