LOGIN“Kaelen!”
Ellion’s voice broke through the tension first, bright with something that didn’t belong in that room—relief. Genuine relief. It was so out of place that Elowen’s head turned toward him instinctively. He was already on his feet. The others didn’t move. Why on earth don't they all look alike? Each unique to his personality. Why? Kaelen stepped fully into the room, the chains dragging behind him in a slow, grating rhythm that seemed to scrape against the silence itself. Every step he took echoed, not because the room demanded it, but because everyone else had gone still enough to let it. He didn’t look restrained. That was the unsettling part. Despite the chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles, despite the guards flanking him, Kaelen carried himself like none of it mattered. Like this was a walk he had chosen, not one forced on him. A crooked smile rested on his lips, lazy and sharp at the same time. His gaze swept across the room once, taking everything in, dismissing most of it just as quickly. The moment his eyes passed over Elowen, something in her chest tightened. Not fear. Something worse. Recognition of danger. Zevrian shifted slightly, just enough for Elowen to notice the subtle movement of his hand. A signal. Ellion saw it too. He hesitated. It was small, almost invisible—but it was there. His fingers tightened briefly at his sides before he reached into his coat and pulled something out. A bracelet. Metal. Sleek. But the way he looked at it. Wary “El—” Ellion started, then corrected himself, forcing a small smile as he stepped forward. “Hey… Kaelen.” Kaelen’s eyes flicked to the bracelet, then back to Ellion’s face. The smirk didn’t fade, but something behind it sharpened. “It’s okay,” Kaelen said casually, lifting his wrists slightly despite the chains. “Do what you have to do.” Ellion exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching something unpredictable. “You know it’s just temporary,” Ellion added quietly, almost like he was reassuring himself. Kaelen didn’t respond. He just held out his wrist. Ellion slipped the bracelet on. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a soft click. It locked into place. Ellion stepped back immediately and Zevrian snapped his fingers. The chains dropped. Metal hit the floor in a heavy, echoing crash, the guards stepping back instantly as if released from an invisible command. Kaelen rolled his shoulders once, flexing his hands as if testing the absence of weight. Zevrian spoke, his voice even. “The bracelet suppresses your abilities. If you attempt to use them, it will retaliate.” Kaelen glanced down at it briefly, turning his wrist as if examining a piece of jewelry rather than a restraint. “So I’ve been told.” He started walking further into the room, each step slow, measured, completely unbothered by the eyes tracking his movement. “These lights,” he muttered, glancing up. “Unnecessary.” Zevrian didn’t respond. Kaelen stopped beneath one of the bulbs, tilting his head slightly as he looked at it. Then— Pop. The bulb shattered. Not violently. Just a small, controlled burst, glass cracking with a faint snap as the light above flickered out. Elowen flinched, her shoulders tensing as her body jerked slightly against the chair. Kaelen noticed and his head turned slowly. His eyes landed on her and this time, they stayed. A smile spread across his face again, slower now. “Well,” he said, his voice low, almost amused. “So this is her?” Ellion nodded from behind him. “Yes.” Kaelen took a step closer. Then another. “She matched with us." Ellion added. " All of us.” Elowen’s pulse spiked, her fingers curling instinctively even though the ropes held them useless. Something in the air shifted again. That same pressure. That same pull. She had felt it with the others. But this— This was different. It was stronger. More violent. Kaelen stopped in front of her. For a second, nothing happened. Then, his eyes darkened slightly, his expression tightening just a fraction. Elowen saw it—saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting something. Resisting. “What—” he started, his voice lower now, strained in a way that didn’t match his earlier ease. His eyes shut briefly and his shoulders tensed. “No,” he muttered under his breath. Elowen stared at him, confusion flickering through her fear. What is happening? His eyes snapped open again and locked onto hers. And whatever fight had been there, snapped. “Mate.” The word came out like a verdict. Draven let out a low breath, leaning back slightly. “Finally.” Ellion’s lips curved faintly, something like quiet triumph in his expression. Zevrian didn’t smile—but the tension in him eased. Like something had just been confirmed. Kaelen stepped back abruptly. The change was instant. His expression twisted. Disgust flooded his features as he looked at her properly now, like the word he had just said had finally settled into his mind. “She’s