Mag-log in“I think I’ve heard enough.” But Garrick didn’t stop. “When you turned eighteen… and you were still wolfless,” he said, the confession weighing in his voice, “I’ll admit… I used that.” He dragged a hand over his face. “For my own benefit. And for yours.” He shifted slightly, like the words them
Her gaze flicked back to him. “Couldn’t use all that money of yours to get something a little more… upscale?” Garrick let out a faint breath, his attention following hers as he looked around the cell. “My family cut me off,” he said. “Completely.” His jaw tightened slightly. “They’re my only ti
The cell held the kind of darkness that never fully lifted, even when the lights came on. It smelled old—damp stone, rust, something faintly sour like mildew that had settled deep into the walls over time. The air felt stale, unmoving, as if it had been trapped there too long. Somewhere beyond the
Her grip tightened slightly. “And that was before you came to me in my dream.” Tessa’s eyes searched hers, steady, certain. “Kae… believe it or not, I always knew you were… different.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I mean, I didn’t think supernatural different—but this?” she huffed a quiet b
“After a while, they just… closed it down.” She let the silence sit for a second before finishing. “I tried to get a loan to save it,” she added, quieter now. “But I was denied… didn’t make enough.” A small, apologetic breath. Her eyes softened, guilt threading through her voice. “I’m sorry.”
Kaelani reappeared in the entryway of her home. It was night. Quiet. Still. But the darkness didn’t feel unfamiliar anymore. It didn’t press in. Didn’t suffocate. It settled around her—familiar, almost comforting. The shadows seemed to embrace her, welcoming her back as if she had never left—
The steady whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm air, carrying the faint metallic scent of disinfectant as Kaelani wiped down the inside of the oven. The clock above the counter ticked toward closing time, its steady rhythm the only sound between bursts of Tessa’s humming as she swept the front o
The night air was heavy with the scent of fresh cut grass and regret. From the balcony, Julian watched the workers below setting torches along the garden’s path, their flames flaring and dimming like fireflies in the dark. The whole place was being transformed for the ceremony — the celebration of h
Her hand brushed absently across the bench beside her, fingertips tracing the small cracks in the stone. “So here I am,” she finished softly, turning her gaze toward the gardens that stretched in full, immaculate bloom. “Luna of the Blackthorn pack. I have everything I could ever want.” “Do you?” H
He couldn’t even remember half of what she’d said—something about the seating chart, the shade of ribbon for the centerpieces, the exact placement of the ceremonial torches. He murmured, “Whatever you think is best,” more than once, the words automatic, hollow. The hum of voices blurred into backgr







