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Riven
The air in the locker room was thick with the smell of sweat, old leather, and that kind of happiness that comes after a good win. We had fought for this one, and the feeling was good, but it was also heavy. Everyone was still buzzing, and talking over one another as we pulled off our helmets and shin guards.
"Greg! Get off here, man! I'm bathing. Don't look at my ass, you gay motherfucker!" Sean shouted, his voice cutting through the noise, and a wave of laughter erupted all around the room. It was just boys being boys, all of us being loud and happy and rough with one another. Sean threw a wet towel at Greg, who just laughed and threw it back.
I smiled at the noise, but it didn't quite get to me. I was good at this. I was good at this game, good at being the captain, and most of all, good at playing the part.
I was busy trying to unstrap a particularly stubborn shin guard that would not just let go of my shin when my phone started to ring.
It was a sharp, high-pitched ringtone that cut through the noise. It was Lara's ringtone. I had set it that way myself, years ago, when I still thought it was cute.
"Damn… Captain Riven, the lover boy's phone is ringing!" Jade called out, clearly trying to tease me. Then laughter started up again.
"He doesn't want to pick it up!" someone else added.
They were right. I didn't want to pick it up. I knew what it was all about already. A long talk about duties. Questions about why I was so distant. And a constant reminder of what everyone expected from me. So, it was just better that I let it ring. And I let it ring again.
I put the phone face down on the bench. I knew she was calling to check on me, to see if I was okay. Which is good, right? I mean, the thought of it should have made me feel warm, yeah?
But no. Not even in the slightest way did it make me feel warm. It just made me feel tired, bored, and extremely exhausted. I was so fucking tired of being what everyone wanted me to be.
"Is that not your girlfriend, Captain? Why don't you want to answer her call?" Jade asked, nudging me playfully on my arm.
I just gave a lazy shrug. "I'll call her back later. We just finished up," I lied.
We just finished up. Yes, that's what I said. But the truth was, I just didn't want to talk to her. It was always a conversation about what we were, not about who we wanted to be.
The locker room door swung open just then, and everyone fell silent. It was a funny thing. One moment, we were a bunch of rowdy boys, and the next, we were quiet men, standing to attention.
Lara walked in, and you could immediately perceive her. She was easy to identify—she smelled of perfume, money, expensive things, and the weight of tradition.
She was beautiful, of course. Everybody knew that. Her smile was bright and flawless, but I could see past that smile. It was a smile she used for the pack, for the cameras, and for our by-forced future.
She came straight to me, her eyes on me alone. She leaned in, with a soft voice. "Baby, I've been calling you."
A low chorus of "ooohs" and "awwwn" roared from my teammates. The cooing was loud, but it was also a sign of respect. They knew she was the future Luna, the one who held my hand when my reign began.
I pulled her into a hug. It was a familiar hug. I had done it so many times already, and I didn't have to think about it. It was more like an instinct now. "Hey, Lara. We just finished up. I didn't have my phone on me."
That was the lie I always told. And it was the lie she always accepted. We were both good at this. Good at pretending.
She didn't let go. She kept her arms wrapped around my neck, her lips brushing my ear. "I was worried about you."
"It was just a game, Lara," I said, trying to pull away. But no, she wouldn't leave me.
She held on tight. "No, Riven, everything you do out there is not just a game to me."
Her breath was warm against my skin, which on a good day was supposed to send shivers down my spine, right? But instead, it sent aches to my stomach.
She leaned in, her lips finding mine. I didn't kiss her back right away, but then I did, because that's what was expected. It was a public kiss, a show for all of the boys in the room—to make them jealous, to make them see perfection, and above all, a reminder of what we were.
When she finally pulled away, her eyes were no longer soft. They were hard, and they held my gaze with purpose. "I've been calling you because the council called. They want to see you this evening."
I felt my blood drain from my face. The council was the law. They were the ones who held the keys to our world. And they didn't just want to "talk." I knew that already. And that was what I had been avoiding. Their call always meant that they wanted to remind me of my place as an ‘Alpha’.