human.” The way he said it, like it was offensive. Like it was wrong. Elowen’s stomach twisted. “Get away from me…” she started, her voice sharp despite the tremor in it but she didn’t get to finish. His hand shot out. Fast. Too fast and his fingers wrapped around her throat before she could react, squeezing just enough to cut off her breath. Her body jerked, a choked sound escaping her as her hands strained uselessly against the ropes. Her vision blurred for a second. His eyes… They weren’t normal. They were black. Completely. And empty. Something inhuman. Draven was on his feet instantly. “I thought you said the bracelet worked!” Zevrian moved just as fast, grabbing Kaelen’s arm and trying to pull him back. “Release her.” But Kaelen didn’t budge. His grip tightened slightly. Elowen gasped, her chest heaving as panic surged through her. Ellion stepped forward, his voice strained. “It is working! He can’t shadow walk—that’s what it was designed for!” Draven shot him a furious look. “You said it would suppress his abilities!” “It’s suppressing most of them!” Ellion snapped back, frustration breaking through his calm. “I didn’t anticipate…” “You didn’t anticipate?” Draven’s voice rose. “You were told exactly what to do!” “I did it!” Ellion shot back. “This shouldn’t be happening!” Kaelen’s grip tightened for a split second more. Elowen’s body trembled, her lungs burning as she struggled for air. Then, he let go. Just like that. She collapsed forward slightly, gasping harshly as air rushed back into her lungs. Before she could even fully recover, he spat at her. The saliva hit her cheek, sliding down slowly. The room went still again. Draven straightened, his posture shifting completely. Sorrian’s expression hardened, his stance changing just enough to show he was ready. Ready for a fight. Kaelen didn’t care. He looked at her like she was something beneath him. “Don’t come near me,” he said, his voice cold now. Final. “Ever.” Elowen’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her throat burning, her eyes stinging—not from tears, but from the force of everything hitting her at once. “Or I will rip your head off.” She could see he meant it. He turned and walked out. Just like that. The doors shut behind him with a heavy sound that echoed longer than it should have. Silence followed. Elowen sat there, shaking slightly, her breath uneven as she tried to steady herself. Her throat hurt. Her skin still felt like his hand was there. Zevrian looked down at her. For a moment, something passed through his expression. Not pity, not quite. But something close enough to an apology that it made her stomach twist. Then it was gone. The door opened again. An elderly maid stepped in quietly, her posture respectful but firm. Zevrian spoke without looking away from Elowen. “She will take you to your room.” Elowen’s head snapped up slightly. Room? “Prepare her,” Zevrian added. “She will meet elders.” Her stomach dropped. Draven moved toward her, crouching slightly as he reached for the restraints. The ropes loosened quickly under his hands, falling away from her wrists and ankles. She winced as circulation returned, her muscles stiff and sore. He helped her up. Carefully. “Easy,” he muttered, his tone lower now. Less sharp. “You’re fine.” She jerked her arm slightly away from him, not fully pulling back but not accepting the help either. “I don’t need your help,” she said hoarsely. He ignored that, steadying her anyway. “Kaelen’s… like that.” “That doesn’t excuse anything,” she snapped. “No,” he agreed simply. “It doesn’t.” Ellion stood a few steps away, his expression tight, guilt written clearly across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Elowen didn’t look at him. Everything was too loud in her head. The maid stepped closer. “Come,” she said gently. Elowen hesitated for half a second. Then she moved. Because what choice did she have?The room was quiet except for the crackling fire near the balcony doors and the faint ticking of the antique clock mounted above the fireplace. Elowen sat at the edge of her bed with her knees pulled to her chest, staring blankly at nothing. Three. She had already slept with three of them. Sorrian. Ellion. And now Draven. Even thinking about it made her stomach twist painfully. Her fingers tightened around the blanket as she tried not to think too deeply about what they had turned her into inside this house. Every ritual. Every mate night. Every full moon felt like another piece of herself being carved away slowly. And the worst part? She kept pretending she was fine. Pretending she was strong. Pretending none of it touched her. Pretending she could survive this place without breaking. But it was breaking her. Little by little. Elowen lowered her face into her hands and squeezed her eyes shut hard. She remembered the way Sorrian used to smile at her before the war. The
