LOGINThe fog rolls in thicker as I wrap Nevaeh in the thickest blanket I can find from her room, a heavy wool thing that smells faintly of cedar from the closet. She is still out, her breathing steady but too damn shallow, like she is barely holding on. Four days. Elias poked and prodded, muttered about energy thresholds and bond overload, but nothing has changed. Her cheeks are hollower now, skin pale as milk. I cannot wait anymore. The pack doctor is out of his depth. This is goddess territory. Curse territory. Elara’s territory.I scoop her up carefully, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She is light, too light, like the drain has already hollowed her out. I carry her down the back stairs, avoiding the main halls where pack eyes might catch us. Lyall meets me at the garage door, quiet, no questions, just hands me the keys to the old Jeep.The bike would not work for this. I thought about it for a second, the roar of the engine cutting through the woods like always,
Nevaeh’s head lolls against my shoulder as I carry her down the corridor, her body slack in a way that twists my stomach. She weighs almost nothing, but the way her arms hang loose, the way her breathing stays shallow and even, feels heavier than anything I have ever hauled.I do not stop to think. I just move.West wing. My rooms. The one place no one enters unless I order them in myself.The hallway stretches too long, boots cracking against marble like gunshots in the quiet morning. A couple of maids scurry out of sight when they catch my face. Smart.I kick the suite door open with the toe of my boot, step inside, and ease her onto the bed.The sheets are still tangled from last night. I did not sleep much. It does not matter. I pull the duvet over her legs anyway, careful not to jar the bruises I know are hidden beneath that green dress.Her face looks smaller against the dark pillowcase. Lips parted just enough to breathe. No color in her cheeks. No flutter beneath her eyelids.
The morning light hurts more than it should.I step into the dining hall just after dawn, the scent of fresh bread, butter melting on warm rolls, and coffee brewed dark and bitter hitting me like a slap. The long table stretches out, empty except for the end where Nevaeh always sits alone.She’s there now, back straight, fork moving in slow, measured arcs between her plate and her mouth. Today she’s chosen a high necked dress the color of deep green, sleeves tugged down to cover her wrists, collar buttoned to her throat. Hiding. The fabric is too heavy for late summer, but I know why. Beneath it, the bruises I left last night are spreading. Purple fingerprints blooming across her hips. Crescent gouges where my claws bit too deep before I pulled them back. The small split on her lower lip is scabbed over, dark against her pale skin. She moves carefully, like every shift of her body reminds her exactly where the pain lives.She doesn’t look up when I enter. Doesn’t startle. Doesn’t ackn
KANE The lunge happens fast, too fast for me to stop it. I crash into her, arms wrapping around her waist like steel bands, lifting her off the floor. Nevaeh gasps, the sound sharp and small against my chest. I slam her back against the stone wall, not gentle, not careful, just raw momentum and the beast screaming inside me to pin her, to keep her. Her head knocks back with a dull thud that makes my ears ring even over the roar in my skull. Plaster dust drifts down like slow snow. Her bare feet kick once, twice, uselessly, heels scraping air before she goes still, pinned. “Kane, please.” Her voice cracks. Tiny. Terrified. It slices through the haze for half a second. I snarl, teeth bared inches from her throat. My claws dig into her hips, fabric bunching under my fingers, and I feel the first warm seep of blood where the tips break skin. Her nightdress is thin, soaked with sweat and now with something darker. Her hands push at my chest, weak, trembling shoves that do nothing agai
KANE The night feels alive. Every breath I take drags smoke through my lungs. Every heartbeat thrums with the weight of the curse clawing its way up my spine. The chains bite into my wrists, silver burning through skin and fur as my body fights itself. I can taste iron in my mouth. The full moon presses against the world like an open wound, spilling light through the cracks in the old walls of the east wing. The mansion hums with silence—no footsteps, no whispers, no reminders of the people I’ve locked out. Very good. No one should see me like this. I dig my claws into the floorboards, muscles convulsing under the strain. My wolf, Kian, snarls within, a roar of need and fury that shatters whatever control I have left. Let me out. His voice ripples through my mind, primal and commanding. She’s close. I can feel her. “No” I rasp, jaw tightening. My body trembles, sweat and blood dripping down my arms. “She can’t be here. She mustn’t.” But Kian doesn’t listen. The wolf never
The halls are too quiet today. Every step I take echoes against the stone walls like a warning. The full moon is nearly here, though I haven’t checked. I can feel it. Deep in my bones, in the way my pulse beats too fast for no reason, in the sudden ache curling low in my stomach. It’s strange, foreign. My skin tingles like it’s alive, aware of something I can’t name, something I’m not supposed to feel. I pause at the top of the staircase, eyes scanning the darkness. Kane isn’t anywhere. Not in the common hall. Not in the training yard. Not even in the library, which is usually his refuge. My chest tightens. The absence feels… wrong. I shouldn’t care. I tell myself that, but my body disagrees. My fingers twitch at my sides, and a restless heat coils low, like a warning, like a nudge I can’t explain. I feel it in the pull of my heart, in the quickening of my breath. Someone is missing, and it’s him. I move cautiously, steps soft on the polished stone, the familiar scent of the mansi







