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17. The Extraction of Desire

Mariam
last update Veröffentlichungsdatum: 09.01.2026 21:17:45

The air in the laboratory didn’t just vibrate; it shrieked.

The sound of the high-pressure cooling vats cracking under the sonic roar of the Ghost Alpha was a symphony of destruction. I watched, my back pressed against a jagged pillar of reinforced concrete, as Girard rose from the wreckage of the glass partition. He was a vision of primal fury. His clothes were little more than scorched rags clinging to his cabled muscles, and his skin—that beautiful, olive-toned skin I had worshipped in t
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  • Bait for the devil    30. THE SILENT DEPTH OF SACRIFICE

    The water didn’t feel cold at first. It felt like a heavy, velvet curtain closing over the world, silencing the roar of the storm and the crackle of the lightning. As I sank deeper into the black heart of the Mediterranean, the agony of the Solstice Strain—that jagged, purple lightning I had pulled from Girard’s soul—began to settle into a dull, pulsing ache. I was a tether, a grounding wire, and I had done my job. But as the surface light faded into a shimmering, distant memory, the realization hit me: a lightning rod is only useful until it melts. My lungs burned, a desperate, rhythmic throbbing that reminded me I was still human, still fragile, still bound by the laws of oxygen and bone. I watched a trail of silver bubbles float upward—my last breath, escaping into the abyss. Is this how it ends? I thought, my mind drifting toward the image of Elena in her nursery. Did I trade my life for his sanity? Above me, the water suddenly erupted. A massive, glowing shape

  • Bait for the devil    29. THE ABYSS OF THE APEX

    I stood at the helm of the Valkyrie, a high-speed, blacked-out interceptor boat designed for Syndicate smuggling. It was a vessel of silent lethality, its twin engines humming with a suppressed growl that barely rose above the roar of the gale. My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes locked on the holographic Bond-Tracker I had rigged to the dashboard. The tracker was a jagged, pulsing violet line. It wasn’t steady. It was erratic, jumping and flatlining like a dying heart. It was the visual representation of my connection to Girard—a link that Lucian Moretti had turned into a barbed-wire leash. “Proximity: two hundred meters,” the onboard computer chirped in a cold, synthetic tone. “Bio-signature: unstable. Elevated adrenaline. Accelerated cellular regeneration.” “He’s fighting it,” I whispered, my voice lost to the wind. “He’s trying to stay under the water to keep the fire in his brain from exploding.” Suddenly, a series of bright, blinding flares eru

  • Bait for the devil    THE NEUTRALIZING LUNA

    The silence following Girard’s departure was more deafening than the storm. As the white-lightning aura of his body vanished beneath the churning black waves of the Mediterranean, the Lien de Sang didn’t just go cold—it went flat. It was the terrifying stillness of a heart monitor that had stopped its rhythmic beep.  I stood at the edge of the jagged stone gap in the library wall, rain-soaked and shivering. The copper taste was still thick in my mouth, a lingering reminder of Lucian Moretti’s poison, but it was being replaced by the acrid scent of ozone and the heavy weight of realization. My husband hadn’t just fled; he had sacrificed his presence to save my life from the agony he felt when we were near.  “Madame!”  The voice was ragged. I turned to see Bastien stumbling into the ruined library. His tactical gear was shredded, and a deep gash across his shoulder was weeping crimson, but his eyes were clear—and filled with a desperate, mounting dread. He looked at the broken wall,

  • Bait for the devil    The GHOST and the GRAVE

    *ARIELLE’s POV**The North Tower had gone from a sanctuary to a tomb in the span of an hour. I stood in the center of the library, the glow of six different computer monitors casting a sickly, pale light over my skin. My hands were shaking so violently I had to grip the edge of the mahogany desk just to keep from collapsing. Below, in the bowels of the estate, I could hear the sounds of a nightmare: the splintering of wood, the roar of a beast that had forgotten its name, and the terrified shouts of guards who didn’t know whether to protect their Alpha or run from him. The Lien de Sang was no longer a conversation; it was a scream. Every time Girard smashed a door or tore through a stone wall in his feral state, I felt the phantom impact in my own skull. The “ice” had turned into a searing, acidic heat. It felt as if my very soul were being sandpapered raw. “Think, Arielle. Think,” I whispered to myself, my eyes scanning the scrolls of data I had pulled from my fath

  • Bait for the devil    26. The Taste of Copper

    **Arielle’s POV** The air in the nursery changed in a heartbeat. One moment, the room was filled with the sweet, milky scent of Elena’s sleep and the lavender-infused warmth of the afternoon sun. The next, a draft cut through the chamber—cold, sterile, and carrying a faint metallic tang that sat on the back of my tongue like a copper coin. I frowned, glancing at the arched window. I was sure I had latched it. In a house like this, where every shadow was a potential threat and every breeze was monitored by sensors, a sudden draft was enough to make the hair on my arms stand up. I walked over to the glass, my fingers brushing the stone frame. It was locked. Secure. Yet, the smell of copper grew stronger, thickening until it felt like a film coating my throat. Elena. I whirled around, my heart leaping into my throat. My daughter was still sleeping, but her breathing had changed. It was no longer the soft, rhythmic puffing of a contented infant; it was jagged, her tiny chest hitc

  • Bait for the devil    25. The Architect of Agony

    **LUCIAN’s POV** Rome was a city built on the bones of the conquered, and as I stood in the subterranean depths of the Moretti estate, I felt like the rightful heir to that legacy.Upstairs, the villa was a masterpiece of Renaissance art and sun-drenched marble, but down here, in the sub-basement my father had converted into a black-site laboratory, the air was cold, recycled, and carried the faint, metallic tang of blood and ozone. It was a place of science, not tradition. My family had spent generations relying on the blunt force of the Mafia—on intimidation, silver bullets, and the primitive violence of the street.My brother, Dante, had been the pinnacle of that stupidity. He had gone to Marseille with a god-complex and a handful of stolen serum, thinking he could break a Roux Alpha with chains. He had failed because he didn’t understand that you don’t break a wolf by hitting it. You break a wolf by poisoning the ground it stands on.I stood before a wall of liquid-crystal

  • Bait for the devil    22. The Aftermath of Fire

    The master suite felt different that night. The fireplace was roaring, casting long, dancing shadows across the velvet curtains and the mahogany furniture. For the first time since I had been traded to this house, the air didn’t feel heavy with secrets. It felt light. It felt like victory.

    last updateZuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-03-28

  • Bait for the devil    21. The seven minutes of hell

    The attack wasn’t physical. It was as if the air had turned into liquid lead, pouring into my ears and eyes. The Seven—the pack’s most ancient shifters—didn’t move. They simply stared. Through the Lien de Sang, I felt a sudden, violent surge of images that weren’t mine. I saw the cellar where I

    last updateZuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-03-27

  • Bait for the devil    20. The judgement of the moon

    The descent from the private jet into the cool, salt-heavy air of Marseille felt like stepping into the mouth of a waiting beast. We didn’t head for the limestone arches of the estate. We didn’t head for the safety of our bedroom. The black SUVs sped toward the northern cliffs, where the ancient am

    last updateZuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-03-26

  • Bait for the devil    19. The Silent Island

    The hum of the private jet’s engines was a low, vibrating drone that seemed to pulse in time with the headache throbbing behind my eyes. I sat in the oversized leather captain’s chair, staring out the window at the French coastline as it blurred into a smear of indigo and charcoal. We were flyi

    last updateZuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-03-25
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