INICIAR SESIÓNIan's POV
I was walking down the alley. Night had already claimed the sky, and the atmosphere was mercilessly cold and windy. Tucking my hands deeper into the pockets of my woolly sweater, I exhaled. Smoke puffed out from my lips and dissolved into the air like ghosts fleeing the living. My ears stung from the biting chill, but that wasn’t what made me grit my teeth. It was her. “Sly bastard,” I muttered, heat bubbling beneath my skin despite the cold. Rage pumped through my veins like molten lead. When she flashed that smirk inside the bakery’s mixing room, I knew something was off. Brenda always smirked before launching her venom. And this time? She went nuclear - accusing me of stealing a hundred thousand dollars. Me! A man who’s never taken so much as a donut without paying for it. That girl… she wasn’t just toxic. She was a principality. A dark force sent to make my life hell. She sabotaged equipment and blamed it on me. Spread rumors like wild disease. Two months ago, she whispered the lie that I had AIDS. I saw the way the other workers recoiled from me like I was a plague. Some even went to Mr. Barry, whispering behind closed doors, trying to get me fired. They nearly succeeded. But I fought back. I shoved a clean test result in their faces, and just like that, the whispers died. I stayed. But the damage never really left me. “Stupid bitch!” I snapped, not caring if the wind carried my voice to some startled pedestrian. When the truth finally surfaced, she tried to flee. But karma caught her red-handed. The police showed up just in time. We discovered the money stashed in a trash bag, hidden in the ceiling of the women’s restroom. She got dragged away in cuffs. Good riddance. After the chaos, Mr. Barry begged for my forgiveness. Apologized until his face turned red. But my answer was final. “It’s over. I’m resigning,” I told him. “I won’t keep working in a place where I have no peace.” And just like that, I quit. I should’ve felt empty, but what I felt was freedom. I lifted my eyes to the dark sky, the stars blinking down like little gods watching from afar. “Good riddance to rubbish,” I muttered. No more Brenda. No more Barry. No more pretending I was okay. Then my stomach growled - long, loud, and furious. “Ughh.” I groaned, pulling out my phone with stiff fingers. My thumb hovered over my banking app before opening it. My eyes locked on the screen. $50.00. That was all I had left. My jaw tightened. No salary yet. No backup plan. Just this little whisper of cash between me and starvation. “I’m not crawling back to beg,” I hissed. Not even if Mr. Barry offered to double my pay. Still, I had to eat. A hungry man can’t chase dreams. A dead man definitely can’t. Tomorrow I’ll start job hunting. But tonight, I needed to silence the claws of hunger gnawing at my insides. I turned onto a narrow, dimly lit path, heading for the only place still open - Bernie’s Palace Chops. That’s when my phone buzzed. I paused, confused. I hadn’t called anyone. No one ever texted me this late. It was an AirDrop. From an “Unknown Sender.” My thumb hovered, then tapped ‘Accept’. A video. My brows furrowed as I hit play. The screen lit up and my blood ran cold. It was a man. Tied to a chair. Gagged. He was screaming through the cloth. The camera shook, but the images were clear enough - blades flashing, fists pounding. Blood splashing. The sickening crack of bone echoed. They were killing him. Slowly. Deliberately. I yanked the phone away from my face like it burned. “What the fuck,” I whispered. Terror surged through me. My hands trembled as I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, heart pounding like a war drum. Who sent this to me? And why? Or was this some mistake? I tried to breathe. Shrugged it off. Told myself it was fake. Just some twisted internet sicko trying to scare people. But then I heard something - a rustle. My heart skipped. I turned. Two cats. In the shadows. Mating. “Fuck,” I exhaled, relief washing over me. “Mummy and daddy games again…” I chuckled nervously, shook my head. This street wasn’t popular at night. That’s why I liked it. It was quiet. Peaceful. Solitary. The main street? Too crowded. Too loud. Too full of… people. But ten feet later, I heard another sound. This one - sharper. I clenched my jaw. Kept walking. “Probably