LOGINI died once. My pack slaughtered. My blood spilled beneath the claws of the Alpha who destroyed everything I loved. But death didn’t keep me. The Moon Goddess pulled me back reborn with only one purpose. Vengeance. Now I walk into the heart of Bloodveil Pack, hiding my true identity. He doesn’t recognize me. Not the girl he crushed beneath his rule. Not the omega who swore she’d see him burn. But fate is cruel. The bond ties me to him Cain Blackthorn, the ruthless Alpha, my sworn enemy… and my mate. Every step I take brings me closer to revenge… and deeper into his darkness. Behind his cold strength lies a curse tearing him apart, and only I can soothe it. To save myself, I must destroy him. To save him, I must betray myself. In a world of blood, lies, and the Moon Goddess’s wrath, love is the most dangerous trap of all.
View MoreThe night my pack burned, the sky was painted red.
Smoke filled my lungs as I ran, stumbling over the torn bodies of wolves I had known my whole life. The cries of children were drowned beneath the roars of warriors, the clash of teeth, the screams of dying mothers.
And at the center of it all was him.
Alpha Cain.
The man whose name was whispered like a curse. The man whose shadow stretched longer than any nightmare. His wolves tore through mine as if we were nothing but prey. His commands cut sharper than steel, and the Bloodveil warriors obeyed without hesitation.
I had thought death would come in the form of claws, or fangs ripping into my throat. But instead, it came slowly, through betrayal, through fire, through a smile I will never forget.
I remember it too clearly.
I was kneeling in the mud, blood dripping down my side from a wound that refused to close. My wolf whimpered inside me, broken, too weak to heal. My parents were already dead. My brother lay motionless at my feet. And the man who stood over me looked at me not with rage… but with amusement.
Cain’s dark eyes locked onto mine, sharp as blades. His lips curled into a smile, cold and cruel, as if my suffering entertained him.
“You fought well, little omega,” he said. His voice was deep, steady, too calm for the chaos around us. “But your fight ends here.”
That smile was the last thing I saw before the blade slid between my ribs.
I gasped, choking on my own blood. My fingers clawed at the earth, but my strength was gone. The world blurred around the edges. The fire, the screams, even the pounding of paws faded into silence.
And Cain, Cain leaned closer, watching the light fade from my eyes.
I died with his smile carved into my soul.
But death was not the end.
There was only darkness at first. Endless, suffocating darkness. I floated in it, weightless, lost, unable to breathe, unable to scream. My body was gone, yet my mind clung to pain, to rage, to the memory of his smile.
Do you hate him?
The voice was soft, feminine, but filled with a power that thrummed through my veins.
“Yes,” I whispered into the void, though I had no lips, no breath. Only thought. Only fire. “I hate him.”
Do you want to live?
“I’m dead.”
Do you want revenge?
The question seared into me like a brand. Images of my family’s torn bodies filled the darkness. My pack, slaughtered. My blood soaking into the dirt. Cain’s smile. Always that smile.
“Yes,” I said. “Bring me back. I’ll kill him myself.”
The darkness trembled. I felt heat wrap around me, burning, reshaping, pulling me together from ashes and memory. Something ancient pressed against my soul, something divine.
Then rise, child. But remember: every gift has its price.
I woke with a scream.
Cold air hit my lungs like knives. My chest heaved as I clawed at the earth, dirt and leaves sticking beneath my nails. My body shook violently, drenched in sweat, though the night air was frigid.
I was lying in the forest. Alone.
Alive.
My hand flew to my chest, to the place where Cain’s blade had pierced me. The wound was gone, no gaping hole, no blood. But when I tugged my torn shirt aside, a scar ran across my ribs. Jagged, angry, a reminder that I had died.
“What… what happened?” My voice cracked, hoarse from screaming.
My wolf stirred inside me, weak but alive. She whimpered, confused, but her presence filled me with a surge of hope. I hadn’t lost her.
I dragged myself to my knees, every muscle aching as if I’d been beaten for days. My limbs felt heavier, colder. My senses sharper. My ears caught the rustle of leaves miles away, my nose the faint scent of iron and ash.
Something had changed.
I should have felt relief. But all I felt was rage.
Memories came back in shards, stabbing me from every angle. My brother’s lifeless eyes. My mother’s scream. My father’s body ripped open. Cain’s blade. Cain’s smile.
My pack was gone. Everything I loved was gone.
And yet I was still here.
Why me? Why had I been spared?
The answer struck me as quickly as the question. I hadn’t been spared. I had been chosen. By whatever force pulled me back, by whatever cruel goddess decided I wasn’t finished yet.
My hands curled into fists. “You should have killed me properly, Cain.”
A sharp pain spread through my chest, not from the scar, but deeper, in my soul. A pull. A strange, invisible tether, dragging me in a direction I didn’t understand.
I froze.
“No…” I whispered. “It can’t be.”
I knew what it was. Every wolf did. The mate bond.
Impossible.
The pull led me toward him. Toward Cain.
The Alpha who slaughtered my pack. The man who ended my life.
