LOGINRomy povThe wind howling off the Stormveil cliffs tasted of oncoming snow and ozone, whipping the hem of my emerald-green gown against my boots as I stood near the edge of the ancient stone altar. From this height, the entire valley was laid out like a massive, jagged chessboard of gray limestone and dark pine forests, with the winding ribbon of the gully road disappearing into the northern mist. Below us, the estate was a hive of controlled, intense activity; vanguard soldiers were moving crates of ammunition, reinforcing the courtyard walls, and running tactical diagnostics on the perimeter sensors. But on the high cliffside pavilion, a different kind of preparation was underway–one that looked like a celebration, but felt entirely like a trap. "The dress is too light for this weather, Romy," Rowan’s deep voice rumbled behind me, cutting through the rush of the wind as he stepped onto the stone platform, his heavy hand coming down to rest on the small of my back. He had disca
Rowan's POVThe basement vault doors had barely finished sealing shut when the metal staircase leading down from the main garage level shook beneath the weight of approaching footsteps.I knew who it was before they appeared.The scent of wet mountain air reached me first. Cold rain. Diesel fuel. The sharp trace of iron and oil that clung to the heavy canvas jackets of men who had spent hours outside in the storm.Zaric and Maddox. They came through the doorway moments later, both carrying the exhaustion of the southern ridge on their faces. Their boots left streaks of mud across the concrete floor as they moved toward the iron table where Aaron's ancient Hunter records were still spread open.Zaric did not waste time explaining himself. He dropped a mud-covered satellite terminal beside the old leather cylinders, the impact making the parchment edges shift beneath the sudden weight.“We have a problem.” His voice w
RomyThe vault had never felt so small.The stone walls that had protected generations of Stormveil leaders now seemed to close around us, trapping the weight of thirteen years of unanswered questions inside the cold air. The smell of old parchment, iron, and the faint copper scent of preserved records filled my lungs as Aaron kept his finger pressed against the ancient Hunter codex.I stared at the pages in front of me.For most of my life, the night my family died existed only as pieces–a flash of orange light through the nursery window, and the sound of wood collapsing somewhere above me, my sister’s hands shaking as she covered my mouth before I could scream.I had spent thirteen years trying to put those pieces together. I had convinced myself that there had been a reason. A war. A territory dispute. A power struggle between families that ended with my family's blood spilled on the ground. But the pages sitting in front of me made everything worse, because there was nothing simp
Rowan's POVThe last notes of the cello were still hanging inside the glass conservatory when the oak doors opened behind us.I did not turn immediately.For a few more seconds, I kept my hand around Romy's waist and let the waltz finish. Her green dress brushed against my boots as we moved through the final steps, the morning light spilling through the glass roof and catching the red strands of her hair where they rested against my shoulder.It was the first peaceful morning we'd had since the timber mill–the first time I could hold her without wondering if an alarm would sound, a message would arrive, or someone would try to take her from me again.Then I heard footsteps–not the careful steps of servants, not the quiet movement of guards.Heavy. Urgent.Aaron.I turned my head slightly, my chin still resting against Romy's hair.He stood in the doorway with a leather document cylinder tucked beneath his arm. His face had lost all color, his expression carrying the kind of tension th
Romy's POVThe cedar wardrobe doors creaked slightly when I pulled them open with my right hand, my eyes moving over the rows of dark leather tunics and heavy trousers that filled most of my side. A few dresses and silk outfits had somehow found their way between them over the last few months, mostly because Rowan kept insisting that I needed clothes that were not designed for hiding knives.My left hand still throbbed beneath the wooden splint Maddox had tied around my thumb the night before, but the pain had settled enough that I could ignore it when I wanted to.I reached for a simple black wool shirt that would sit comfortably over the bandage and still allow me to strap my ceramic blade beneath the sleeve.“Leave the boring clothes alone, Romy.” Rowan's voice came from behind me, making me pause before I could reach the fabric.I turned and found him leaning against the doorway of the dressing room, alre
Romy's POVThe first grey light of dawn filtered through the heavy cedar shutters of the master bedroom, leaving pale strips across the ceiling and the foot of the bed. Outside, the mountain wind rattled faintly against the windows, but beneath the thick wool blankets, I could barely feel the cold.Rowan's body was warm against mine, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist while my cheek rested against his chest. My left hand lay carefully between us, secured to the wooden splint Maddox had fixed around it several hours earlier. The pain had reduced into a dull throb that only became strongerwhenever I moved too quickly, but after everything that happened at the timber mill, it was something I could tolerate.For the first time since Caleb dragged me into that tunnel, everything around me was quiet. No chains, no alarms, no smell of smoke or wet stone–just Rowan's heartbeat beneath my ear.I stayed on the bed for a while, letting myself feel something I'd spent most of my life treatin
Rowan, 31 "Today is his son's wedding, Alpha. Can we just give him the decency of enjoying a father-of-the-groom day before taking him in for questioning?"Aaron, my Beta and second-in-command, matched my long strides as we turned out of the elevator. I barely paid heed to his words."I don't have
Romy, 23. Present Day. “That dress,” Camellia noted, her polished finger pointing directly at my neck as I turned slightly in the full-length mirror. “It doesn't cover the tattoo.” I kept my eyes on the raven tattoo climbing the side of my neck. It was for Alina, the only person who had ever call
13 years agoRomy povHer chest was heaving with shallow, erratic breaths. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a rigid, unnatural smile, but her lips were trembling so violently she couldn't hide her terror.She kept her hand pressed tightly over my mouth, her wide eyes silently pleading wit
13 years ago.Romy’s POV“Heavens, Romy! You either pick that doll up or I swear, I'll rip its head off its poorly invested neck!” My mother screamed, filled with a fury I had come accustomed to over the years.I flinched, and the doll slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. One