Draven stepped into Elowen's room and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. She was already lying on the bed completely naked, propped up on the pillows with her legs slightly parted, watching him with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. Oh. He pulled off his shirt and crawled onto the mattress, settling between her thighs. He can't afford to ruin this. He thought it'll be awkward but Elowen looked like she wanted this just as badly. "You look incredible," he said, running his hands up her sides. "If anything feels off, you tell me right away. I mean it." He leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep, while his fingers traced between her legs. She was already wet. He rubbed her clit in gentle circles until she started breathing heavier. "Good?" he asked against her mouth. "Yeah, it's good," Elowen replied, spreading her legs wider. "Keep going." Draven pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them steadily while he sucked on her nipple. "Tell me if it's too
Steam still clung to Draven’s skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low around his waist while he rubbed another one through his damp hair. He was already irritated. The fact that tonight was mate night and somehow that thought had stayed in his head far longer than he wanted to admit. Elowen. What are they doing to her? And why the fuck is he playing along to this madness!? For his fucking bloodline? Or maybe he really need to win this and prove to everyone that he is the better alpha. Draven cursed under his breath and tossed the towel over a chair. A sound suddenly came from the bedroom. The soft click of the bedroom door shutting. Draven frowned immediately and turned quickly out of the closet. Soraya was standing there casually like she belonged in the room. His expression darkened instantly. “What the hell are you doing here?” Soraya smiled slowly, completely unbothered by his tone. “That’s a horrible way to greet someone you used t
Elowen woke to the sting of something cold sliding into her arm. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, heavy and unfocused, the white ceiling above her swimming for a moment before everything settled back into place. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled the room. Voices murmured somewhere near the foot of the bed. A doctor stood over her, adjusting the drip connected to her wrist while another flipped through glowing medical charts projected from a tablet. The room felt crowded, suffocating. And then she saw Lady Syreena. The former Luna sat elegantly on the velvet chair beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other, black silk gloves resting against her lap. Her midnight hair fell in smooth waves around her shoulders, untouched by age or stress. She looked perfectly composed while everyone else moved around her like frightened servants orbiting a queen. Impatient eyes lifted toward Elowen the second she stirred awake. “Well,” Lady Syreena said coolly, “she’s alive.” Elowen swa
The Oracle hall was colder than usual that night. Moonlight spilled through the towering crystal windows, bathing the ancient chamber in silver light while hundreds of candles flickered along the stone walls. The air smelled heavily of incense, old parchment, and wolf blood. Elowen hated this place. Every time she walked into the Oracle, something inside her felt stripped away piece by piece. Her heels echoed softly against the marble floor as she entered beside Lysara. Every eye in the hall turned toward her immediately. She felt them staring. Judging, watching and waiting. Elowen kept her chin high anyway. If they wanted a Luna, then they would get one who refused to bow. The black corset dress hugged her body tightly, silver threading glimmering under the moonlight. The slit along her thigh exposed just enough skin to scandalize the older woman seated among the elders. Her silver hair flowed freely down her back tonight, soft against the dark fabric, while the small silver
The stronghold echoed with the violent sound of fists slamming into leather. Again. Again. Again. Sable drove another brutal punch into the heavy sandbag hanging from the ceiling, the chains above it rattling from the force. Sweat glistened across her forehead and neck, dark strands of hair slipping loose from the knot at the back of her head. Her breathing was uneven, sharp with restrained rage. Everything irritated her lately. The house. The tension. The stupid prophecy. The constant arguments between the brothers. And most especially—Elowen. Sable’s fist slammed into the bag again hard enough to make the metal frame creak. She hated the way the entire house had begun revolving around one fragile human girl. Every hallway conversation somehow led back to Elowen. Every command. Every meeting. Every decision. Even Zevrian had changed. That was the part she hated most. Sable threw another punch. Then another. Her knuckles were red now, but she barely noticed. The s







