LOGINI was sold to the Devil. Rider Thorne. The Alpha King. A man whose name alone makes grown wolves tremble. My stepfather cleared his gambling debts by trading my life for a stack of cash, handing me over with a single, chilling instruction: Give the King an heir, and you go free. I accepted my fate. I prepared to be nothing more than a vessel, a temporary fixture in his cold, luxurious prison. I told myself I could survive his cruelty, his indifference, and his icy glare. But the moment he walked into the room, the universe played a cruel joke. The scent of rain and dark chocolate. Mate. The cruelest Alpha of all time is my soulmate. The sad part? He doesn't know. Or worse—he doesn't care. To him, I am just a tool. A breeder to secure his lineage before he discards me like trash. Heartbroken and realizing he will never look at me with love, I made a choice. I will give him what he bought, but he will never have my heart. But when I discover I’m carrying not just one heir, but three, and that my life is in danger, I did the unthinkable. I ran. Now, the Alpha King is tearing the world apart to find me. He realizes too late that the "tool" he bought was the other half of his soul. But he’s not chasing a submissive girl anymore. He’s chasing a mother protecting her cubs. Run, Bailey. Run.
View MoreDeclan's POV “She left before I could even finish my report,” I said as I watched the last of Hera’s escort disappear beyond the inner gate, the sound of the vehicle fading into the distance while the pack house settled back into its usual early morning rhythm.Hera’s departure came on the fourth day after the council session, timed with the kind of precision that suggested she had decided the exact moment she could leave without turning it into a political statement. Raven had already said his goodbye the night before in private, which meant whatever conversation they had needed did not require witnesses or commentary. Rider was buried in back-to-back meetings that had started before sunrise and showed no sign of ending anytime soon. Bailey had walked Hera to the gate at dawn without asking anyone for permission, and then she had returned inside without speaking to anyone and gone straight into the garden.I gave her twenty minutes alone before following.I found her sitting on the
Bailey's POV “I need access to the south corridor records,” I said as Leila entered my room with her usual quiet efficiency, already holding a small stack of updates she knew I would ask for before I asked.The pack’s reaction to the marking did not unfold in any controlled or centralized way. It spread through the territory in the same way all important pack information did, through conversation, observation, and repeated retelling until it stabilized into something close to consensus. Leila became my primary source of information by default rather than instruction, which suited both of us because she was precise, observant, and unafraid to admit when she did not know something.“The general staff are adjusting well,” she reported that morning as she placed the updates on my desk. “They are cautious but not resistant. Senior wolves are observing you more than interacting with you. There is a shift toward formal respect rather than uncertainty.”I listened while reviewing the earlier
Raven's POV“You are still writing in that language,” I said as I stepped into the doorway of the east guest room, my voice steady even though I had already decided not to make this a confrontation.Callum did not look up right away. He continued writing at the small desk positioned near the window, the kind of placement that suggested whoever had assigned this room had not expected him to stay long enough to care about comfort. The exit paperwork was spread across the surface, half completed, and his pen moved with practiced familiarity over the old pack dialect that most wolves in this territory had stopped using years ago.I stayed where I was for a moment longer than necessary, not because I was uncertain about entering, but because I was observing him. I had not seen Callum in twelve years without the distance of a crisis, a battlefield, or a council directive shaping the context between us. Without that pressure, he looked different in a way I was not prepared for. Older, more c
Rider's POV“Are you planning to stay in here all morning,” Declan asked from the doorway, his voice casual in the way it always was when he already knew the answer.I did not look up immediately. I was seated at the kitchen table with a plate of eggs in front of me that I had not planned to eat here, in this room, at this hour, with Bailey sitting on the counter across from me as if this were an ordinary morning and not the aftermath of a political confrontation that would ripple through the territory for months. I took another bite before answering, because I had learned over the years that reacting too quickly to Declan rarely ended well.“I am eating,” I said evenly. “That does not require an explanation.”Declan stepped fully into the kitchen, eyes flicking over the scene in front of him with open amusement. He crossed the space in three long strides, reached out without asking, and stole a forkful of eggs from Bailey’s plate as if it were a habit rather than a provocation.Baile






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