The words Carlos had spoken still rang in my ears, heavy and raw. He killed her. My mother. My Luna.I sat frozen on the bed, staring at him. This man who had carried me in his arms as if I weighed nothing. Who had barked orders at guards like his voice could command the world. Now, sitting with his shoulders slumped, he looked nothing like the cold warrior I thought he was. He looked… human.“You were thirteen,” I said softly, the words slipping out. “You can’t—”“I should’ve been there,” he cut me off. His eyes lifted to mine, blazing with that guilt he carried like chains. “A border post was my responsibility. I abandoned it. And because of me, my mother is dead.”The conviction in his tone twisted something inside me. He believed it, utterly.I shook my head. “No. Lars killed her. Not you.”His jaw flexed, his body taut like a bowstring. For a moment, I thought he’d snap at me. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answers he’d been se
The room was too quiet after Carlos left, but my ears rang with every sound from beyond the door. My wolf strained inside me, claws against my skin, desperate to listen.Then I heard him.Lars.His voice slithered into the hall like poison smoke. Calm, amused, cruel. The same voice that whispered he would never love me. The same voice that laughed as he shoved me from the cliff.“You should have trained your men better,” Lars said. His tone was casual, almost lazy, but beneath it was a blade of power. “It took too long for me to reach you.”I pressed a hand to my chest, my pulse hammering. The air in the room thickened with his presence. He was close—too close.Carlos’s father answered, steady but strained. “You weren’t invited into my territory, Alpha Lars. You’ve already spilled too much blood tonight.”I shut my eyes, trying not to picture what that meant. Still, the copper tang of blood seeped beneath the door. My wolf recoiled.Lars chuckled. “Blood means nothing when it’s weak.
I pressed my palm flat against the door the moment Carlos disappeared. His command echoed in my head, firm and heavy. Do not move an inch from here. Got it?But the silence on the other side wasn’t silence at all. It was muffled growls, the scrape of boots, the rumble of voices deep with power. My stomach twisted, my fingers curling against the wood until my nails bit into it.I wanted to move, to run, to do something. Yet my legs trembled, too weak to hold me, and fear pinned me more effectively than any lock.Then I felt it.Not sound. Not touch. But scent.Sharp. Familiar. Soaked in cruelty. My lungs seized before my mind could name it, but my body knew. My wolf knew. The scent of Lars slid through the cracks of the room like smoke.I staggered back, clutching my chest. The walls felt too close. The air too thin. My mate—the man who threw me from the cliff—was here. Alive, dominant, and close enough to smell me.A low voice carried into the hall, smooth as poison. Lars.“I can smel
Carlos’s arms felt like steel bands around her as he carried Amelia back to the bed, her body limp but her pulse thundering against his chest. She had barely absorbed his words—her body found by the creeks, a month lost in a fog she couldn’t remember—when her knees buckled beneath her. He had caught her before she hit the ground, and now he set her gently on the mattress, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed with something far darker than pity.“You shouldn’t move yet,” he said, voice low, controlled. Too controlled. “Your body is still weak.”“I’m not weak,” she whispered, defiance flashing in her dull, tired eyes. She hated the sound of her own voice—shaky, thin, like someone else’s.Carlos crouched in front of her, one hand braced on the mattress beside her thigh. The position forced her to meet his gaze. His presence was overwhelming, so close, his scent of cedar and storm wrapping around her until it was the only thing she could breathe.“You’re pale as death,” he said roughly. “Don’
Carlos lowered her onto the mattress like she was made of glass, his arms lingering as if her skin burned him and yet tethered him. Amelia’s body was trembling, not only from weakness but from the weight of his words—a month… by the creeks… dead, and yet not dead.Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She couldn’t process it all. Her chest rose and fell too fast, and when she pressed her palm against the sheets to sit up again, her knees buckled beneath her. Carlos’s hand shot out, pinning her shoulder gently but firmly back against the pillows.“Stop fighting me,” he said, voice low, rough, and too close. His scent wrapped around her, heavy, intoxicating. “Your body is barely holding together. You move like this, and you’ll collapse.”“I already feel collapsed,” she whispered.The words punched a hole through his composure. He had to clench his jaw, his fangs threatening to show. His wolf stirred, prowling under his skin, restless and hungry—not for blood, but for the maddening pul
My heart raced so fast I thought Lars would hear it from wherever he was. The key bit into my palm, a tiny shard of hope wrapped in cold metal. My wrists ached, raw flesh torn open by silver, but pain meant nothing now. I had a way out.With trembling hands, I shoved the key into the lock binding my chains. It scraped, refused at first, but then—click. One cuff fell open, clattering against the stone floor. I bit back a sob of relief as I freed the other, blood rushing into my stiff arms.I was free.But freedom in a cage meant nothing if I couldn’t get past the door.I crept forward, slipping the key into the lock. My ears strained for footsteps, breath shallow. The tumblers groaned—then another click. The door gave way with a soft creak.Every instinct screamed at me to run, but I forced myself to move carefully down the narrow corridor. The walls stank of damp and iron, torchlight flickering across mossy stone. Each shadow looked like it wanted to swallow me.Then I heard it. Voice