Lyra, a timid Omega, has long been ridiculed and oppressed. When the powerful Alphas Damon and Damian return home, they trigger a chain of events that changes her life forever. Mated to both Alphas and struggling with her hidden powers, Lyra faces relentless attacks from those who want to use her for their own gain. In the end, she makes a heartbreaking choice that offers her a chance at a new life and love.
View MoreDamon’s POVVivian’s screams had grown hoarse long before she broke.The cell smelled of iron and rot, chains rattling each time she flinched. I crouched in front of her, resting my hand on the slick stone wall beside her head. My knuckles were still wet with her blood. She glared at me, though her lips trembled, and I knew the fight was slipping out of her.“You should thank me,” I said softly. “Most would have left you to my father’s mercy. I’m giving you a chance to speak before he carves the truth out of you.”Her breath shuddered, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts. “You’re worse than him.”I smiled. “You’re not the first to say so.”The torchlight flickered, shadows dancing across her face. I leaned closer, my voice a low growl. “Tell me what Dominic is planning. Or I’ll make sure this night never ends for you.”Her lips pressed tight. Stubborn. Brave, even. I almost admired it. But pain was a patient teacher.I dragged the blade across her arm, just deep enough to remind
Damian’s POVThe dream came like a storm, sudden and merciless.I stood in the old forest where my mother used to take me as a boy. The air smelled of lavender and damp earth, the way it always did in spring. But the trees loomed darker, twisted, and the ground pulsed faintly with red light, like the earth itself bled.And there she was—my mother.Her hair fell like a river of silver down her shoulders, her eyes soft yet burning with a light I had not seen in years. My chest tightened at the sight of her. For a heartbeat, I was a boy again, desperate to bury myself in her embrace.“Mother,” I breathed, my voice shaking.But she did not smile. Her lips were pressed thin, her gaze sharp as a blade. “Damian.” Her voice rang through the forest, layered with echoes. “You must listen. He seeks to wake it.”I frowned. “Who?”“Your father,” she said, stepping closer. “Dominic has not abandoned his hunger. He means to awaken the beast beneath the Blood Fang mountains. And he will use her blood
Lyra’s POVThe night air was sharp against my skin, filled with the metallic tang of blood and the scent of wet pine. Patrols shouted in the distance, their footsteps crunching over leaves, searching for survivors after the raid. I pressed myself against a broken tree stump, forcing my breath to steady. This was my chance.Damian had left me under guard, assuming the border was impossible to reach with sentries scattered across the ridges. But he didn’t know how far desperation could push me. Or maybe he did, and that was why the cursed bond burned on my neck whenever I even thought of freedom.I clenched my fists. The scarlet fire of the mark flared under my skin, hot and pulsing. It felt like invisible claws dragging through my veins. I swallowed a cry, biting my lip until I tasted blood. The pain reminded me of chains I could not see—but tonight, I would test if I could break them.I whispered the words Mother once taught me, hidden spells woven from fragments of blood and breath.
Damian’s PovThe air stank of smoke and rust in the old mill. A place long abandoned, swallowed by weeds and silence. I hated being here, but secrecy demanded it. If the pack caught me meeting with him, whispers would spread like fire.Damon was already there, lounging against a rusted beam as if he owned the place. His smirk cut through the dim light like a blade.“Brother,” he drawled. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”I clenched my jaw. “Don’t mistake this for trust.”His chuckle grated on me. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re far too predictable for that.”The tension between us was a beast in the room, heavy and snarling. I wanted to rip his throat out. Always had. But Dominic’s shadow loomed larger than our feud, and for once, we both knew it.I crossed my arms. “We’re wasting time. Dominic’s moving faster. He’s feeding the rogues, undermining me at every turn. If we don’t strike soon, the pack fractures for good.”Damon tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Strike? You mean stor
Lyra’s POVThe nights blurred together after Kyle’s death. Sleep didn’t come, only flashes of memory I couldn’t shut out—his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes dimmed in that final moment. Every time I closed mine, I saw it all over again.I told myself I would never cry again. But my body betrayed me in silence, tears soaking my pillow when no one was there to hear.The mark on my neck still burned whenever I thought too loudly of rebellion. It punished me for even daring to dream of freedom. I hated it. I hated Damian. I hated myself.So when Jax appeared outside my chamber one evening, I almost didn’t notice him. He leaned against the shadows, eyes darting left and right, shoulders tight as if he carried a weight too heavy for one man.“Lyra,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t be here.”I blinked, wary. “Then why are you?”His jaw tightened. He stepped forward and slid something under my door. A bundle wrapped in leather. Small. Worn.“What is it?” I asked.“Kyle’s,” he said. His voice cr
Damon’s POVThe old barracks reeked of mildew and dust. Boards groaned under my boots as I moved through the ruins, light from my lantern slicing through the darkness. Wolves avoided this place, whispering that it was cursed, haunted by the screams of soldiers long buried.They weren’t wrong.But I wasn’t here for ghosts.I found the door hidden under the rotting floorboards, its iron handle cold beneath my palm. It resisted, as if warning me back, but one hard pull broke the rust and it creaked open. A stale rush of air hissed out, thick with the copper tang of blood.My lips curved. I knew Dominic’s stench anywhere.Stairs spiraled downward into blackness. I descended slowly, hand grazing the damp stone wall, every step echoing like a drumbeat in my chest. The deeper I went, the more the air grew heavy—thick with something more than rot. Power. Old, foul, crawling along my skin like a thousand unseen claws.At the bottom, the corridor opened into a chamber lined with shelves. Not fi
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