Seraphina- The Alpha's Murderer

Seraphina.A dark hooded figure dove out of the high window in a flash. I squinted my eyes, still trying to hold up my weak body. It felt like my life was slowly draining out of me, but I wasn't sure what was happening to me. I only knew I had to prepare a bath for the Alpha by this time of the night, and there was something about that figure that jumped out... It felt all too familiar, but still very strange."Alpha Zen? I'm coming in to prepare a bath, for you," I tapped softly on the door to announce my presence so he could open the door, but the door gave way under the palm of my fingers.That was strange. The Alpha always locked his room. My mind flashed back to the figure from earlier and my heart jumped to my throat. No, it wasn't possible. No one would dare! The Alpha was a strong—"Sera... Seraphina," I heard the low rasp of his voice call out for me. His voice was weak, and my wolf sensed a tinge of copper and iron mixed with wolfsbane in the air.I pushed the door open imme

Seraphina."What is your name?" He asked again for the third time, "I would make sure you're greatly rewarded for this."I ignored him like I did before. I wanted to finish this off and be on my way to a place where I wouldn't be found. It wasn't up to an hour when I finished cleaning the cuts and wounds. I had to fight the urge to ask him what really happened that he had so many stab wounds, it wasn't in my place as an Omega to strike a conversation with an Alpha."I'm done, sir." I breathed out and he assessed his body before looking at me. A ghost of a smile formed on the face of his wolf."You have done well—" he tilted his head to the side, a way of trying to ask me for my name, and I hesitated."You can address me as an Omega, sir." I bowed my head low, "My name is not useful and has never been useful."Besides, there was really no point. Soon, my name would be on the tip of the tongue of all werewolves in the world— Seraphina, the Alpha's murderer.He chuckled under his breath

Seraphina.The cold of the dungeon had seeped so deep into my bones I wondered if I’d ever feel warmth again. Time lost meaning in the pitch black, measured only by the relentless drip… drip… drip… of water and the frantic pounding of my own heart. Exhaustion warred with terror, pulling me towards a numb oblivion I desperately fought.Then, the iron door screeched as it opened.Harsh torchlight blinded me. Rough hands hauled me up. My stiff, bound limbs screamed in protest. I didn’t struggle. What was the point? The faces of the warriors were grim, devoid of pity. They didn’t speak. They simply dragged me out of the cell, up the endless stone stairs.The noise hit me first. A low, ominous rumble, like distant thunder, growing louder with every step upward. It resolved into a roar as we emerged into the main courtyard.People. Hundreds of them. Pack members crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, their faces a blur of anger and hatred. They were chanting the moment they saw me. They wa

SeraphinaSeraphina woke to the taste of blood in her mouth and the sound of her own ragged breathing. She’d expected fire, the sharp crackle of her own pyre, the mindless agony of burning. Instead, she was here—alive, caged in a world of velvet and stone.Her arms had been bound so tightly the skin at her wrists shone raw and angry, the bruises like purple storm clouds blooming under the surface. She tried to free her hands, but the bite of the manacles stung her back to herself. Each breath pulled the scent of leather, wood polish, and underlying male—her Alpha’s scent, everywhere, clinging to the sheets, lacing the air. She was in his private chambers.A shimmer of panic threaded through her as she took in her surroundings. The place was bigger than any room she'd ever seen: high arched windows with iron bars, books stacked in slouched towers on every surface, the vast bed draped in wolf-gray sheets. She wore a borrowed shirt, several sizes too large, the collar stinging against he

The words struck her like a slap, but she didn’t flinch. Instead she felt the bond between them draw tight, an almost visible cord humming beneath the skin. Kael’s eyes met hers, and for a brief, shattering instant she saw raw pain there, grief so bright it almost burned her. He looked away. “We’re done here,” he said, voice cracking on the last word. The priestess swept past, dismissing them with a flick of her sleeve. As Seraphina turned to follow, Kael’s hand remained clamped on her arm, hot even through the fabric of her borrowed shirt. The sensation wasn’t pain, wasn’t even discomfort—it was a strange, numbing calm, as if his grip alone could hold her together when her own strength threatened to shatter. He didn’t let go until they were in the hall, out of earshot of the priestesses. Then, abruptly, he released her, as if burned. Seraphina caught her breath, her wrist tingling where his skin had touched hers. She dared a glance at him, and saw his face twisted in a snarl of fr