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: The DividePOV: Olivia Reporters waited like gulls at low tide patient, hungry, sure something would wash up. They surged when my car stopped. Flashes. Questions. “Ms Wade, were the kidnappers tied to your company?” “Are you in contact with the Alpha?” “Are your children hybrids?” I didn’t answer. Security opened a path with a steady hand, avoiding headlines. The mirrored doors of Wade Global threw back the version of me I’d brought for public use: black suit, obedient hair, new scars blurred by the wrong shade of foundation. Composed. Cold. Not honest. “Welcome back, Ms Wade,” the receptionist chirped too loudly, as if to drown out the silence. The lift purred upward. I used to love that sound height as proof. Now it has only proved that the sky can be boxed in chrome and sold as victory. At thirty, my assistant, Hana, met me at the glass gate, tablet to chest. “The board’s already in,” she said softly. “And… messages from the councils.” “The human ones or the wolves?” A small smile.
Last Updated: 2025-10-24
Chapter: The Hollow CalmPOV: Olivia The valley still smelled like a wet match. Ash dusted hair and hems, the Hall steps, the river stones where grief had washed its hands and left grey fingerprints. I kept the children on a strip of grass by the east wall where the wind moved. Daisy sorted pebbles by “shiny.” Lily made a crooked crown and set it on Hyden’s head; he sighed and let it be. Rowan used my phone to photograph everything that wasn’t a face. Luther stopped a pace from our blanket and didn’t touch it. Small mercy. Bandage under his rolled sleeve, dirt on his cuffs, eyes that brightened when they found me, then remembered not to. “Olivia,” he said. “Alpha.” I didn’t offer a seat. The word landed. He turned to the children. Lily stared back. Rowan nodded like a man. Hyden watched the horizon. Daisy clutched her whale patch like a seal. “I need to discuss safety,” he said. “Do you?” “There are still threats from the Creed. I want you and the children inside Red Moon territory. Not the Hall,” he
Last Updated: 2025-10-24
Chapter: Trial of TruthPOV: OliviaThe rebuilt hall breathed like a chest relearning rhythm. Open arches replaced bannered walls; scrubbed stone kept its scars. Dawn fell in long bands across a single table, not a throne.They put me in the witness circle.Garron stood at my shoulder with a scuffed case. Elara waited with the elders, the Luna’s sign inked small on her wrist. Luther stood at the far end, hands folded, head unbowed. The children were behind good doors with the smells of sugar and sleep exactly right.The Council called it an emergency hearing to “restore order.” You can’t restore what never existed.I set the case on the table. The room quieted.“You summoned me,” I said. “You wanted an accounting.”“The pack demands it,” an elder in rings began. “You broadcast images not meant for”“I showed cages,” I said. “If panic followed, it followed truth.”A younger councillor flinched. Good.Marcus rose, older where it matters eyes and jaw. “Proceed. Ms Wade, present your evidence.”Garron passed me
Last Updated: 2025-10-24
Chapter: What the Wells KeptPOV: Elara Night stayed quiet. We worked under canvas and lamp enough light to see, not to perform. Garron’s crew moved with quiet purpose: ropes coiled, winches oiled, salt kept dry. The pine court well sat close to the hall still learning to be a home. I chose to start here. If any rot remained, I’d cut it near my grandchildren’s laughter. Marcus stood at the edge, leaning on his cane without shame. Pride is for the young. He leaned on wood, not rank. That was mercy enough. “Lines set,” Garron said, pale beneath the grit. “Pump primed. We’ll go slow. If the readings spike” “We stop. We salt. We close,” I said. “No heroics.” He nodded. The pump coughed, then found rhythm. Water climbed, dark first, then clear. The smell rose rust, lime, and that faint sweetness memory leaves behind. “I should’ve done this years ago,” Marcus said. “You should have,” I answered. “You didn’t. So we will.” We lowered the first sensor. It slipped beneath the rim with a soft chime. The line trembl
Last Updated: 2025-10-23
