AlinaThe rain clung to me like a second skin, cold and relentless, but I didn’t care. Each drop felt like punishment, like cleansing, like mockery—whatever it was, I welcomed it. I dragged myself through the doors of the house, my soaked cloak dripping puddles against the floor, my hair plastered across my face. All I wanted was silence, a moment of solitude, anything but the chaos that followed me like a curse.But the second I stepped inside, I froze.She was there.My mother.Sitting upright in the living room as though she had been waiting, her posture stiff, her expression unreadable. The sight of her made the chill that ran down my spine deepen—not from the storm outside, but from the storm inside me.Her eyes flickered up to me, and in the dim glow of the lanterns, I caught a softness there that felt unfamiliar.“What are you doing awake?” I asked, my voice sharp, harsher than I intended, but I was too exhausted to soften it.“I was waiting,” she said quietly, her hands folded
DamianI clutched the railing, my fingers digging into the polished wood until my knuckles turned white. My legs threatened to give way, and the storm outside rattled the windows like it wanted to echo what was breaking inside me. I had faced enemies without flinching, fought wars that should have killed me, but nothing—nothing—had ever made me this weak.Alina stood before me like a stranger. Her braids were sharp, coiled tight against her head as if even her hair wanted to defy softness. Her stance was unyielding, shoulders squared like a soldier, her chin lifted with a defiance that cut deeper than any blade. She had changed. She wasn’t the woman who used to smile shyly when I brushed my hand across hers. She wasn’t the woman who once trembled under my touch because she loved me. No, this was someone else—hardened, colder, fiercer.“Alina…” My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded. “Please, just try to understand me.”Her laugh was like shards of glass breaking in my ches
AlinaI was halfway through painting my nails when my sister barged into my room, humming like a bird drunk on sunlight.“Alina,” she sang, twirling like a child who had stumbled upon a secret, “you’ll never guess who’s here.”I blew on my freshly painted nails, not looking up. “Judging by your face, it’s either a treasure chest or some poor fool you’ve decided to torture.”She giggled, eyes sparkling. “Neither. Someone’s looking for you.”I finally raised my gaze. “And who might that be?”Her smile grew wider, too wide, too bright. She clasped her hands together as if she were trying to hold in a scream. “You’ll see.”I narrowed my eyes. “You’re enjoying this far too much. Just say it.”She only shook her head, bouncing toward the door. “Come and find out yourself.”I set the bottle of nail polish down with a sharp clink, irritation curling in my stomach. With a sigh, I stood, smoothing down the folds of my dress. “Fine. But if it’s another useless suitor or one of Mother’s little su
DamianI sat in my room, staring at the same four walls that had begun to feel more like a prison than the Alpha’s quarters. The silence pressed against my chest, suffocating, reminding me of what I had lost and what I had become. A shadow of who I was. Not a warrior. Not an Alpha. Not even a man. Just… hollow.I couldn’t bring myself to step outside. Every time I thought about the stares—the whispers, the judgment—I recoiled further into myself. I hated it. Hated what I had been reduced to. Hated the truth that I wasn’t a real werewolf anymore, not in the way that mattered. My wolf was broken. My soul, torn. And I was ashamed.I sent for Logan. He was the only one I could bear to face, though even with him, shame clawed at my insides.The door opened, and Logan stepped in, tall and steady as always. His eyes, though, carried that sharp glint of disappointment he didn’t even bother to mask anymore.“You called for me,” he said, his tone flat, almost cold.“Yes,” I muttered, my throat
AlinaIt had been a month since I returned to my family’s pack. A month of mornings spent under the training field’s harsh sun, where pups no older than twelve stumbled and sweated, their small bodies straining against the discipline I demanded. They looked at me with wide eyes, half in awe, half in disbelief. The Alina they once knew—the gentle one, the girl who would patch their scraped knees with soft words—was still here. But she wasn’t soft anymore.Now my kindness had edges. And every edge cut.“Again!” I barked at the smallest pup, a brown-eyed boy whose stance faltered as he tried to mimic a sparring form. “Your weight is wrong. Ground yourself. Think like a wolf even when you’re human.”He tried again. Better. I nodded once, sharp. Approval, but never coddling. That was gone.When training ended, the field rang with their panting and childish laughter as they stumbled off. Some of the older pack members lingered at the edges, watching me with a mix of admiration and unease. T
DamianThe pain came in waves—sharp, jagged, merciless. My body bent forward as if invisible claws dragged me down, ripping at my bones. I hit the barracks floor hard, clutching the dirt as though it could anchor me. I tried again, desperate to shift, desperate to call forth the wolf that had always been my other half.Nothing.My chest heaved, every inhale burning like acid in my lungs. My wolf was gone. No whisper in the back of my mind. No strength waiting beneath my skin. Just silence.“Shift, damn it,” I growled at myself, forcing my body to contort, to crack the way it was supposed to. I braced for the familiar break and mend, for the fur that should’ve ripped through. But what came was agony so unbearable it felt like my bones were splintering into a million shards and lodging themselves inside me.Foam bubbled from my mouth, dripping onto the dirt floor. My vision blurred. Horror clamped down on me.No. Not again.The curse was back. Stronger. Crueler. A hundred times worse th