BEATRICEI never meant for her to grow up learning how to survive in cages.I sit on the edge of the bed, watching Bailey as she picks at a slice of warm bread, humming to herself like we’re not locked away in a room we didn’t choose.I don’t know how we ended up here — how running turned into this. She should be outside, laughing, chasing the wind, not comforting me like this is normal.“I’m okay, Mom,” she says gently. “As long as we’re together, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”Despite being captives, they feed us well, better than I expected. We’re not starved. Three meals a day, delivered like clockwork, and they’re… actually good. Every meal is hot, balanced, and flavorful.It’s not what I imagined. But that’s also the reason I haven’t fallen apart yet. At least my daughter doesn’t go hungry.Back home, we were taught that Lycans lived like savages — primitive, bloodthirsty things that tore through raw meat and howled at the sky. But here?Here, it almost feels normal. It’s
BEATRICEI’ve never hated being wrong this much.The doctor finishes checking Bailey over while Maxwell watches from the corner, silent as ever. I sit at the edge of the bed, barely breathing, eyes locked on my daughter’s face.“She’s alright,” the doctor finally says. “Her stomach’s just reacting to the change. New food, unfamiliar place — it’s just normal in kids. A little medicine and some rest, she’ll be fine.”I nod quickly, wiping at my eyes. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”She gives a small nod and packs up her things. Maxwell hasn’t moved.I spend the next hour tending to Bailey, cooling her forehead, making sure she takes the medicine, brushing her hair away from her damp cheeks. She’s still quiet, but she’s resting. Her breathing’s deeper and a lot easier now.When I finally look up, Maxwell is still there. He’s still watching me take care of Bailey.I get to my feet slowly. “Thank you,” I say. “For sending the doctor.”He doesn’t respond.“And… I’m sorry,” I add, eyes drop
ENZOHow the fuck is it this hard to track down one woman?I sent out almost half of our warriors… Still, nothing. All of them are useless.My Beta went sniffing around Rogue City, said he followed a lead, only to end up running into Lycans of all things. He didn’t even get to finish the damn search. The coward tucked his tail and left to avoid conflict, said he “didn’t want to cause problems.”Fucking pathetic.I’m in the war room, looking over another worthless report. Thalia walks in without so much as knocking.“You look pissed,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.“I am pissed,” I snap. “Weeks of searching and all I get is this bullshit?” I shove the paper across the table. “They can’t find one woman and a kid?”Thalia raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to like what I know, then.”I look up, narrowing my eyes. “What do you mean?”“I heard from someone in Rogue City. Someone who owes me,” she says smoothly. “They saw her. Beatrice. Just outside the southern market.”I
BEATRICE“Mommy, I heard a voice in my head last night.”I freeze mid-step, the water bowl in my hands nearly slipping.Bailey’s sitting up on the bed. Her cheeks are flushed pink, but not from fever this time. Her eyes are glowing with something wild and new.“What did you say?” I ask, setting the bowl down slowly.She grins. “A voice. She said she’s my wolf. Her name is Lira and she’s mine forever.”I just stare at her for a second. How is this even possible?She’s only six years old. Wolves don’t wake up until at least twelve — sometimes later. It takes maturity, trauma, or bloodline power… She’s still just my baby.But the bond in her voice tells me it’s real.“Oh, Bailey,” I whisper, pulling her into my arms. “You’re special. So, so special.”This is more than early awakening. It’s so rare, some packs don’t even believe it’s real.It means Bailey is destined for more than just strength. It means she’s marked for leadership… maybe even rule. Early wolf awakenings like this only hap
MAXWELLWhenever Beatrice gets too close, my wolf Scar, stirs just a little. It’s not out of instinct or bond, but curiosity. She’s not my mate. I know that. Scar can't feel her wolf. But there’s something about her that doesn’t let me look away.She’s told me plenty about her daughter. It’s enough for me to believe that she truly loves that child more than anything in this world. That part, I respect. She’s a mother who would bleed, run, and beg just to protect her pup.That’s a woman worth admiring. But that’s not enough for me to fully trust her.She came from the enemy’s side and lied more than once. Still, I can’t ignore the way she carries herself. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t flinch when I speak the truth. She’s smart and brave — the kind of person who sees more than what’s right in front of her and reacts accordingly.I like people like that even when they make things complicated. And Beatrice is nothing but complicated.She’s a puzzle — one I haven’t solved yet. Bu
BEATRICEA week without my daughter has felt like clawing through stone with bare hands. But today, finally, I’m allowed to see her.The guards escorting me don’t speak. I don't need them to. My heart is pounding hard enough to fill the silence. It’s not until we reach the upper hall that I notice something that makes me stop for just a second: both guards are women.They’re dressed like warriors. Not decorative escorts or maids in uniform, but real, trained, ready-for-battle warriors.Silverfang never allowed this.Sure, girls could “train,” but only the basics — how to shift without losing control, how to defend just enough to not die. But they were never allowed to join warrior ranks. That was reserved for the males. Bloodlines, traditions, pack image, whatever excuse worked.But here, these women walk with authority and confidence.And it makes me wonder how many other lies I’ve been told.The moment they open the door, I forget everything else.“Mommy!” Bailey shouts, launching he
