The castle was quiet again. Freya stood on the balcony overlooking the glittering city of vampires, the cold night air brushing her hair back. Ricardo had ordered extra guards along the borders, but tonight he kept his focus only on her.She had been through fire, betrayal, and war — yet she stood, her children safe inside the palace, her shoulders straighter than they had ever been.Ricardo joined her silently, placing a glass of wine on the railing beside her. His dark eyes searched her profile, admiring the strength in her calm.“You did it,” he murmured, his deep voice low with reverence. “You survived them, their lies, their war… and you built something greater here.”Freya exhaled, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t name. “No. We did it. You gave me a place when I had none, Ricardo. When even my own mates—” Her voice trembled, and she paused, the old wound still bleeding somewhere deep inside.He didn’t push her. Instead, he touched her hand gently, just enough for her to
The war had ended, but its echoes lingered in the halls of the Vampire Kingdom. Victory came at a cost, yet Ricardo Vitalli ruled taller than ever, his people hailing him not only as a king but as a savior who shielded them from Lycan aggression. The vampire banners flew higher, their crimson insignia burning bright against the sky, as if daring anyone to threaten their realm again.Freya, however, stood in silence amid the celebrations. She had watched fire consume the battlefield, blood soak the soil, and dreams collapse under the weight of betrayal. Though her hands did not wield a sword, she had borne the weight of it all. The triplets’ warning, their betrayal, their blind rage — they still echoed inside her like broken glass rattling in her veins.Ricardo’s steady presence grounded her. In the aftermath of the battle, when nightmares tore through her mind and she woke up trembling in the dark, it was he who sat silently beside her, never asking for words she wasn’t ready to give.
The battlefield was still smoldering. The air reeked of ash, iron, and broken pride. The Lycan triplets — once kings of the wolves, once feared conquerors — stood in silence amidst the wreckage of their shattered armies. Their war banners lay trampled in the mud, stained with blood. What had begun as a march of dominance had ended in humiliation.Their warriors were dead, scattered, or surrendered. The Alphas who had once rallied behind them were now whispering treason and betrayal, their loyalty broken like glass.But nothing cut deeper than the silence of Freya’s absence. She had not come to see them. She had not wept for them. She had not even looked their way.Instead, she stood under the protection of Ricardo Vitalli — a vampire king who shielded her as though she was his heart itself.That sight burned them more than any blade.Back in their camp, the triplets sat around the war table, the map of their kingdom torn and bloodstained. The tent was heavy with rage, guilt, and de
The battlefield was drenched in blood and smoke. The once–golden grasslands at the border between kingdoms were nothing more than charred earth, littered with the bodies of wolves, vampires, and Lycans alike. The war that never should have been had swallowed everyone whole, and its fury showed no signs of slowing.Ricardo stood at the frontlines, his eyes glowing an otherworldly crimson, his fangs bared as he commanded his army with brutal precision. His warriors moved like shadows—silent, efficient, and merciless. Against them, the Lycans and allied wolves fought with primal rage, their numbers vast but their unity fractured.They already had all the maps of the werewolf and Lycan Kingdoms because they were already prepared for this war. They set their targets with precision, so they can damage them with precision and power. They weren’t blinded y rage and arrogance like Lycan Kings, and it will be their biggest advantage against them.The triplets—Kandrix, Jasper, and Louis—were for
The war council chamber of the Lycan palace was filled to the brim with Alphas from every corner of the werewolf realm. The grand, obsidian table stretched the length of the hall, carved with sigils of power and conquest, a reminder of Lycan dominance over the wolf packs. Yet tonight, instead of unity, the chamber hummed with unease.The triplets sat at the head of the table—Kandrix, Jasper, and Louis—shoulders tense, their faces carved in grim determination. The moment they had returned from their encounter with Freya and Ricardo, they had wasted no time declaring the threat: a war against the vampire kingdom.But the room wasn’t as eager to follow as they had imagined.“This is madness,” growled Alpha Rhys of the Northern Wolf Pack, his silver eyes narrowing. “You expect us to march against the vampires—the most ancient of the night races—because of a… woman?” His words dripped disdain, though none missed the flicker of fear in his voice.Kandrix slammed his fist onto the table, the
The triplets’ words still echoed in the grand council chamber — a declaration of war if Freya did not return. For centuries, the vampires had lived in uneasy truce with the Lycans, each ruling their domain, neither daring to cross the other’s lines. But now, the fragile thread of peace had been snapped by a woman who carried the shadows of both worlds in her veins.Ricardo Vitalli sat on the throne of black stone, his eyes glowing a predatory crimson. Around him, the High Council gathered: twelve elders, warriors, strategists, and nobles whose loyalty wavered between fear and power.“We cannot underestimate the Lycans,” Lord Cassian, the oldest strategist, spoke first, his voice echoing through the chamber. “They thrive on brute strength. Their packs are trained for war, and the triplets lead with ruthless efficiency. If they march, they will not march alone. The packs will rally to their call.”Another noble slammed his fist on the table. “Then let them march! Do they think they can