LOGINCamille's POV
“M A R R I A G E ?” The word was threatening to choke the life out of me. This was one thing I had never anticipated. I had made it abundantly clear, even to the men in the pack, that I wasn’t ready to let any supposed ship sail. The word echoed through my mind, causing a tempest of chaos that made my insides churn. I craved to scream, to lash out, to grab hold of something, anything, yet my feet felt cemented to the floor. My body was unwilling, refused to respond; I couldn’t even feel it anymore. Opening my mouth to voice a protest, I snapped it shut when no words came out. Why did my tongue always betray me at the most critical moments? Father was still droning on, but my mind was floating away. Snap! Like a jolt of electricity, I jolted back to reality when I felt gentle tremors coursing through my fingers. “What…?” The word exploded from my lips. With a quick turn of my head, a derisive snicker escaped my lips. “This is some kind of joke, right, Father?” I declared, seething with mounting frustration. I looked from father to this breathtaking stranger sitting down calmly, clearly irritating me now with his eye-fu**ing. His eyes were roaming every curve of my body. This was normal. I got it all the time. I had an amazing body. At least the gods had spared me that lot and had ended up leaving me wolfless! Trade by barter, right? Even the men in the pack were learning the hard way to keep their lust to themselves. Two weeks before the academy resumed in the fall, and this is what I get? Marriage? Was this Father’s twisted form of punishment for my being wolfless? Rage pulsed within me, hot and furious. “I apologize for my daughter's unrestrained behavior. She isn’t always this poorly behaved,” Father said, directing his gaze toward Alpha Sigewuf. He completely ignored me, just as everyone else in the family did—dismissing my very existence like I was nothing more than a ghost. He passed on his piece, expecting me to choke it down, following suit like a lamb heading toward her own slaughter. His labored breathing radiated tension, thickening the air around us. While I knew he was desperately trying to rein in his fury in front of Alpha Sigewuf, my own anger was unnerving. My eyes turned to face the stranger, whose full lips suddenly made the words in my throat choke right there. Goodness! He was attractive. Mind you, I had never checked out a man in my entire life and I had no idea why I was doing that now Why did this one stranger who made my insides tinkle have to also be the reason why an important part of my life was to be snatched away? He stood up. A perfect 6’3”. It didn't surprise me he was that tall, almost making my height insignificant. The packs in the North were mostly lycans. The special breeds. Lycans were hybrids and higher in the power-ranking. They were more brutal, and their pride—well, it probably would come Summa Cum Laude if it were a person graduating from college. It was almost like the separation between our districts had been intentional since creation. The southern districts were made up of packs with wolves, while the northern district was made up of packs with Lycans. Alpha Sigewuf’s tall frame was clearly overpowering and imposing as he stood above me. A slow, predatory smile unfurled at the corner of his lips. Yanking my arm, he pulled me to himself. “The gods seem to have taken a liking to you, decidedly choosing you as my mate,” he muttered, placing his face around my neck as he sniffed in my scent. Mate? A Lycan alpha as my mate? I wasn't even interested in a relationship yet, more worse, marriage, or finding out who my mate was, which was almost impossible considering my wolfless state. “With all due respect, I…” “Shhhh,” he sighed, his hands on my neck again as he pulled me closer to himself, sniffing harder. Lycan or werewolf, if he thought he could impose himself on me, he had another thing coming. Pulling away from his grasp, I snapped, “What exactly are you doing?” I looked him in the eyes. “You can't come here acting like a freak and…” A flicker of something dark appeared on his face. “Being my mate does not give you the right to speak with such condescending words!” “Mate?” I scoffed. “With all due respect, alpha, I am no mate of which you seek.” His lips tilted upward with surprise. “You… you can't pick my scent?” Suddenly, the chasm between us felt agonizingly small. What did he mean by pick his scent? Was I supposed to pick his scent? His presence was suffocating—a heavy, oppressive weight bearing down on me—yet I remained rooted to the spot. His fingers curled around my neck. The tenderness in his eyes was gone. “You're wolfless,” he yelled, totally disgusted. “You're fu*king wolfless!” he snarled, smashing his fist into the wall behind me. I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see the disappointment I already knew was there. He figured it out. He figured out I was wolfless, and I didn't want to see the disappointment. His disappointment of me.Camille's POV Sigewuf’s lunge was desperate. violent. Nothing like the cowardly posture he’d always carried. Starting with the nearest enemy Lycan, Sigewuf’s claws sliced clean through flesh. His fist punched into its chest, ripping its heart free. Swift. Bloodied. Another silver bullet tore through the air but froze mid-flight between Sena’s fingers. Her speed was blinding, unnatural by a million seconds, and it felt good. Devon stood firm on both feet. I didn’t attack. Not yet. I wanted to serve him a little torture, something feral, animalistic, and utterly untamed. Devon lunged. Sharp claws dragged across the ground as he crouched, then leaped, landing with a force that made the earth tremble beneath his paws. Sena didn’t flinch. Her eyes were sharp, alert. Then the air shifted; tilted,charged. A shrill, piercing sound exploded, deafening and lethal. A sound no Lycan should ever hear. A torture to the mind. I saw Sigewuf clap his hands over his ears. Vikron stood