another cat sex-tival,” I muttered, trying to sound unfazed. But I was wrong. I was fucking wrong. What I saw, stole the breath out of my lungs. Another shadow... Not mine. But someone or something else. A grotesque shape looming behind mine, tall and massive, holding something… something blunt. I didn’t even have time to turn or scream. A hand grabbed my collar and slammed me against the wall. CRACK! Pain exploded in my back. My vision whited out. “AAARGH!” I howled as I crumpled to the cold, damp pavement. My body screamed with agony. A figure stepped forward - dragging a bat that scraped against the concrete like the whisper of death. I tried to scream again. Nothing came out but hoarse gasps. “P-pl-ea-se… Pl-eas-se d-on-t k-ill me…” I begged, blood running from my scalp down my face like a red waterfall. The figure didn’t speak. Just stood there, silent. Like death personified. And then… I heard heels. Clicking against the concrete like a ticking bomb, each steps a countdown to something horrific. Next was a voice. “Just where I wanted you to be." I froze. No. No way. A shadow walked over to me. Perfume I knew too well filled my lungs. I blinked through the pain, my vision swimming. The street lamp flickered above us like it too wanted to blink and look away. It was her. It was really her. Alive. Free. Smiling. “B-br-brend-da?” I choked out her name, jaw trembling. How? How the fuck was she here? I saw the cops take her away. I watched her get hauled into that van. She crouched, her face too close, a smile carved with cruelty. “Well, well, well,” she whispered, voice as sweet as cyanide. “Still think that slap made you a man?” I tried to speak, but my throat had suddenly forgotten how to form words. She ran a finger down my cheek, slow. Mocking. "You got the video I sent to you, huh?" My eyes bulged. So she was the one who sent that video to me? "Darling, what you saw happen to that man in that video, will become your lot soon enough. Or maybe something even worse.” She smirked. My chest tightened with panic. “I warned you, Ian… You should have stayed in your place.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. “But don’t worry… you’ll never make that mistake again.” She locked eyes with the cloaked man. A silent exchange. A shared understanding. Then her voice rang out like a gavel of doom. “Take him.” Everything happened in a blur. The cloaked man moved. I opened my mouth to scream. The bat swung through the air with deadly grace. And then- WHAM! It struck my head. Darkness slammed into me like a falling building. My heartbeat slowed. My vision blurred. Numbness seeped into my limbs like venom. My brain began shutting down. And the last thing I felt… Was oblivion.Ian's POV “TUEHH!” I spat full in his face, the act raw and feral, defiance boiling so hot in my veins it burned away my fear for a heartbeat. “Go to hell, you moron!” I shouted, my voice cracking the chamber open like a curse hurled at the gallows. Even standing at death’s edge, I would not bow. I would not beg. Shabari’s face went still. Too still. Then it shifted, not like flesh, but like a puzzle wall grinding inward, rearranging itself with malicious intent. The black energy coiled around him surged upward, unfurling from his sides and spine, rising high and wide until it loomed over him like a living nightmare, a towering, grotesque silhouette of a vast, winged abomination clawed from shadow itself. My courage withered instantly, shrinking like a candle drowned in sudden rain. Selene! My breath stuttered. Was that a bat? The shape loomed and twitched, wings stretching, leathery, stirring the air with a stench of rot and old magic. Its shadow crawled along the walls,
Ian’s POV One, two, three. That was all it took, three seconds of palpitating terror, and whatever fragile calm I had left shattered. “STOP!” The word tore out of my throat before sense could leash it. Did he stop? No. Not even a flinch. It was as if I’d screamed into a void that refused to echo. Hysteria slammed into my gut, brutal and breath-stealing, and another scream ripped out of me, louder, sharper, edged with desperation. “Stop, you old fool!” I tried to move toward him, tried to rise, but pain answered first. A sharp, pricking agony speared my chest, sudden and merciless, driving the air from my lungs. My eyes squeezed shut as my hands shot out blindly, clutching the side frame of the bed for support while I dragged in a harsh breath that did nothing to dull the fire spreading through my ribs. Moon dust. The residue of moonbane. I’d forgotten. I was still healing. I forced my eyes open again, breath trapped in my throat as I stared at him. Shabari. He didn’t
