First Person’s PerspectiveHermioneI never thought this would be my life.The wind was cruel tonight. It whipped against my skin, tearing through the thin cloak I had wrapped tightly around me. It wasn’t just cold—it bit, like punishment from the Moon Goddess herself. My boots were soaked, muddied from walking aimlessly all day, and my feet were blistered and raw. Every step felt like walking on fire, but I couldn’t stop moving. If I stopped, I’d fall apart.The noblewoman I once was… she didn’t exist anymore. She died the moment my mother slammed the door in my face, told the guards not to let me back in, and cursed my name like I was a disgrace to the bloodline.Now I was something else. Something less. Something invisible.I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. All I had were the scraps an old vendor threw at me after he chased me away from his cart like I was vermin. The stale bread still sat in my pocket, hard as stone now, but I didn’t dare throw it away. Hunger had a way of h
Salvatore’s POV – Third Person LimitedThe Great Hall was packed, a low murmur crawling along the stone walls like static before a storm.Every eye was on him—some wide with curiosity, others narrowed in suspicion, a few flashing with quiet defiance. Salvatore stood tall at the head of the room, his shoulders squared, his eyes flint-hard as they scanned the assembled crowd. Tension curled in his gut, but it didn’t show on his face. He was their Alpha, and his command was no longer up for debate. Not today.He wasn’t just their leader anymore. Today, he was their reckoning.“Everyone, gather!” His voice was like a crack of thunder. “This is not a private matter anymore.”His voice rang out across the polished floors and stone pillars, echoing through the cavernous hall with undeniable authority. People poured in from every wing of the compound—warriors still clad in training gear, omegas with hesitant eyes, elders leaning on polished canes, younger wolves clutching their cloaks tighter
First Person’s PerspectiveSalvatore’s POVThe room was filled with nothing but the sound of her shallow breathing.I stood there, frozen, staring at Elena’s fragile body on the cold floor. Her skin was covered in bruises, her lip was busted, and dried blood clung to the side of her head. She was barely conscious.“Elena,” I whispered, but my voice cracked like glass under pressure.My heart pounded hard against my chest, each beat feeling like it was echoing through my body. It was the pain I had been feeling for days now, the gnawing emptiness, the frantic dread. It all made sense. It was hers. She had been suffering this entire time, and I hadn’t gotten to her in time.I bent down quickly and gathered her gently into my arms. Her body was limp, almost weightless. The scent of blood and dust clung to her, and I could feel a rage so violent and raw swell inside me that it took everything in me not to scream.Her lips moved weakly. “S…Salvatore…”“I’m here, baby,” I whispered, holding
First Person’s PerspectiveElenaMy body ached.Everywhere.It wasn’t just pain—it was suffering, embedded deep into my bones. Like someone had peeled back the layers of my skin and poured agony into every exposed nerve. The kind of pain that lives beneath the surface, throbbing in quiet pulses, reminding you that you’re still alive… but barely.Each breath sent a sharp sting racing across my ribs. The lashes on my back burned like fire had been poured into the wounds, and every shift of movement made it worse. My wrists were swollen, raw and bloody, torn open from the rough ropes that had kept me tied for what felt like days.I couldn’t move. My head spun every time I blinked. My throat was dry, like sandpaper scraped down my esophagus, and my mouth tasted like copper. Blood.I didn’t know why I was still alive.Maybe Olivia had changed her mind. Maybe she wanted me to survive, to feel every ounce of her hatred. To walk around bearing the marks of her cruelty like a brand. Or maybe i
First person’s perspectiveSalvatore’s POVI stared at the same page for over an hour.The words had long stopped making sense. Lines blurred together, smearing into meaningless ink despite my desperate attempts to focus. My hand gripped the pen too tightly, the pressure leaving deep grooves in the wood. The document in front of me—territorial maps, strategic notes—none of it could hold my attention. Not when her voice echoed like a ghost in my head.Her scream. Her eyes. Her tears.Elena.I had replayed the moment a thousand times. The horror in her face when she saw me with my hand wrapped around my mother’s throat. The way she’d shouted my name—not with fear of me, but fear for me. For what I was becoming.It made my blood run cold.I had never lost control like that. But when Olivia raised her hand to Elena, when she dared to strike her in front of me—it was like something inside me cracked open. It wasn’t rage. It was something far more dangerous. Primal. Final.And now, no matte
Elena’s POV When I opened my eyes, I wished I hadn’t.Yesterday’s memory hit me like a stone to the chest—Salvatore’s hand around his mother’s throat, the wild fury in his eyes, her face pale and twisted in shock, the way her lips gasped for air. My screams still echoed in my ears. I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach, which twisted with guilt, fear, and something colder—dread.I had never seen him like that before. Not even close. There was always a storm in Salvatore, but yesterday, it had broken free.And I couldn’t shake the image from my mind.I sat up slowly, my muscles aching with tension. The bed felt colder than usual, empty of the warmth I once found in it. The soft light that filtered through the tall windows painted the room gold, but it couldn’t warm the leaden feeling inside me. I ran a hand over the sheets beside me. Cold. He hadn’t come to bed.Of course, he hadn’t.I swung my legs over the edge and stood up, a l