MasukMarcellous's Point Of View“I don’t know and I don’t wish to meet you!”Ryker’s shoulders were shaking violently when he finally blurted out his furious outburst, glaring up at me with sheer venom.“After decades of your kind confining my people to this rotting wasteland, do you honestly think I want to see your damn face?!”“You are not the one asking questions in this room, warlock.”I straightened up slowly from my seat, my body radiating a terrifying, suffocating aura fueled by pure disdain and defiance.“I want a direct explanation of this.”I flicked my fingers casually. A tiny silver fragment flashed, glimmering sharply in the dim air before it dropped with a soft clatter, landing right on the dusty floorboards in front of Ryker.Ryker shook his upper body violently to shove away the two elite Lycans who had forced him down. With a single, lazy wave of my hand, the guards released their grip and stepped back.Ryker grunted in pain, clutching his side and shooting a venomous gl
Evander's Point Of ViewMarcellous's eyes remained locked dead onto Raven's, refusing to break eye contact for even a fraction of a second as the sheer weight of his presence pressed down on the warlock's chest. I casually stepped past the frozen warlock, inviting myself right through the front doors as Marcellous and I walked straight into the manor's great hall. The air inside smelled of dust, mold, and decaying wood. Marcellous slowly walked in a wide circle around Raven, tracking him like an apex predator evaluating a piece of meat. He circled the man twice, let out a sharp, dismissive click of his tongue, and casually strolled over to sit down on a large, velvet-backed armchair sitting near the cold fireplace. Raven was already beginning to visibly shake. Beads of cold sweat were breaking out across his forehead, his pale skin turning an unhealthy shade of grey. I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to walk over, pat the poor bastard on the shoulder, and whisper: ‘Yeah, man...
Evander's Point Of ViewI have been solemnly mourning the death of my father for so damn long that I'd completely forgotten how terrifying the dangerous aura around Marcellous actually felt when he was out for blood.Nate, that bastard, had somehow found a clever way to dodge his primary responsibilities today. He magically found a convenient excuse to not follow us to meet the warlocks, claiming he had urgent security reports to review back at the perimeter. He knew damn well that things weren't going to end well during this little diplomatic visit, so the motherfucker chickened right out and left me to deal with the fallout.I shook my head quietly, glancing over at the Marcellous sitting beside me in the back of the SUV. Marcellous's face had been a wall of stone since early this morning—no emotion, no movement, just a deadly, silent storm brewing beneath his skin.We were sitting in the lead car of a convoy, rolling down the cracked asphalt toward the main warlock conclave. Beh
Divina I still didn't know how Shadhira managed to locate the house without asking a single soul for directions, but we arrived safely. All throughout the rest of the journey, not a single word was spoken between us. On the way, she had briefly pulled up near a small store and thrown a brand-new phone into my lap. I was at least grateful for that, even if she hadn't bothered to give me Marcel's contact number. I wished so badly that I had asked him for his number back at the fortress, or at least written it down on a scrap piece of paper. For now, the phone was practically useless for calling the one person I actually wanted to talk to, but at least it would keep me away from boredom. It had been a really long time since I owned my own phone... ever since my father died, my adoptive mother had taken it away from me. Back then, I used to have the latest iPhone because my father always made sure I had the best of everything. The phone sitting in my palm now was an iPhone, but
Marcellous's POVI walked back into my private study, the doors closing softly behind me, sealing me inside the suffocating quiet.I walked over to the bar, poured myself a glass of whiskey, and walked straight over to the tall arched window overlooking the vast courtyard of my fortress. The night air outside was cold, crisp, and completely empty.I swallowed the burning liquid in a single gulp, my chest heaving as pure, unfiltered frustration clawed at my insides.I was going out of my mind. Shadhira leaving with my mate was like a physical blade being twisted directly into my ribs. Deep down, the rational part of my brain knew it was for Divina's own survival—I knew my overwhelming Alpha aura was actively clashing with her fragile, unawakened spirit. But knowing it didn't make it hurt any less.What drove me even crazier was the fact that I was actively forcing myself—holding back with every shred of my willpower—from walking down the hall into her empty bedroom just to bury my fa
Nate's POV"Exactly," Evander nodded grimly. It was a tiny, jagged fragment of pure witchglass—a black, almost translucent magical substance that only powerful dark warlocks use to channel high-tier spells and blood curses. To an untrained human eye, it looked like an ordinary piece of polished obsidian stone. But as the pale moonlight filtered down through the small window of the dungeon cell and hit the fragment, thin, glowing silver veins suddenly began to move and swirl inside it like living, breathing silver blood. "We think the exact same thing you're thinking right now," I said, pointing at the glowing fragment. "This stuff can only be created through ancient warlock blood magic. For all these years since the Great War, the warlocks have been keeping a low profile, hiding away in the dark mountains. However... during the height of the war between the supernatural factions and the demons, those fucking warlocks pledged their full allegiance to the demon horde, fully believing