Camille's POV Sigewuf’s lunge was desperate. violent. Nothing like the cowardly posture he’d always carried.Starting with the nearest enemy Lycan, Sigewuf’s claws sliced clean through flesh. His fist punched into its chest, ripping its heart free.Swift.Bloodied.Another silver bullet tore through the air but froze mid-flight between Sena’s fingers.Her speed was blinding, unnatural by a million seconds, and it felt good.Devon stood firm on both feet. I didn’t attack.Not yet.I wanted to serve him a little torture, something feral, animalistic, and utterly untamed.Devon lunged. Sharp claws dragged across the ground as he crouched, then leaped, landing with a force that made the earth tremble beneath his paws.Sena didn’t flinch. Her eyes were sharp, alert.Then the air shifted; tilted,charged.A shrill, piercing sound exploded, deafening and lethal.A sound no Lycan should ever hear.A torture to the mind.I saw Sigewuf clap his hands over his ears. Vikron stood rigid, refusing
Camille's POV I felt it even before snapping my eyes open. The suffocating stench of danger and darkness.My eyes snapped open, the rhythm of my heartbeat made the hairs on my neck rise.The air felt dense with it.I sat up, shoving the covers aside. The night watchers, usually alert in the middle of the dome, were silent now, heads bowed unnaturally.I rushed to one and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face me.“Where’s Melinda?”Her eyes were dull. Empty. As if her mind was miles away. She didn’t even flinch.I pulled another witch. Same thing.A cold dread crawled down my spine.Then—the door behind us groaned, hinges dragging with a shrill scream.They stood there.Engineered Lycans. Towering. Powerful. Eyes glowing with the intent to kill.I straightened.“You want me?” I snarled, yanking my hair from its knot. “Then come get me.”They hurled forward.I crouched low—one hand on my baby bump, the other bracing on my thigh, when a surge of energy ripped through me. My eyes gli
MelindaThe blood-tasty bitch—her nemesis, the eternal curse of the witches.“Still as sensitive as always,” Rosalind chuckled, wickedness curling at the edges of her voice.Melinda didn’t answer. What was there to say? She could feel Rosalind’s hatred—even now, after all these years.Hatred that started with Alexa Woodland and twisted itself into an obsession so vile it sought to wipe out everything connected to her.“You killed him,” Melinda hissed through clenched teeth.Rosalind gasped dramatically, one hand to her chest as her sugary smile dropped.“Touchè.”“Melinda,” she cooed, feigning innocence, “that’s certainly no way to greet an old friend after so many years. How could you accuse me of something so awful?”The false sweetness cracked.Her lips twitched. Her mask fell.“Maybe it’ll interest you to know your fellow witches did the honors. I certainly don’t know how these magic spells work, you know…”Melinda’s fist coiled tight as she lunged, but her body stopped mid-motion
MelindaVikron felt it instantly.He staggered back, eyes wide, as the sound of Camille’s voice shot through the bond.“Camille!”His voice blasted through the mind-link; raw, fierce, panicked. Warriors around him jolted at the sheer force of it.Vikron launched forward toward the dome, the earth opened beneath his feet as he ran. Dozens of pack warriors fell into formation behind him.“Stand back with the others and fight!” he commanded Demuel through the mind-link.---Melinda felt the shift; that nerve-crawling darkness, before she saw the figure lounged on a tree beyond the shadows.A silhouette she prayed never to see again.The shadow of one devoured by revenge… and jealousy.Goosebumps crawled across her skin.She blinked.Once.Twice.The figure vanished.Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.Not tonight.Not on the one night when nearly every pack warrior and soldier was stationed at the border—far from the dome.Far from Camille.Melinda lifted her gaze to the sky, now blacke
MelindaThe problem with war was never just the blood or the bodies.It was the uncertainty of its end, and the bitter fruit of the losses it demanded.Melinda felt that truth burning in her soul as she jolted awake, breath tight, sleep refusing to return. A cold ripple moved through her chest, sharp enough to sting. Someone was slipping away. She could feel it… but she couldn’t tell who.Pushing back the sheets, she slipped out of bed and stepped into the inner chamber of the dome.The night watchers were still positioned on the polished floor, hands interlinked, lips moving in low, fluid chants. Their spells hung thick in the air, like incense, pressing against the walls with every whispered syllable.Melinda’s gaze drifted, finally landing on Camille.Curled on her small bed, she slept deeply, the herbal potion mercifully quieting the hours of agony that had racked her body earlier. For now, she looked peaceful. Fragile. Unaware.“Princess Melinda.”The voice came from behind, soft