Chapter: The Wells RememberPOV: Elara The first well crouched where the northern ridge forgot to be a cliff its stone lip ringed with gorse, the wind combing the scrub flat. The air tasted of iron, as if the earth were holding its tongue on a mouthful of names. Marcus was already there, one hand resting on the coping, head bowed like a judge who knows the verdict can’t mend what broke. “Your father sealed it,” I said, letting the rope coil into my palm. “After the winter the pups died. He called it sanctification.” “I remember the smoke,” he said quietly. “And the smell.” “You buried truth and called it tradition.” “I thought if I named it, it would wake.” His throat worked. “So I didn’t.” The coping stones carried old runes sharp and angular, not the smooth circles apprentices are taught. Dust warmed under my thumb, as if embers remembered flame. “We should have pulled these years ago,” I murmured. “You told me,” he said. I let us fall with the rope. Garron ratcheted a senusto the dark. The well took
Last Updated: 2025-10-21
Chapter: The House That BreathesPOV: OliviaBy noon the Keep looked flayed banners down, crests gone, plaster pale where pride had hung too long. Fresh timber met the ghost of ash on the ridge path and braided into something that wanted to be hope. I kept my hands in my pockets so they wouldn’t shake.“We’re not moving in,” I told the children. “We’re looking.”Rowan pretended not to care. Lily measured everything with her chin. Daisy held her blanket patch like a talisman. Hyden walked with his shoulder almost touching mine, as if contact could stop the ground from shifting.At the gate, wolves nodded and looked away new manners learning their shape. Inside, saws bit, hammers spoke, ropes creaked. The great doors stood open, iron straps scrubbed to a dull honesty. Elara waited just inside, clean hands, a smear of dust across her cheek like forgotten war paint.“No escorts,” she said. “No speeches.” She studied the children with relief, who didn’t dare breathe too loudly. “He’s in the hall. He kept it empty until yo
Last Updated: 2025-10-20
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 HOLLOWLIGHT CHILD POV: Araya The pulse had changed. Since the Mortal Oath, the world had kept a steady heartbeat but tonight it stuttered, too fast, too loud, as if remembering something it once swore to forget. Each tremor rippled through the stones of the Throne Hall until even the banners breathed. Dorian stood by the dais, gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling where the Loom’s faint threads glimmered like veins of light. His sword born of Exiled Light remained sheathed but awake, silver lines coiling along its hilt. “It’s back,” I said. He nodded. “It never left. It just waited for us to stand in the same place again.” My Hollowflame stirred, restless. It wanted to move, to reach him, to finish what Chaos had shown us weeks ago. I took a single step forward, and the pulse jumped. Boom... boom. The sound pressed against bone. He looked at me. “If it’s the same vision trying to break through” “It won’t be a vision this time.” We both knew. Chaos had once shown us a child woven from
Last Updated: 2025-10-14
Chapter: THE MORTAL OATH
POV: Kaelith The night smelled like rain that forgot to fall. From the ridge above Blackthorn, a thousand fires stitched the world lines of light over hills, rivers, ruins. They burned in a hesitant rhythm that steadied until even the wind seemed to listen. Every flame marked a promise: mortals choosing to stand beneath the same sky that once crushed them. Wolves answered. Their howls braided through the valleys, calling one another home. For the first time since the gods broke, the world sounded alive. Under the awe, something pulsed the slow beat that haunts every silence since the Throne of Ash breathed. Boom… boom. The world’s new heartbeat: patient, watchful, unfinished. I touched the brazier beside me. The flame leaned toward my hand like a familiar. Warm, not wild the Hollowflame reborn as mercy. Araya’s fire. The queen who refused a crown. “Begin,” I whispered. The flame shivered, listening. Below, the square is filled. Wolves threaded the crowd without fear.