Fate had bound me to my enemy.
The thought made bile rise in my throat. I doubled over, gagging, shaking with fury. The bond thrummed in my veins, a heartbeat not my own, as if my soul recognized his.
“No,” I hissed. “No, no, no.”
My wolf whimpered, torn between fear and longing. I shoved her down, locking the bond away behind my rage.
I would not be his.
I would never be his.
The mate bond might have chosen him, but I still had my choice. And I chose vengeance.
I pressed a trembling hand against the scar on my chest, feeling the faint burn beneath my skin, and I made my vow.
“I will kill you, Alpha Cain,” I whispered into the night, my voice steady despite the tears burning my eyes. “I don’t care if the Moon Goddess herself bound us. I don’t care what curse brought me back. I will end you.”
The forest was silent, as if listening. The moon hung heavy above me, its pale light bathing the scar on my chest, its silver glow colder than ever before.
I stood on shaking legs. I was weak, broken, barely holding myself together, but I was alive. Alive with hate. Alive with purpose.
And the bond that pulled me toward him would be my weapon.
If fate wanted me bound to the Alpha who killed me, then I would use it. I would step into his world, wear a mask, play the role fate forced on me. I would get close enough to hear his heart beat. Close enough to watch his smile fade.
And then I would drive a blade into his chest, the way he did to me.
The way I had dreamed of in the darkness.
The way I would until the day I finally saw him bleed.
I wiped the dirt from my face, lifted my chin, and took my first step back into the world of the living.
The hunt had begun.
CAINThe city exhales behind us.Not relief.Intent.You can feel the difference when pursuit has been authorized—not shouted, not panicked, but approved. Footsteps gain rhythm. Routes close quietly. The hunt stops being personal and becomes infrastructural.“They’ll seal the lower wards first,” I say as we cut through a service corridor veined with old glyphwork. “Then the river bridges.”Lyra keeps pace beside me, breath steady, attention split between the present street and whatever undercurrent the Hollow is tracking beneath it.“They’re not rushing,” she murmurs. “They’re waiting for alignment.”I nod grimly.“They want permission to be cruel.”That’s when violence becomes efficient.LYRAThe Hollow is restless—not hungry, not reactive.Alert.It keeps brushing against thresholds in the city’s memory, places where names were erased cleanly enough that no one remembers they’re missing. Those absences glow now like coals beneath ash.“They’re activating old enforcement channels,” I
LYRAThe city does not wait for proof.That’s the second truth I learn.By the time the towers come back into view, the air has already changed—not with panic, but with organization. Fear has found language. Rumor has found structure.People aren’t asking what happened.They’re asking who to blame.I feel it before I hear it, the way attention snags on my skin, the way whispers bend around my silhouette like wind around a blade. The Hollow hums faintly in my chest, unsettled but alert.“They’re talking,” I murmur.Cain’s jaw tightens. “About you.”“Yes.”Not us.Me.That distinction matters.CAINThey’re setting the story before we arrive.I recognize the signs: guards posted where there were none yesterday, council messengers moving too quickly to be improvising, the way civilians pull children closer without knowing why.Narrative containment.It always starts this way.“Stay close,” I say quietly.Lyra doesn’t bristle.She doesn’t comply either.She simply walks beside me—present,
LYRAThe Devourer does not announce itself.That’s how I know it’s learned.We’re barely beyond the outer path when the air changes, not colder, not heavier, just… attentive. Like something has leaned closer without touching.Cain feels it a second after I do. His steps slow. His spine tightens.“You feel that,” I murmur.“Yes.”He doesn’t ask what it is.Good.The Hollow is quiet inside me, not absent, not withdrawn.Watching.That’s when the voice arrives.Not in my head.Between us.You are wasting leverage.I stop walking.Cain does too, immediately, instinctively, half-turning toward me, scanning the treeline, the roots, the shadowed rise of stone ahead.“Devourer,” he says flatly.Alpha, it replies, almost indulgent. Or are we pretending that title still matters?I feel it press, not against my mind, but against the space around my choices. Like a hand hovering near my shoulder, never quite landing.You could have owned that square, it continues. You chose departure instead.“I
LYRAThey don’t touch me.That’s the first thing I notice as the guards close in.They circle.They signal.They tighten formation.But none of them reach for me.Fear has recalibrated their instincts. I’m no longer a person to restrain—I’m a variable.Marked things don’t get handled casually.Cain shifts in front of me without looking back. Not possessive. Not dramatic.Deliberate.A line drawn without ceremony.“You will stand down,” he says.No Alpha command.No roar.Just certainty.The guards hesitate anyway—because fear doesn’t erase training. It complicates it.“She’s compromised,” an elder snaps. “We don’t know what she’ll trigger next.”I feel the Hollow stir—not defensive, not offended.Observant.“I don’t trigger,” I say hoarsely. “I transmit.”That lands worse.Murmurs ripple through the square—panic wearing the language of reason.Cain’s shoulders square.CAINThis is where power usually answers fear.This is where an Alpha asserts hierarchy, dominance, threat.I don’t.B






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