POV: Juliana Capulet
The leather-bound copy of Jane Eyre felt like contraband in Juliana's hands as she curled deeper into the window seat of her tower bedroom. Outside, the manicured gardens of the Capulet compound stretched toward the Pacific coastline, beautiful and pristine as a postcard. Inside, the walls of her gilded cage pressed closer every day.
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will." Charlotte Brontë's words burned across the page like a challenge.
If only it were that simple.
The soft knock at her door made her slip the book behind a decorative pillow. Romance novels were "filling her head with impossible dreams," according to her father. Classic literature was barely tolerated, and only because it made her seem more cultured at pack social events.
"Mija?" Her mother's voice carried the careful neutrality that meant they had an audience. "Your father would like to see you in his study."
Juliana's stomach dropped. Vincent Capulet only summoned her to his study for two reasons: lectures about proper Luna behavior or announcements about her future that she'd have no say in. Neither option boded well.
"Coming, Mama."
She smoothed her silk dress—the pale blue one that made her look innocent and demure—and checked her reflection in the antique mirror. Dark waves perfectly styled, minimal makeup that enhanced her natural beauty without looking "desperate for attention," posture straight but not challenging. The perfect Capulet princess, ready to be displayed like a prize at auction.
The walk through the compound's marble corridors felt like a death march. Staff members bowed respectfully as she passed, their eyes carefully averted. She was precious cargo to be protected, not a person to be acknowledged.
Her father's study occupied the compound's most secure wing, all dark wood and leather-bound law books that spoke of centuries of Capulet power. Vincent sat behind his massive desk like a king holding court, his presence commanding even in casual clothes. At forty-five, he still looked every inch the Alpha who had expanded Capulet territory and influence beyond anything previous generations had achieved.
"Ah, princess." His face lit up with genuine warmth as she entered. "Come, sit. We have wonderful news to share."
Juliana's wolf whimpered, sensing the trap hidden beneath his affection. She took the chair across from his desk, hands folded in her lap like the perfect lady she'd been trained to be.
"What kind of news, Papa?"
"The kind that secures our family's future for generations." Vincent's eyes sparkled with pride and ambition. "I've been in negotiations with Alpha Escalus of the Eastern Alliance. His son Lorenzo is looking for a mate, and you, my dear, are exactly what their bloodline needs."
The words hit like ice water in her veins. "A mate?"
"An engagement, to start. The formal ceremony will happen after your eighteenth birthday, of course." He spoke as if he were announcing a vacation, not the end of her freedom. "Lorenzo is everything we could want—strong bloodline, good politics, excellent prospects. You'll be Luna of one of the most powerful packs on the continent."
Juliana's hands tightened in her lap until her knuckles went white. "Have I... have I met him?"
"At the summer gathering, remember? Tall, dark hair, very handsome. He was quite taken with you."
She vaguely remembered a young man who had stared at her like she was a particularly interesting piece of art he was considering purchasing. The memory made her skin crawl.
"Papa, I—"
"I know it's a lot to process," Vincent continued, his voice gentle but firm. "But this is how our world works, princess. Duty first, personal desires second. Your mother and I had an arranged mating, and look how happy we are."
Juliana glanced at her mother, who stood silent by the window. Maria's face was carefully neutral, but her hands were clasped so tightly her wedding ring cut into her finger.
Happy? Was that what this was? Her mother's distant smiles and romance novel obsession? Her father's complete control over every aspect of their lives disguised as protection?
"What if I said no?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it. Vincent's expression shifted from loving father to Alpha in an instant.
"No?" He leaned back in his chair, studying her with new interest. "Why would you say no to one of the most advantageous matches in our world?"
"Because I don't love him. Because I don't even know him."
"Love comes with time and respect, princess. Passion fades, but shared goals and mutual benefit last forever." His voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "You'll learn to care for him. More importantly, you'll learn to appreciate the security and status this union provides."
"But what if I want to choose for myself? What if I want to go to college, or travel, or—"
"Juliana." Her name was a warning. "You are the future of our bloodline. Your safety is everything. College is for wolves who need careers. Travel is for those who have no responsibilities to their pack. You have a higher purpose."
The higher purpose of being a beautiful, well-bred accessory to someone else's life.
"The announcement will be made at next week's pack gathering," Vincent continued, his tone suggesting the discussion was over. "I've already had the jewelers design your engagement ring. Sapphires to match your eyes."
Juliana stared at her father, this man who loved her so much he was willing to sacrifice her happiness for her "own good." Who genuinely believed that keeping her safe and secure was more important than keeping her free.
"May I be excused, Papa? I need to... process this news."
"Of course, princess." His smile returned, warm and indulgent. "Take all the time you need. Your mother can help you start planning the engagement party."