I want to take a moment to say a huge thank you to everyone who has followed this story. Writing 340,000 words has been a massive journey for me. From the very first chapter of Riven and Sky’s story to the final moments with Stiles and Grey, it has been an incredible ride.I appreciate every single one of you. Your comments, your support, and your excitement for every update kept me going. It means so much to know that you cared about these characters as much as I did. You were the heartbeat of this book, and I am so grateful for the time you spent in Silverfangs with me.I have one last favor to ask. If you enjoyed this journey, please leave a review on the front page. Your reviews help new readers find the story and decide to give it a try. It would mean the world to me to see your thoughts there and to know what parts of the story stayed with you.What’s Next?While this specific adventure has come to an end, I am always writing! 😌I have several other books across different genre
(Authors POV) Four years had passed like a beautiful dream. Silverfangs felt different now. It was no longer a place of secrets, but a place of home. Grey had finally transferred his medical practice back from the East. He didn't just work at a palace anymore; he owned the largest private hospital in the land. It was a massive building with the best equipment, making him one of the most respected men in the territory. He was a man of status, and Stiles was right there by his side, supporting him every step of the way. They had been married for a year now, after three long, happy years of dating. Life was perfect, except for one thing they both wanted: a child. Since they couldn't have one naturally, they had found a surrogate—a kind woman who was helping them carry their baby. They had spent months searching for the right person, and now the dream was finally becoming a reality. Today was a big day. It was appointment day at the pack hospital to see a specialist for a scan. They w
Grey The days in the East were quiet, but for me, they were a torture of silence. It had been almost two weeks. No letters. No calls. No messages. I spent my nights staring at my phone, hoping the screen would light up with his name. But it never did. I tried to tell myself it was for the best. Maybe Stiles had listened to me. Maybe he had stayed with Hasima and chosen his duty. I had told him to solve his own mess, but a part of me—the greedy, selfish part—was dying inside because he hadn't reached out. Maybe you would say, since he didn't call, why didn’t I call him? No. That part of me—the call-him-first part—is gone. I wasn't going to. If he needed me, it was his decision. I walked through the hospital corridors, my white coat fluttering behind me. I had just finished a long shift in the theater. Nurses and patients waved at me, and I gave them small, tired smiles. I just wanted to go home and sleep. Suddenly, my wolf stirred. Qx began to howl. It wasn't a sad howl. It was
(Authors POV) The air in the small stone hall was freezing, but nobody moved to close the windows. This was a ceremony of shadows. There were no flowers, no music, and no happy guests. Only Riven, Sky, Stiles’s father, and the elders stood in a circle. The atmosphere was heavy, like a storm was about to break. In the center stood Stiles and Hasima, facing each other for the last time as mates. Hasima’s hands were shaking. Her face was pale, and her eyes were tired. Stiles looked worse. He looked like a man standing in front of a firing squad. He was ready, but his body was trembling with fear of the unknown. He knew this would hurt, but he didn't know if he would survive the shock. "Do you, Hasima of the Western Plains, willingly sever the thread that binds you to Stiles of the Silverfangs?" the Elder asked, his voice echoing like a death knell. Hasima looked at Stiles. He gave her a small, encouraging nod. It was the most selfless thing he had ever done for her. He was giving
Stiles I sat in my father’s living room, staring at the fireplace. The house was quiet, but my mind was loud. My father sat across from me, holding a glass of amber liquid. He hadn't said a word since I walked in, but I knew he had heard the news. In a pack like the Silverfangs, a scandal like this didn't stay quiet for long. The walls have ears in this palace, and by now, everyone probably knew the mess. My case was different from Riven's. In his case, Sky was his mate. In my case, I rejected my own mate. Or my mate rejected me so I could be with a man. It sure was one hell of news. Finally, he set his glass down on the wooden table with a soft thud. The sound echoed in the empty room, making me flinch slightly. Even though my father and I were close, I still was uncertain how he would react to this situation. "I knew it," he said, his voice deep and rough. "I knew the moment Grey stepped back onto this land, things were going to get messy. That boy was always your weakness, S
Stiles I watched Grey walk out of the room, his shadow disappearing into the long hallway. My heart felt like it was being pulled out of my chest, but I couldn't move. The silence in the room was heavy. Outside, the music from Riven and Sky’s wedding was still playing, but for me, the celebration was dead. I had to find her. I had to face the mess I made. I walked toward Hasima’s quarters. Every step felt like I was walking toward my own execution. When I reached her door, I didn't knock. I just walked in. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. She had torn off her jewellery, and it lay scattered on the floor like broken glass. "Leave," she whispered. She didn't even look up. "Get out, Stiles." "We have to talk, Hasima," I said, staying near the door, gathering courage because it was either now, or never. "You can’t avoid me forever. We are tied together by a bond, whether we like it or not." She looked up then, and her eyes were red and sw







