MasukAmara was born a slave, sold from one cruel master to another in the dangerous world of werewolves. Weak and helpless, she never dreamed of freedom—or love. But when she’s sold to Darius, the cold and strong Alpha of the Lycan Pack, her life changes forever. Darius refuses her as his mate the moment their bond is revealed. Betrayed and crushed, Amara flees, unknowing that she carries a secret—a child their pain? Or will the moon’s threat tear them apart for good?
Lihat lebih banyakAmara’s POVThe night was too quiet.No wind. No crackle from the fire. Not even the distant creak of doors that had haunted us for weeks.Silence, deep and deliberate, hung in the fortress like a held breath.I lay awake beside Cahir’s bed, watching the firelight slide across his face. He looked peaceful impossibly so his small hand still clutching the carved wolf Darius had made. His chest rose and fell in soft rhythm.And then he whispered in his sleep.At first, I thought it was nonsense, the half-formed babble of dreams. But then I caught the melody soft, lilting, familiar. A lullaby.My mother’s lullaby.One I hadn’t sung since the night my parents died.My heart clenched. “Cahir,” I murmured, reaching for him.He didn’t wake.His lips moved with the next line, the words perfect, too perfect. And then a second voice joined his.A woman’s voice.It drifted through the air like perfume gentle, silver, poisonous. The tune wrapped itself around the room, weaving through the
Amara’s POVTorches burned too low, their flames trembling as if afraid of the dark they were meant to chase away. Every door creaked at the wrong time. Every silence stretched too long. Even the stone seemed to breathe slow, uneven, uneasy.The fortress had forgotten how to sleep.Mira said it began two nights after I shattered the chapel mirror.At first, only whispers. Then faces.A warrior woke screaming, swearing he saw his dead sister sitting at the edge of his bed.Another claimed the reflection in his sword mouthed his name.And a child barely old enough to speak refused to drink from the well, whispering that the water was smiling back.It wasn’t an infection of flesh.It was one of sight.By dawn, the mist had grown heavier, curling over the walls like something alive. The courtyard below looked half-drowned, the world reduced to shadow and bone.Darius stood beside me on the eastern balcony, his arms folded, eyes scanning the horizon. His silence carried the weight of slee
Amara’s POVMorning came slow.Mist pressed against the windows like a living thing, turning the light a sickly white. The air inside the fortress was colder than it should’ve been, though the fires hadn’t burned out. Every flame flickered toward the same corner of the room as if drawn by breath I couldn’t hear.I didn’t sleep.Neither did the walls.Something had changed since the night before. The silence was thicker now, the kind that made you wonder whether sound itself had gone missing.Cahir stirred beside the hearth, yawning softly. His eyes bright, steady, untouched by fear found mine. “Mama,” he murmured. “There’s a lady in the window.”My blood turned to ice.I knelt beside him, brushing his hair back gently. “There’s no lady, love. Just fog.”He frowned, stubborn. “She said your name.”The way he said it simple, unafraid made the back of my neck prickle.I turned toward the window. Nothing. Only condensation tracing lazy rivers down the glass. Still, I felt watched. The mar
Amara’s POVThe fortress hadn’t known peace in months, yet that morning, it almost pretended.The sky was pale and hollow, the kind that promised rain but never delivered. Mist clung to the walls, softening the stone and turning the courtyard into a watercolor of silver and grey.For the first time since the battle, the air didn’t smell of blood.I stood by the balcony rail, breathing in the cold. Below, wolves moved in silence, repairing walls, sweeping ashes, trying to rebuild something that used to be home. Life learning to stand again.But peace, I’d learned, was rarely a gift. It was a pause the kind the world takes before deciding whether to break or heal.Footsteps behind me broke the stillness.“Amara.”Mira’s voice quiet but trembling with something she rarely let me hear: emotion.When I turned, I knew before she spoke.She stood in the doorway, cloak soaked with fog, and in her arms wrapped in a worn wool blanket was Cahir and his small boot peeking out.My breath caught.H






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