Marcus took a slow step closer, his presence filling the space between them like a rising tide.Raine stiffened, every muscle in her body coiled tight, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t.When his hand reached for her arm, instinct jolted through her — a sharp, cold flinch — but she masked it quickly, forcing herself to stand still as though nothing had happened.Don’t you dare, she told herself. Don’t you dare pull away like some frightened pup. He doesn’t get to see that. He doesn’t get to see you weak.Marcus’s fingers rested gently against her forearm, not restraining, just grounding — as if he was afraid she might shatter if he gripped too hard. His brows furrowed, eyes searching her face, trying to read what she wasn’t saying.“Raine,” he said softly, almost pleading, “I’m not your enemy.”Her chest tightened at the quiet sincerity in his voice. He doesn’t get to sound like that. Not to me.Her chest squeezed at that, her throat tightening — but she forced herself to stare back a
After that day, the room finally knew quiet.The healer’s herbs kept the air heavy with their earthy, bittersweet scent. The moon had passed twice overhead, the house dipping into silence each night — except for Marcus. He hadn’t left her side once.Now, Raine’s lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. A faint sound, barely more than a breath, escaped her throat as she stirred. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, brushing lightly against the warmth near her hand.Marcus.His head rested on the edge of her mattress, his arms folded under him. He’d fallen asleep sitting there, his tall frame bent uncomfortably, as though even in sleep he refused to fully let down his guard.His brows were furrowed, lips pressed in a tense line. Even unconscious, he looked like he was still fighting something — someone.Raine’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadow of stubble that had grown in over the past few days. His dark hair was a mess, falling into his eyes, as
Sebastian’s jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he looked between Colin and Penelope. Their silence stretched, heavy, and his patience thinned to a razor’s edge.“Before either of you hesitate,” he said at last, his voice low, cutting through the air like a blade, “remember where you’re standing. This is my pack’s territory. You are both here because we allow it. Don’t make me regret that decision.”The words landed like a warning growl, quiet but impossible to ignore.Colin’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening as he straightened from his lazy stance. His eyes flashed, but he didn’t speak. Penelope, for once, seemed at a loss for words, her lips pressed into a thin line.Sebastian let the silence hang for a beat longer, letting them feel the weight of his authority.“Now,” he continued, his tone clipped, “I asked where Raine is. You can answer, or you can get out of my way.”Penelope exhaled sharply through her nose, folding her arms. “She’s in the healer’s wing,” she mu
Sebastian stood there, his breath ragged, Seraphina’s hand warm against his cheek.You will be Alpha.The words should have soothed him, should have settled the storm clawing at his chest—but instead they felt like cold water over a fire that had already consumed everything in its path.His jaw clenched, and for a long moment he simply stared at her.Sugar-coating.That was all this was.She always did this—patched his wounds with words, dressed them with polished hope, but never quite addressed the bleeding. It was easier to tell him he was meant to lead than to admit that she had hesitated, even for a second, when he asked if Marcus might be the stronger one.That pause echoed in his head like a blade striking stone.Sebastian’s throat tightened, his nails biting deep into his palms. You didn’t answer fast enough, he thought bitterly. Because you don’t know. Because maybe you see it too—that Marcus is catching up. That maybe, one day, he’ll surpass me.His wolf growled inside him, b
Sebastian’s eyes flickered open to a dimly lit chamber, the familiar scent of cedar and smoke grounding him before the fog of memory began to clear. The ceiling beams above him swam into focus, the weight of exhaustion dragging at his body like lead. His muscles ached, his wolf stirred uneasily beneath his skin, and the taste of blood and anger still lingered on his tongue.He shifted slightly, the rustle of fabric drawing his gaze to the figure seated at his bedside. His mother. Luna Seraphina.Her posture was poised as always, her gown untouched by the chaos of the night, yet her eyes betrayed her composure—tired, sharp, searching. She had been watching him, waiting for him to wake.“You’re finally awake,” she said softly, but there was no gentleness in her tone. It was clipped, restrained, heavy with questions.Sebastian pushed himself upright, the dull throb of bruises along his ribs reminding him of Marcus’s strength in their fight. His jaw clenched at the memory, his pride stung
Marcus hadn’t realized where his feet had carried him until the soft scrape of a cane echoed behind him.“Hot blood runs fast, boy.”The voice was low, gravelly, too familiar from the shadows of council chambers and whispered meetings. Marcus froze, shoulders stiffening, before he turned.An Elder stood there, half-shrouded in the corridor’s dim light. His cloak was the same deep charcoal the anonymous council always wore, hiding most of his frame, but Marcus recognized the sharp set of his jaw and the piercing glint of eyes that had seen far too much.Marcus’s mouth twisted. “Didn’t think I’d get a lecture this soon.”The Elder gave a low, gravelly laugh, not unkind but heavy with age. “I’m not here for that, Marcus.”Marcus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. He knew the man—he’d seen him at gatherings, silent in the background, never one to seek attention. A shadow that lingered at the edges of council meetings, never speaking unless pressed. Marcus had been too busy wasting his