BEATRICEI know better than to show fear, especially with his eyes on me. I sit still, spine straight, hands folded in my lap, even though every muscle in my body is tight. I feel Maxwell glance in my direction, and though he says nothing, the weight of his attention settles like a collar around my throat.He doesn’t take long to decide. “Bring the prisoner to my office,” he says flatly. His voice sharpens as he nods toward me. “She returns to her quarters.”And just like that, I’m dismissed.I kiss Bailey on the cheek. "See you in a week, baby. I’ll miss you, okay?"She hugs me tightly, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling the warmth of her in my embrace. Then, I whisper, "Don’t worry."I rise without hesitation without a word. The guards step into place beside me, and I follow, my head high. I’ve learned to keep the pieces of myself tightly sealed, even when I’m unraveling underneath.But fate always has its own cruel timing.As we turn the corner, I feel it. I see them bringing o
BEATRICEMy heartbeat is pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else. It’s like the sound has risen to my ears, muffling the rest of the room, the air, even his voice.I push Maxwell away. Not forcefully, but enough to put some space between us. I need air. I need the heat of his body not to be pressed against mine. “Thank you,” I murmur, avoiding his eyes. It comes out smaller than I intend, a little awkward, a little too quiet.He watches me for a second. Long enough to make my skin itch under the weight of his gaze, but he doesn’t say anything else.I clear my throat, smoothing my hair back like it helps me find balance. I force my voice to sound casual, like I’m asking the question for no particular reason. “The prisoner from earlier… the one they brought in. Do you know who he is?”Maxwell’s expression doesn’t shift. “No one important,” he says simply.Just like that. No details. No explanation. Of course. He’s too smart for that.I nod like it doesn’t matter to me, like I’
ENZO“She’s Beatrice. I saw her face.”Thalia’s voice is steady, confident. For once, I’m glad she’s not just being dramatic.I slowly turn to look at her, my jaw tightening. “You’re sure?”She nods without hesitation. “Positive. The moment I pulled that veil, I knew. It’s her. Her hair, her eyes, her expression when she realized I saw her — Enzo, she didn’t even try to deny it.”I stare past her, my pulse starting to pound in my ears. My hands curl into fists, and rage begins to surge — slow, hot, undeniable.Beatrice.Here.Of all the places she could’ve run, she chooses this one. She hides behind the Lycans. Behind Maxwell. Like she thinks this is a game she can win. Like she thinks I won’t tear through whatever walls she’s hiding behind and drag her back myself.The gall. The audacity. That little traitorous wolf.I gave her everything. My name. My protection. A home. And this is how she repays me? By vanishing with my daughter and playing maid to the Lycans?“She’s dead to me,” I
BEATRICEMy body moves before my mind catches up. I snatch the veil back to my face, hands trembling.I hear chairs scrape against the floor. Maxwell rises. His voice cuts through the tension like a blade.“What do you think you’re doing?”Thalia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “I — I just thought she looked familiar,” she says with a shrug, like tearing off someone’s mask in the middle of a negotiation is nothing more than adjusting a crooked tie. “Someone our pack’s been looking for. I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”Bullshit. She knew exactly what she was doing.Maxwell’s tone drops low, sharp with warning. “If you can’t respect my people, then there’s no need for this negotiation to continue.”Enzo looks like he’s about to say something, but Thalia jumps in first. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep.” Her voice is syrupy now, sickly sweet. “It was a mistake.”Maxwell turns his eyes on her, hard and unyielding. “Leave.”Thalia blinks. “What?”“You’ve disrupted
BEATRICEMy heartbeat thuds painfully in my chest. I keep my posture steady even though every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run.“I asked to wear it,” I speak up, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t sleep well last night. My face broke out in a rash. I didn’t want to distract anyone.”Maxwell says nothing, but I can feel his silent approval from where he stands beside me.Enzo doesn’t answer right away. I can feel the weight of his stare pressing against my skin like a blade. But eventually, he makes a dismissive sound and looks back toward Maxwell.“Let’s get on with it then,” he mutters.But Thalia — she doesn’t look away. She watches me with a kind of cold curiosity that prickles the back of my neck. Like she senses something. Like she knows what I am, even if she can’t prove it yet.I keep my gaze on the table as Maxwell opens the meeting.“I’ll make this simple,” Maxwell says. “Your Gamma is alive. Unharmed.”Gamma?That’s who the prisoner was? The one we passed in the ha
