“Rhunar, what happened to you?” Linda’s voice cracked, sharp with fear, her eyes wide as she stared at him. The sight made her chest tighten—the image of Lya’s body slamming against the tree was still fresh in her mind. She had heard bones snap on impact, the groan that escaped Lya before she crumpled to the ground like a broken doll. And Rhunar… he hadn’t even lifted a finger. Not a twitch, not a step forward. He had simply looked—and it happened.Linda’s pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn’t understand it. “How did you do that?” she whispered, her voice trembling.Rhunar’s—no, Vincent’s—gaze flicked toward her, sharp and merciless, and the air between them thickened, heavier than before. There was no warmth, no recognition in his eyes. They burned with something unfamiliar. “If you don’t want to end up like her, you better not fight,” he warned, his tone low and edged with menace.His arms shifted, tightening around Agatha’s limp body. He cradled her with a strange care, as thou
Rhunar“Where am I?”The words rip out of my throat before I even think. My head is heavy, my body heavier, like I’m chained down by weights I can’t see. I try to move, to stretch, to push myself up—but nothing happens.My muscles won’t obey.Panic spikes sharp and fast. My wolf growls deep inside, clawing at me, demanding release, but when I reach for him, there’s nothing. Just silence.I grit my teeth and force it. I push for the shift, waiting for the burn of bones snapping, for the surge of power to tear me free. But nothing comes. My skin doesn’t crawl. My wolf doesn’t rise. I am trapped in my own body.“What the hell is happening?” My voice cracks, rough, desperate.A voice answers from the shadows. Calm. Cold. Almost amused.“The vervain in your system is keeping you from transforming.”The words freeze me. My eyes dart around, trying to follow the sound, but all I see is black. Thick, endless black.My throat burns as I snarl, “What did you do to me?”The voice doesn’t flinch.
Vincent’s POV Damn it. I’m losing my fucking patience here. If this girl doesn’t drink the blood bag soon, I swear I’m going to rip every single one of them apart. That thought coils and uncoils inside my skull like a snake, hissing, striking, pressing against the thin thread of control I’m still clinging to. Pierre is already in my head, pushing, urging, his voice like claws dragging across stone. She needs to drink. Stop waiting. Stop wasting time. You know what happens if she doesn’t. My jaw aches from clenching so hard, but I don’t stop. I shift Agatha’s limp weight on my back, her body cold and unnervingly light, as if her soul has already started slipping away. Her skin brushes against mine—clammy, lifeless—and for a split second I almost believe she’s gone. But no. She can’t be. She’s the key. My way forward. I adjust my grip and march toward the car. My patience is bleeding out with every step. Then Linda’s voice slices into the air. Too sharp. Too whiny. “What
“What the hell is happening?!” Lya’s voice cracked as her eyes widened. Agatha was doubled over, coughing out blood in great, wet splatters. The thick crimson stained her hands and the dirt at her feet. The daylight glared down on all three of them, harsh and unforgiving, showing every detail of Agatha’s shaking body. Linda fumbled with her phone, her hands trembling so hard she nearly dropped it. “Oh my god—oh my god, I have to call Fenrik!” she shouted, her voice high with panic. She pressed his number with frantic fingers, holding the phone to her ear. Nothing. No ring, no voice. Just dead silence. “No, no, no, pick up!” Linda cried, stabbing the screen again and again, but Fenrik’s line wouldn’t connect. Her chest tightened as if someone had wrapped chains around her lungs. Her thumb hovered, desperate, and she quickly tried Ryan’s number. She pressed the phone so hard to her ear that it hurt, but instead of an answer, a cold robotic voice said, The number you are trying to re
“Really, guys? You’re going to be angry with me again?” Lya’s voice carried from the back seat, soft but edged with impatience. Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers brushing over the seam of her jeans as if the rough thread could hold her together. Her knee bounced against the seat in front of her, restless. “I thought I already apologized… for everything I did.” The silence in the car pressed heavier than the empty road outside. The hum of the tires filled the void, steady but suffocating. Linda kept her eyes on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. The dashboard light painted her knuckles pale and tense, the veins on her hands showing clear against her skin. She didn’t answer, didn’t even flick her gaze toward the rearview mirror. If anything, she leaned forward more, shoulders squared, like the stretch of highway demanded her whole attention. Beside her, Agatha sat with arms folded tightly across her chest. Her chin tilted high, but the sharpne
“Boss, can I talk to you in private? Away from her.” Ryan’s voice was low, almost cautious, but the way his eyes kept flicking toward Olinda betrayed his unease. His shoulders were tense, every muscle wired as though he expected her to leap across the table and tear out his throat. Fenrik leaned back in his chair, jaw tightening. The look he shot Ryan was half annoyance, half warning. “Okay, sure. But this better be good.” He shifted his gaze to Olinda. “Excuse me, Olinda.” She nodded lightly, lips curling into a knowing smirk. The glass in her hand tilted, red liquid swirling before she brought it to her lips. She didn’t protest, didn’t even pretend not to notice the suspicion in Ryan’s tone. If anything, her smile widened, as though she already knew every word they were about to say before they even said it. Fenrik stood, motioning for Ryan to follow. His boots echoed against the stone as they left the lounge, the sound bouncing off the walls in sharp beats. Ryan trailed close