Last Updated: 2025-10-13
Chapter: THE SILENT COUNCIL POV: Selene The halls remember voices long after they’re gone. I feel that absence under my feet dull and deep, like a bruise. Ash veils the mosaics, soft as first snow and sharp as salt if I breathe too deeply. The long table waits where it always has: oval, arrogant, built for knuckles and proclamations. No one strikes anything now. The marble holds a tired warmth, pretending thunder still lives here. “Gone,” I tell the room. “Good.” Not triumph. Not grief. Just measure the tide pulling back to reveal forgotten shoreline. I walk the circle. Chairs patient as bones. Names still carved into their backs Dawn, Oath, Order, Death each letter too clean beneath the ash. My old seat gleams faintly, silver filigree meant to freeze wrists. “I kept you steady,” I tell it. “Not honest.” Above, the dome’s mosaic shifts. Through its cracks, stars peer in, impolite as children at a window. A draft stirs ash into slow tides around my ankles. The silence feels rehearsed. Then I hear it. No
Last Updated: 2025-10-12
Chapter: THE BEGINNING POV: Araya When the Hall Held Its BreathThe Throne of Ash hummed beneath my palms, warm as a hearth after a long night.Solara’s vault had dimmed to an honest glow, no glare, no sermon, constellations drifting like lanterns on a slow river.Selene stood on the first riser, calm and bare-wristed. Dorian’s light stitched cracks through the Hall. Nyxara curled against my ribs, awake and watchful.We’d turned a weapon into a workstation.Then every star above us paused.Not stopped listening.Heat drew inward, gathering between my hands where the throne’s heart beat. The air thickened, the way a crowd quiets before something sacred.“Hold,” I said. Dorian’s fingers tightened. Selene’s shoulders squared tide choosing not to withdraw.A hum rose from nowhere and everywhere, settling in my bones like a name I’d forgotten.Nyxara’s hackles lifted. She’s coming.“Who?” Dorian asked.“Not who,” Selene murmured. “What?”The hum smiled.> At last, a little verdict.Chaos spoke.---POV: Chaos
Last Updated: 2025-10-11
Chapter: THE THRONE OF ASH POV: Araya The Hall remembered how to listen. Ash drifted in slow spirals. Runes smouldered beneath soot. Beyond the broken arches, Solara’s vault dimmed from sanctified white to the amber of banked coals. The gods’ city wasn’t dead just learning to speak softly. At the centre, the new seat breathed. Not stone. Not grace. A living ember shaped like a throne bone pale, veined with gold and shade its heart pulsing light and dark to the world’s new cadence. Each beat licked the floor with heat that stopped before pain. Words at the base blinked like a newborn’s eyes: NO CHAINS. NO CROWNS. ONLY CHOICE. Dorian stood at my shoulder, light steady, tired, unafraid. Nyxara woke in my bones the way wolves wake into dusk stretch, yawn, teeth because it feels good. It’s calling you, she murmured, amused. Try not to make it a habit. “I’m going to sit,” I said. “Not take root.” Same warning. The throne brightened, shadows thrown long into the Hall’s ribs. Far below, the mortal sky answere
Last Updated: 2025-10-10
Chapter: THE FORBIDDEN HALL POV: Araya The road ended at a gate that wasn’t a gate.Light thinned there, stretched so taut it hummed. Beyond it, Solara’s pulse beat slow and wounded. Dorian’s hand found mine warm, steady.“Ready?” he asked.“I think it’s been waiting too long for anyone to be ready.”We stepped through.Scent fell away. Sound dulled. Overhead, the divine city hovered like a broken halo palaces turned inside out, spires leaning into the void. In the middle of it all floated the Hall, the only place that hadn’t fallen. The gods built it from will, not stone; will dies last.We crossed a bridge of glass that regrew beneath each step. Silence pressed in until even thinking felt loud. Nyxara stirred beneath my ribs.Something here remembers owning you.“I remember it, too,” I murmured.---Inside SolaraThe Hall was enormous and empty.Light didn’t reveal it light obeyed it. Pillars rose like ribs into a ceiling painted with constellations that moved too slowly to be called motion. At the centre, ha
Last Updated: 2025-10-09
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