BEATRICEI barely sleep the entire night.Even with the door locked and the guards outside, safety feels like a fragile illusion. Every time I close my eyes, I see Enzo. He’s ripping Bailey from my arms while I scream and beg and claw at the dark. In the dream, I run barefoot across broken ground, my lungs burning, my voice gone. I never catch up. I never see her again.I jolt awake in a panic, my pulse thundering in my ears.Somehow, I slept past dawn.Get it together, I whisper to myself.I push off the covers, moving with shaky determination. My body’s exhausted, but I have no choice. Today is the day I face the very man I risked everything to escape from.Today… I face Enzo.I dress carefully, slipping into the dark gray ensemble set out for me. It's formal, plain, but structured well enough to look professional. The sleeves taper tightly, the fabric stiff across my shoulders in a way that forces me to stand straight. There's no armor here — but it’s the closest thing I’ve had to
BEATRICEMy fists clench hard, so tight that I feel my nails digging into skin. But I don’t loosen them. Because the truth is, I hate this feeling of shame and helplessness. There’s burning in my chest that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with humiliation. I’ve felt it too many times before. It’s the same heat that used to rise when Enzo would dismiss my thoughts, shut me down, strip me of choices like I wasn’t even a person.Maxwell’s words still echo in my head.“Only the strong have the right to negotiate.”The words burn.Because I know he’s not just talking about the negotiation. He’s talking about the world. About what it takes to survive in it.I’ve been barely surviving. Running from one cage to the next, quieter each time. I’ve done what I had to do to protect my daughter, but it wasn’t enough. Not really. If I had been stronger enough to fight to stand my ground—we never would’ve had to run in the first place.For so long, I believed Enzo would be my protec
BEATRICEThe moment Maxwell leaves, my heart starts racing.Enzo’s coming here.The thought alone makes my blood run cold. I sit down, trying to breathe, but the air in the room feels thinner than it did a minute ago. For days, I convinced myself I was safe within these walls. But now the very man I ran from — the one I burned my bond to escape — is about to walk through the front gates for negotiations with Maxwell.Over what? The prisoner?I press a hand against my chest, trying to still the panic clawing its way up. The timing lines up too neatly. That prisoner, whoever he is, he must not have been just another scout. Enzo would never lift a finger for someone disposable.…unless that prisoner carried secrets. Or, I’m the real reason he’s coming.Maxwell knows about the bounty. He saw my face printed in ink. He knows Enzo’s looking for me. So why bring him here, of all people? Why invite him into the very territory where I’ve been hiding?There’s only one explanation — Maxwell is
BEATRICEAnother week passes in silence.I haven’t seen Maxwell at all since that night in my room. No unexpected visits, no passing glances, not even a word through the guards. It’s like he vanished into his responsibilities, which I guess makes sense. He’s a real king.Not like Enzo, who just liked the title.The guards are different here, especially the women. They don’t treat me like glass. I’ve even started talking to one of them — Sera, a tall, sharp-eyed warrior who stands outside my door during the day. She’s not much older than me, but she has the kind of presence that makes you feel like nothing could shake her.One afternoon, while she watches me stitch leather, I glance up and ask, “Why doesn’t Maxwell have a Luna?”She pauses, tilting her head. “We never ask.”“So you don't know whether he has a mate?”“No idea. But if he has, he’s avoiding her.”I blink, surprised by the honesty.“Why?” I ask softly.She shrugs. “King Maxwell resists a lot of things. Mate bond just happen
ENZOFucking useless. Every last one of them.The stem of the wine glass snaps in my hand like it’s made of paper. Red wine splashes across the floor, bleeding into the rug, glinting off shards of crystal. I don’t even flinch. Let the maid scrub it out.“He’s been captured?” I snarl, rounding on my Beta Luka, who doesn’t have the balls to look me in the eye. “Gamma of all people — captured?”He swallows hard. “Yes, Alpha Enzo. By the Lycans.”“Fuck!” I slam my fist onto the table so hard the bottle rattles. “And now what? They expect me to just sit here with my dick in my hand while they parade my people around like trophies?”He doesn’t answer. He knows better.Thalia, ever the composed one, claps her hands. “Clean this up,” she says to the maid, nodding toward the floor.The girl rushes over with a rag and a pan, already trembling. Not fast enough for my taste.I kick one of the larger shards out of the way with a sneer. “And let me guess — if I want Gamma back, I have to play nice w
BEATRICEMy heartbeat is pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else. It’s like the sound has risen to my ears, muffling the rest of the room, the air, even his voice.I push Maxwell away. Not forcefully, but enough to put some space between us. I need air. I need the heat of his body not to be pressed against mine. “Thank you,” I murmur, avoiding his eyes. It comes out smaller than I intend, a little awkward, a little too quiet.He watches me for a second. Long enough to make my skin itch under the weight of his gaze, but he doesn’t say anything else.I clear my throat, smoothing my hair back like it helps me find balance. I force my voice to sound casual, like I’m asking the question for no particular reason. “The prisoner from earlier… the one they brought in. Do you know who he is?”Maxwell’s expression doesn’t shift. “No one important,” he says simply.Just like that. No details. No explanation. Of course. He’s too smart for that.I nod like it doesn’t matter to me, like I’