Juliana stood on shaking legs and walked calmly from the room. Only when she reached the safety of her tower did she allow herself to collapse against the door, her carefully constructed composure cracking like ice.
Ten days. She had ten days before her future was announced to the world and became unchangeable.
Ten days to figure out how to escape a cage built from love and lined with gold.
The nightmare always started the same way. Ten-year-old Bea sitting in the sunny garden of the Archer family estate, sharing her deepest fears with her best friend Ben during a joint family gathering that was supposed to celebrate the alliance between their packs."What if Mom doesn't come back from her next deployment?" she whispered, her voice small with the kind of terror that only children can feel when they realize their parents are mortal. "What if she dies in battle and I never see her again?"Ben's ten-year-old face was serious, understanding. "She won't die. She's the strongest Alpha in the whole world.""But what if she does? What if something happens and I'm left alone and I can't be strong enough to make everyone proud of me?""Then I'll help you be strong," Ben promised with the fierce loyalty of childhood friendship. "We'll always look out for each other."But the nightmare never ended with Ben's promise. It always conti
That evening, Bea found her father in his study, surrounded by the military histories and tactical manuals that had shaped his understanding of leadership and warfare. Colonel Marcus Sharpe looked up from his reading with the kind of tired smile that suggested long hours spent trying to balance his wife's intensity with his daughter's emotional needs."Heard about the Moonrise Academy acceptance," he said, gesturing for her to take the chair across from his desk. "How are you feeling about it?""Like I'm being shipped off to boarding school because I'm not tough enough for the family business," Bea replied with more bitterness than she'd intended.Marcus set down his book—a tactical analysis of leadership styles in high-stress environments—and gave his daughter his full attention. At forty-eight, he was still an imposing figure, but his Beta nature had allowed him to develop the kind of emotional intelligence that complemented Patricia's more direc
That evening, as Ferdinand packed for his immediate departure to Moonrise Academy, Isabella appeared in his chambers with travel documents, letters of introduction, and the kind of practical advice that only came from years of surviving court politics."The acceptance letter arrived this afternoon through magical courier," she said, setting an elegant envelope on his desk. "Your father's influence expedited the process considerably."Ferdinand picked up the letter, feeling the weight of his new future in the expensive paper and formal seal. "How long do I have?""The carriage leaves at dawn. You'll travel by conventional transportation to maintain the appearance of normal educational placement, rather than the emergency exile this actually represents.""And the prisoners?"Isabella's face tightened with shared guilt. "Will remain in the dungeons until your return, as your father promised. Ferdinand, I know this feels like a betrayal o
POV: Bea SharpeThe sound of Bea's fists hitting the heavy bag echoed through the training facility at 0500 hours, just like it had every morning for the past eight years. Each punch was precise, controlled, deadly—the product of a lifetime spent learning that strength was the only currency that mattered in the Sharpe family legacy.Jab, cross, hook. Breathe. Again.The Colorado mountain air was thin and sharp, but Bea had been born at altitude. Her lungs were conditioned for the elevation, her body adapted to the harsh environment that had forged the supernatural world's most elite military pack. The Sharpe compound wasn't just home—it was a proving ground where weakness was identified and eliminated before it could become a liability."Your form is getting sloppy."Bea didn't stop punching as her mother's voice cut through the morning silence. Alpha General Patricia Sharpe had a talent for appearing w
The next morning arrived gray and humid, with the kind of oppressive Louisiana heat that made everything feel like a fever dream. Ferdinand stood in his chambers, staring at his reflection in the ornate mirror that had belonged to his mother. In an hour, he would either be complicit in mass murder or gambling his life on Isabella's political strategy.He'd chosen his clothes carefully—formal enough to show respect for his father's authority, but not the ceremonial robes typically worn for state executions. If this conversation went the way he hoped, he needed to look like a confused young prince seeking guidance, not a defiant heir preparing for martyrdom.A sharp knock interrupted his nervous preparation. "Enter."Captain Torres appeared in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. "Prince Ferdinand, His Majesty requests your presence in the courtyard. The prisoners are ready."Ferdinand's stomach churned, but his voice remained steady
That night, Ferdinand found Isabella in her private garden, tending to the night-blooming jasmine that reminded her of her homeland in Spain. The garden was one of the few places in the palace where conversations couldn't be overheard by his father's extensive spy network—Isabella had seen to that with careful magical wards and strategic landscaping."You've made your decision," she said without looking up from her flowers."Was it that obvious?""You have the same expression your mother used to get when she'd decided to stand up to your father, regardless of the consequences." Isabella's voice was soft with old grief and fresh worry. "That stubborn tilt of the chin, like you're preparing to face a firing squad with dignity intact."Ferdinand had only vague memories of his biological mother, who had died when he was seven. But Isabella had been sharing stories about Queen Catherine's quiet rebellions for years, painting a picture of a woman