MasukJenn’s POV The dungeon was cold when I entered. Stone walls. Iron bars. The air smelled of damp and rust and something older. I had to admit that the Northern King’s dungeon did look somewhat ancient. I kept my thoughts to myself though, following him as he led me through a barrel corridor, deeper and deeper into darkness. Two guards flanked the door to Osiris cell. They straightened when they saw us. “Alpha Jenn,” one said in greeting, bowing slightly. “Alpha Vicktor.” “Thank you.” Vicktor said. “Move the prisoner to the interrogation room. Alpha Jenn would like to have a word with him.” He glanced at me after issuing the command. “Let’s wait for him in the interrogation room then. I’d like to have a word with you myself.” I followed him down another corridor which was shorter this time, until we reached a heavy wooden door. Vicktor pushed it open and gestured for me to enter. The interrogation room was smaller than I expected. A table, two chairs, a torch on the wall. Vickto
Jenn’s POV I was kneeling in the dirt. Liam’s head was in my lap. His skin was grey, his lips blue, the black veins of venom crawling up his neck like living things. “Stay with me,” I begged. My voice is raw and broken. “Please, stay with me.” His eyes fluttered open. They were glassy, unfocused. The bond between us felt like a thread stretched to its breaking point—thin, frayed, about to snap. “Jenn…” He called weakly. “No. Don’t talk. Save your strength.” I said with tears fighting it way down my face. But I had no antidote. No cure. Nothing but my hands pressing against his wound, trying to hold back the darkness I could feel spreading through him, is this it I thought?. Across the clearing, Morgan lay crumpled in the mud. Tristan was screaming her name, a raw, anguished sound that cut through the chaos. The mad Alpha was laughing. That horrible, demonic sound I’d heard him make when he revealed there was no antidote. When he’d smiled and told me I’d given him everything he
Jenn’s POV I still couldn’t understand it. Morgan’s blood was dried under my fingernails. My own sweat had dried it off. The door to Liam’s room clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, letting my eyes close for just a moment. My hands were still shaking. I looked down at them pale, trembling, the skin cracked and raw from channeling power. I still haven't fully soaked through my clothes. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest. But I couldn’t rest yet, could I?. Not when the one person who had ever made me feel alive instead of just surviving might not live long enough to remind me what that felt like. But Liam was in that bed. And he wasn’t breathing on his own. I pushed off the door and walked to his side. He looked smaller than I’d ever seen him. The Alpha King, the man who commanded armies, who made Alphas bow, who had looked at me across a crowded ballroom and seen his fated mate lay motionless beneath white sheets. His face was grey. His lips were tinged with blu
Morgan’s POV Darkness. There was nothing but darkness around me in this place where nothing existed. No sound. No smell. No weight of my own body. I floated in it. Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe there was no “I” anymore. This is death, I thought. Or would have thought, if thinking were still possible. But just then, I thought I saw something flicker. Or maybe I’d imagined it or maybe there was no imagination. “Morgan.” I felt the voice everywhere. “Morgan, come back.” The voice felt so familiar. I was sure I knew that voice. “Mom?” There was no answer. Just the feeling of hands inside me. It pulled, gathering the pieces of me that had started to scatter. “Not yet,” the voice said. “You still have time.” I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell them – whoever was speaking – that I’d made my choice. I’d saved Tristan. I’d done one good thing. Wasn’t that enough? “No,” the voice answered, as if reading my thoughts. “You still have more to do. They need you.” As if in answer, the darknes
Morgan’s POV The letter crumpled in my fist, Tristan’s words burned into my chest. Even if it costs my life. He was walking into my father’s trap. Walking to his death. And I was the only one who knew where – and when – my father would strike. The garage was empty when I reached it. Most of the vehicles were gone—taken by the Alpha King, probably, when he’d rushed after Jenn. But there was one left. An old pickup, keys dangling from the ignition. I didn’t wait to think about who it belonged to. The engine roared to life. I slammed it into gear and barreled through the gate, ignoring the shouts of the guards behind me. Five hours. That was how long it would take to reach the cemetery from here. Five hours of roads I knew by heart, roads I’d memorized when I was seventeen and planning an escape I’d never been brave enough to make. I drove faster than I should have. Faster than was safe. The needle climbed past eighty, ninety, a hundred. The trees blurred past. The baby kicked hard,
Morgan’s POV The cell was cold after Jenn left, but I barely noticed. I sat on the cot with my hands pressed against my stomach, staring at the door she’d closed behind her. Her voice was still ringing in my ears—softer than I deserved, steadier than I’d ever heard her. No one deserves to lose their fated mate. Not even you. I didn’t know why she’d said it. I didn’t know why she’d meant it. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Tristan. He’d been through so much. My betrayal. My father’s cruelty. The year he’d spent waiting to die in a cell that smelled like fear and rot. He’d done everything to protect me, and I’d only realized it when it was too late. And me? I’d never thought about our child. Not once. I’d used it like a weapon, a bargaining chip against my father, something to hold over Wade’s head. I’d told myself I would sacrifice it if my mission ever demanded it. I’d meant it. But now… Something fluttered in my belly. Soft. Quick. I pressed my palm flat against the spot, w







