The grand entrance to the mansion loomed before Erika as two servants pulled open the towering oak doors. The foyer was immense, with marble floors polished to a mirror-like gleam, gilded railings that spiraled upward to a grand staircase, and chandeliers dripping with crystals that caught and refracted the flickering light of candles. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but Erika couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d stepped into a cage, no matter how opulent its bars.
Hugo ushered her forward with a gesture, his usual stoicism intact. “This way,” he said, his voice reverberating off the high ceilings.
Erika clutched her bag tightly as they passed through halls adorned with oil paintings of Lycans in regal poses, their golden eyes seeming to follow her.
At the end of the hallway, double doors opened to a study bathed in warm, golden light. A tall figure stood by the fireplace, his back to her. He wore a dark suit tailored to perfection, and his posture was rigid, exuding power.
“Alpha,” Hugo announced. “Your bride has arrived.”
The man turned, and Erika’s breath caught in her throat. Diego was handsome in a way that felt almost unreal—his chiseled features illuminated by the firelight, his dark eyes as piercing as they were inscrutable. Yet there was a coldness about him, a calculating aura that sent shivers down her spine even as her cheeks warmed under his gaze.
“So,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You’re Erika Regis, my future luna.”
Erika stiffened but managed a polite nod. “Yes, Alpha.”
Diego’s lips quirked slightly, though the gesture held no warmth. He turned to Hugo. “Have dinner served immediately. I’ll take it with my bride in the dining hall.”
The dining hall was as overwhelming as the rest of the mansion. A long table stretched nearly the length of the room, its surface gleaming under the light of more chandeliers. The walls were lined with towering windows, the drapes drawn back to reveal the night sky.
Diego pulled out a chair for Erika at one end of the table before seating himself at the other. The distance between them was both literal and figurative, and Erika couldn’t help but feel like she was being observed from a predator’s perch.
Servants moved with practiced precision, placing plates of elaborate dishes before them. Erika barely touched her food, too aware of Diego’s penetrating gaze.
“Don’t mistake this for a fairy tale,” Diego said abruptly, breaking the silence, “You’re here because it’s necessary, Erika.”
Her fork paused mid-air, her appetite vanishing. “I… I understand.”
“It is more political than romantic, I assure you,” he continued, his tone as unyielding as steel. “Your duty is to me, and only me. The household is managed by my mother, Dunia. You will have nothing to do with its affairs.”
Erika’s heart sank at the finality in his voice. It felt as though the freedom she’d longed for beyond the Abbey was slipping further away.
Diego’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You will seek my permission for everything—your clothes, your activities, where you go. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Alpha,” she replied softly, her hands clenching in her lap.
“I’m glad we’re clear,” he said, reaching for his wine goblet. “Oh… and one more thing… you must address me as Alpha at all times. Even if it’s just the two of us.”
She nodded. And yet, despite the coldness of his words, Erika couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. There was something magnetic about his presence, something that made her want, inexplicably, to prove herself. If not to win his love, then at least his approval.
As dessert was served, the sound of heels clacking against the marble floor drew Erika’s attention to the doorway. A woman entered, her presence both commanding and oddly charming. Dunia Di Rocco was beautiful in a severe way, with high cheekbones, sharp eyes, and a smile that seemed permanently plastered to her face.
“Diego,” she said warmly, her gaze flicking briefly to Erika. “You should have called me to meet your bride sooner.”
Erika stood, unsure whether to bow or extend her hand. Dunia closed the distance and placed her hands lightly on Erika’s shoulders.
“So young,” she murmured, her eyes raking over Erika as though appraising a piece of art. “But lovely. Diego, you’ve chosen well.”
Diego offered no response, merely sipping his wine.
Dunia turned back to Erika with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I assume Diego has explained the arrangement to you?”
Erika hesitated. “Somewhat.”
“Well, let me be direct,” Dunia said, her voice saccharine. “After dinner, you’ll proceed to the bride’s chambers. You need to fit your gown for tomorrow’s ceremony. We need to be prepared for any alterations.”
Erika’s stomach clenched. “Tomorrow? Already?”
Dunia waved a hand dismissively. “Of course. Why wait longer?” She glanced at Diego. “You told her, didn’t you?”
Diego leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “I told her enough.”
Satisfied, Dunia clapped her hands for the servants. “Prepare the gown immediately.” She left the room with a flourish, her voice echoing orders down the hall.
Erika turned to Diego, her heart racing. “Tomorrow? But—”
Diego’s eyes darkened. “After me, you are to do anything my mother asks without question.”
The finality in his tone made Erika’s protests die in her throat. She nodded silently, the realization settling over her like a shroud— Dunia was the real Luna of this household.
The bride’s chambers were lavish but stifling, with a massive four-poster bed and a wardrobe that stretched from floor to ceiling. Everything in this mansion made her feel small. Inconsequential.
Dunia supervised as three female servants helped her into the gown—a diaphanous creation that glimmered in the candlelight, barely covering her most private parts, leaving little to the imagination.
“A perfect fit,” Dunia declared, her expression unreadable as Erika smoothed the dress around her hips. “Be ready to catch Diego’s eyes when it jumps off its sockets.” She giggled.
Erika felt her cheeks flush as Dunia inspected her, the weight of the older woman’s gaze making her skin prickle.
