INICIAR SESIÓNDAMON’S POVMorning arrives quietly.There is no thunder like the storm had brought.Just light.Soft gold spills through the cabin windows in fractured beams, slipping between the thin gaps in the threadbare curtains and stretching lazily across the floorboards.The rain has finally stopped. Though traces of it still linger everywhere. Humidity clings faintly to the air. The forest outside smells damp and clean, carrying that sharp earthy scent that only comes after heavy storms.For a while, I stay completely still.Listening.The cabin creaks softly around us as wind brushes through the trees outside.Somewhere in the distance, water drips steadily from soaked branches.And beneath all of it—Michaela breathes quietly in my arms.At some point during the night, we shifted again.The careful distance she had tried to maintain before sleep no longer exists.Her back now rests against my chest, one arm of mine wrapped securely around her waist beneath the blankets.Like my body had re
MICHAELA’S POVFor a long time after that, neither of us speaks.Rain continues hammering against the cabin roof while wind moves restlessly through the trees outside.But inside the cabin, everything feels strangely still.Too still.Damon remains rigid beside me, one arm folded beneath his head, pretending like none of what just happened matters.Like he hadn’t woken up sounding like he couldn’t breathe.He is awake.I can tell.His breathing is too measured now.Too deliberate.Like he’s forcing control back into himself one breath at a time.The nightmare clearly affected him more than he wants me to know.Not that he would ever admit that out loud.Silence stretches between us again.Heavy.Uncomfortable.The kind that feels filled with things neither person wants to touch directly.I stare at the ceiling for a while, trying unsuccessfully to force my thoughts back into order.It doesn’t work.Because now there are too many things in my head that no longer fit together properly.
DAMON’S POVThe world forms in fragments and pieces of thought.Like something trying to assemble itself in the wrong order.There’s ground beneath my feet.I think.Darkness presses in, thick and absolute, swallowing the space before I can decide where it is I’m standing.A door closes softly behind me.The sound echoes too long.Too clean.I turn slowly, staring at the familiar hardwood floor tugging at the edges of my memory.But I don’t remember opening this door.Strange.There is a voice somewhere at the edge of my mind.It doesn’t sound like mine.And yet it does.It insists on something I cannot hold long enough to understand.It speaks of mistakes.Mistakes made.The words repeat like they are being spoken through water.I try to focus.But the harder I reach for the voice, the more distorted it becomes.The farther away it gets.Then suddenly the darkness shifts.It doesn't seem to retreat.Just… circle.Like it is making room for me.A bed comes into focus first.Then walls
DAMON'S POVI wake to silence.Not complete silence.The storm still breathes against the cabin walls in uneven bursts, and rain taps softly against the roof overhead.But the fire is gone.The warmth that had filled the cabin hours ago has long since burned itself into ash.For a few seconds, I stay still on the floor beside the couch, staring up at the dark ceiling while exhaustion drags heavily through my body.I hadn’t even known it was possible to fall asleep after everything that happened tonight.The fall.Her screams.The bloodlust.Her terror.The fear in her eyes when she looked at me.A low breath leaves me as I drag a hand across my face.There are no words strong enough to describe what it felt like to regain control and find Michaela beneath me.Terrified.Pinned beneath the part of me that stops recognizing restraint. The part that dominated when the darkness took control.The memory alone sends something cold coiling through my chest.Because I know exactly what would
“How can you even ask me that?” I say quietly, my voice shaking despite my best effort.Damon immediately notices the change in my expression.His brows pull together slightly.“What’s wrong?”I let out a short laugh that sounds nothing like amusement.“You mean to tell me you really don’t know why?”My voice comes out thinner than I want it to.Unsteady.But still, I continue.“You expect me to just forget the fact that I trusted you and you destroyed that trust?”Damon says nothing.Just watches me carefully.My chest tightens painfully.“You mean to tell me,” I continue, my voice sharper now, “that you don’t know I hold you partly responsible for my father’s execution?”Partly responsible because, deep down…More than Damon…I blame myself.For all of it.Damon stills completely at my words. Something shifts across his face.It isn’t anger.Or defensiveness.It almost looks like confusion.“Michaela,” he says slowly, carefully, “do you think I told my father what happened that nigh
“I’ll go first.”I step in front of Damon, reaching past him to tear a strip of fabric for his bandage.He watches me like he’s bracing for impact.I pause for a moment, considering my questions.There are too many.They’ve been circling my mind ever since he returned from the Winter Pack.Ever since our bargain.Ever since I saw that darkness in his eyes the night he disappeared for three entire days.I want to know what changed.The same person who once made it painfully clear I was inferior for being human now speaks about balance between wolves and humans like it actually matters to him.And even more confusing?Why did he choose me of all people for this arrangement? This performance of mateship?We’ve never liked each other.Even now, even with the bond between us, none of this should make sense.He could have chosen any other human. Literally anyone else would have agreed willingly. Even though it would just be pretence.No resistance. No arguments. No conditions.They would ha
Damon has never let a slight go unpunished. Which means I’m either already dead… or something is very, very wrong. By noon, Damon should have humiliated me. At least twice. He hadn’t even looked at me. I keep glancing over my shoulder, half convinced I woke up in some parallel universe w
I scrub my hands longer than necessary.The sink squeaks when I turn it off.I count to ten before I reach for his door.He hates when I knock before entering his room.I do it anyway.I wait a second before turning the knob and stepping inside.There’s a bottle of sanitizer on the table by his cot
What are you doing?Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, rational voice tries to break through.My fingers grow bolder.They trace a slow path across his shoulder, up the side of his throat, along the sharp line of his jaw.His breathing changes.I hear it.Feel it.The low growl building in h
I watch as the car pulls up to the curb.I leave my bedroom window and rush downstairs, taking a steadying breath before opening the front door.Cole remains in the driver’s seat, waiting.He’s been driving Talia and me to school ever since he got his license three years ago. Even after graduating,







