LOGINThe shaking stopped almost as suddenly as it began. But the silence afterward felt worse. Heavier. Like the mountain itself was holding its breath. No one moved. Not me. Not Kael. Not Ronan. We stood frozen as small fragments of stone crumbled from the ceiling and hit the floor with soft cracks. Dust drifted through the air. The room suddenly felt too small. Too still. Too aware. Kael recovered first. “What,” he said slowly, “was that?” No one answered. Because no one had an answer that wouldn’t sound insane. Another faint vibration rolled beneath the floor. Weaker this time. But deliberate. Like something moving far below us. My chest tightened. “It reacted,” I whispered. Ronan’s eyes shifted toward me immediately. “To what?” But I already knew. Or at least— I feared I did. “Lucien,” I said quietly. Kael cursed instantly. “You cannot seriously believe this is connected to him.” “I didn’t say he caused it.” But the timing— The timing was impossible to
The pull returned before dawn. Not violently. Not suddenly. Worse. Quietly. Like something learning the rhythm of my breathing. Waiting for me to notice it. I sat upright in bed before the sun had fully risen, my pulse already uneven. The room was silent. Still. But beneath that silence— I felt it. That same strange pressure beneath my skin. Low. Ancient. Watching. I pressed a hand against my chest and closed my eyes. Immediately— The sensation sharpened. Not outward this time. Downward. Toward the earth again. “No,” I whispered. Because now I recognized it. The clearing. The voice. The thing beneath the ground. It was calling me back. A knock sounded at the door. Sharp. Controlled. I dropped my hand instantly. “Come in.” Ronan entered first. Kael behind him. And the moment Kael looked at me— His expression darkened slightly. “You look terrible.” “Good morning to you too,” I muttered. But neither of them relaxed. Because they could feel it too.
Lucien did not sleep that night. Not because he couldn’t. Because every time he closed his eyes— He felt it again. Her. The sensation lingered beneath his skin like an old scar reopening. Faint now. But impossible to ignore. And what unsettled him most was not the connection itself. It was the fact that it had felt… Mutual. Lucien stood alone on the balcony outside his chambers, the cold night air moving through the silence around him. Below, Blackwood remained awake despite the late hour. Warriors patrolled the walls. Guards rotated positions with disciplined precision. Everything controlled. Everything exactly as it should be. So why did it feel like something was slipping beyond his reach anyway? “You’re still awake.” Lucien didn’t turn at the voice. “You’re still talking.” A quiet scoff followed. “You look worse than usual.” That finally earned a glance. Caius leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, entirely too relaxed for someone standing near an Alpha in
It started as a whisper. Not a voice. Not a thought. Just… a presence. I froze mid-step. The corridor blurred slightly as something brushed against my mind—so faint I almost missed it. Almost. But I didn’t. Because I knew that feeling. Even after everything. Even after the pain, the rejection, the silence— I knew it. My breath caught. “No…” The word slipped out before I could stop it. Because it wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible. The presence flickered again. Stronger this time. Not clear. Not controlled. But there. Real. And close. My heart slammed against my ribs. “That’s not—” It couldn’t be him. The bond was gone. Broken. Destroyed. I felt it break. I survived it breaking. So why— Why did this feel so familiar? The air shifted. Or maybe it was just me. Because suddenly— It wasn’t faint anymore. It surged. My vision tilted. A sharp wave of something crashed into me— Not pain. Not exactly. Something heavier. Controlled. Cold. Foc
Blackwood Pack had changed. Not rebuilt. Not restored. Reforged. The walls stood taller now—reinforced with stone and steel instead of tradition and pride. Warriors moved with sharper discipline. Patrols doubled. Training grounds never rested. Lucien had made sure of that. Weakness had cost him once. It would not happen again. “Again.” His voice cut across the training field like a blade. The warrior in front of him barely had time to react before Lucien moved. Fast. Precise. Unforgiving. Steel clashed. The strike came from the left— Blocked. From below— Countered. From behind— Too slow. Lucien twisted, disarmed him in one clean motion, and drove him to the ground. Hard. The impact echoed. Silence followed. “Dead,” Lucien said coldly. The warrior didn’t argue. Couldn’t. He stayed down, breathing hard. Lucien stepped back, tossing the blade aside without looking. “Again,” he repeated. No one moved immediately. Because everyone knew— This wasn’t training
The forest felt different on the way back. Quieter. But not peaceful. Like something had been disturbed—and was now watching from beneath the silence. I walked beside Ronan, matching his pace, though my mind was anything but steady. The pull was gone. But the memory of it— The voice— Still lingered. “You knew,” I said finally. Ronan didn’t look at me. “Knew what?” “That something like that existed.” A pause. Then— “I suspected.” That wasn’t the same. But it wasn’t comforting either. “You didn’t think it mattered enough to tell me?” I pressed. Ronan stopped walking. So suddenly I almost walked into him. When he turned, his expression wasn’t cold. It was something worse. Careful. Measured. Like he was choosing every word before it left his mouth. “Until tonight,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t sure it was connected to you.” My chest tightened. “But now you are.” Not a question. A fact. He didn’t deny it. “What was that place?” I asked. Ronan’s gaze shifted b