“Tomorrow will be the peak of the Hunter’s Moon,” Dunia said, her voice soft but pointed. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Erika nodded, swallowing hard, unsure how to respond. Every full moon, Lycans experienced a heightened libido, especially in women— and much more during a Hunter’s Moon.
Dunia’s lips curved into a smile that made Erika shiver. “Good. I can’t wait to see your little pups running around the mansion. Just remember—don’t let your wolf out until your Alpha commands you to.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, though she didn’t fully understand. Erika held Dunia’s gaze, her heart pounding as questions swirled in her mind. But she said nothing, knowing instinctively that asking would only make her more vulnerable.
As the servants adjusted the gown one last time, Erika stared at her reflection in the mirror. The girl looking back at her seemed like a stranger—a pawn in a game she didn’t yet know how to play.
The night was a cloak of darkness as Diego’s group pressed toward the palace gates. Cloaked in heavy, dark fabrics that hid their gleaming armor and weapons, Diego led his pack through the throng of angry citizens gathering outside the Citadel. The crowd’s chant—“We want justice! No more deaths! We want justice!”—swept around them like a rising tide, a volatile mixture of hope and rage.As they moved with practiced stealth, Diego’s sharp eyes caught movement among the people. Emerging from the crowd, a familiar face stepped forward— Tristan. His expression was a mix of concern and disbelief, and he glanced around nervously.“Diego! What are you doing here, man?”He leaned in close, ensuring no one else overheard. “It’s brave of you to show up, but it’s not wise. You must get out of here before the guards see you.”Diego’s jaw tightened. His voice dropped to
Back at the safe house—a dilapidated stone building hidden deep within the forest—Diego and his pack finally found a moment of respite. The adrenaline of the Citadel assault still pulsed in their veins, and exhaustion mingled with the bitter taste of blood and uncertainty. In a sparsely lit common room, the survivors huddled around a scarred wooden table, patches of moonlight seeping through the narrow windows.Diego sat heavily in a rickety chair, his mind a jumble of victorious flashes and looming dread. He rubbed a hand over his bruised face, trying to reconcile the chaos of the previous night with the silent calm that now enveloped them.Alessandro broke the heavy silence, his voice low and resolute. “Alpha, we did what we could. But this was only the first blow.”Diego’s eyes flicked over the faces of his pack—Pippo’s steady gaze, Aristide’s determined frown, Sofia’s quiet assurance, and Lucia’s al
Across the sprawling city, the revelation of damning evidence displayed on every screen sent shockwaves through the hearts of Lycans and humans alike. In bustling marketplaces, somber faces turned toward flickering displays, while loyalists of The Board exchanged horrified glances as records of corruption, bribery, and clandestine orders—painfully detailed in ink and parchment—unfurled before them.Deep within the inner sanctum of The Board’s Citadel, chaos reigned. In a vast council chamber adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded accents, high-ranking officials scrambled in frantic whispers and hurried footsteps. The polished marble floor, once a symbol of order and power, now echoed with the panicked clatter of advisors desperate to scrub away the truth.At the head of the chamber, seated upon an imposing throne of darkened iron and gold, the Lycan King glared at a massive screen where the evidence continued to scroll relentlessly. His eyes, burn
The evidence lay before them— a damning collection of ledgers, secret communications, and unspeakable transactions that painted The Board as the true architects of their oppression. For weeks after escaping Blackthorn, sleepless hours had been spent poring over these documents. Now, as dawn broke over the Citadel, the weight of truth charged the air like electricity.In a concealed antechamber near the Citadel’s heart— a labyrinth of twisting corridors and shadowed betrayals—the group gathered around a battered wooden table. Malrik presided over the meeting as they reviewed their next move.Their objective was clear: infiltrate the central communications hub of The Board and release the evidence for all to see. It was a plan born of desperation and hope— a final blow meant to shatter the foundation of the corrupt regime.Diego’s gaze was resolute as he scanned the map spread out
The Citadel’s inner corridors stretched out before them, a labyrinth of cold stone and whispered secrets. In the aftermath of the fierce battle outside, every step now was heavy with both hope and danger. As she led the small team deeper into the fortress, Erika could feel the pulse of history in the very walls, and with it, the weight of a future she had vowed to reclaim.Even in the tense silence of those shadowed passageways, the sounds of the ongoing struggle echoed in the distance—shouts, clashing steel, and the rhythmic thud of determined feet. Diego’s pack was with them. The faces of Alessandro, Pippo, Aristide, Sofia, and Lucia were etched with resolve despite fresh wounds from Blackthorn. Their presence bolstered her spirit, a reminder that she was not alone in this fight.They emerged into a wide antechamber where dim torchlight danced across rows of ancient ledgers and scattered parchments. The walls, heavy with the scent of dust and time,
The night was near absolute darkness as Erika crept along the outer perimeter of the Citadel. Every step was measured and silent, her heartbeat the only sound in the void. The Citadel—an imposing fortress of cold stone and iron—loomed ahead, its high walls nearly blending with the starless sky. She clutched her dagger tightly, her senses heightened not just by adrenaline but by a deep, unyielding resolve.Inside her mind, memories of the rebellion’s cause stirred: the harsh truths Malrik had revealed, the corruption of The Board, and the painful loss of her family. Though she fought for justice, a part of her still ached with longing for the life she’d once known—a life now replaced by duty and the weight of a new life growing inside her.From the shadows, she saw movement—a group of guards, patrolling the wall like silent wraiths. She pressed herself against the cold stone and drew a slow breath. If we’re going to infiltra