Ian’s POV Before I could utter a word, the door creaked open and Kaelric strode in, Shabari trailing behind like a foul shadow. "My prince... I know you care for him, but he should be buried immedia–" Shabari's words twisted and died in his throat the moment his gaze fell upon me. He froze. His eyes ballooned from their sockets, popping out like two boiled eggs hurled into hot oil, and for a split second, he looked like a bald chicken that had just been baptized in fire. His entire body stiffened, as if every muscle had signed a ceasefire agreement. Kaelric saw me, and he gasped. "Small wolf!” Alarm lanced through me like a javelin. They’d seen something. No, someone. Ashval.My head snapped sideways, heart slamming against my ribs. But he wasn’t there. Not beside me. Not behind me. Not anywhere. The panic rose, fast and raw, a roaring tide that swallowed sense and breath and thought.Where had he gone?Before I could scream his name through the bond, it flared – warm, sudden, a
Ian's POV “Ian. Ian. Ian…”The voice slid over me like silk over steel."Ian. Wake up. Wake up."My lashes fluttered. First light. Then shape. Then presence.A white-cloaked figure stood at the foot of the bed. Her hood masked her face, but her gaze burned through it – and through me. My heart stuttered. Cold licked my spine.“W–who… who are y–you?” I rasped. "I believe your wolf could answer that."Ashval.My chest locked. I turned toward the toilet door.Nothing. The bond was silent.I turned to her, panic exploding in my chest. "What have you done to my wolf?! What have you done to him?!"I tried to rise, but agony lanced through my ribs. I collapsed back into the bed with a strangled grunt.“You don’t need to move,” she said calmly. “Just listen.”She tilted her head toward the door. “Your wolf is alive. Asleep. Like the guards outside.”My pulse spiked. Ryker. Maro. She’d subdued them?“You’re still healing,” she added softly. “The moonbane wasn’t diluted. It was raw. Death in
Thorne's POV The door screeched open like a dying beast, and I was shoved inside the cell like a sack of rot.My feet skidded across the blood-slick ground and I glided, losing balance. My back hit the cold stone with a sickening thud. Chains rattled behind me. Omaru's boot nudged my side as he stepped away, followed by Nikolai. Vanyel entered last – slow, sure, and gleaming with malice."Remember what I told you earlier, wretch," came his voice – oily, gloating.His footsteps were slow, deliberate. He walked past me like a ghost and made his way to the heavy oaken table that waited in the shadows.I watched him carefully. His silhouette, lit by flickering torchlight, moved with aristocratic arrogance. There, he began to unwrap a dark velvet cloth draped over the table with reverent care, as if revealing holy relics. But they were anything but holy. Beneath it lay an array of instruments – steel gleamed, some jagged, some curved, some stained a rust-brown that didn’t come from age.
Thorne's POV Darius’s roar cracked like a whip through the hall. “For years after your mother’s death, I had the high matrons shape you. They were handpicked, tasked with softening your edges, breaking the wild in you, turning you into something... respectable. But you spat on all of it. Learned the blood arts behind my back. You rebel, you disobey, and now–” he thrust a trembling finger at Shanura’s bloodied form on the floor. “–you have shamed me before the kings. You interfered in a blood fight. In my pit!” He was no longer speaking. He was seething, his words boiling out of his mouth like venom, blistering the air around him. Shanura lay crumpled on the stone floor, hair matted with sweat, her breathing shallow. Still, her voice came – low, but steady. “I do not regret my actions, father. I take full responsibility.” Those words scorched him. Darius let out a guttural snarl and lashed her again. And again. The whip cracked through the air, slicing her back open in brut







