THE GRAVE OF GREY AND GOLD

CHAPTER 2 When silence becomes a weaponPOV: ElaraI needed an escape; everything was happening so fast. I walked quickly, half-way running through the hallways.Closing the door behind me, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood and tried to slow my breath. But it only came faster and shallower. I felt like I was drowning. My lungs burned. The doctor called it ‘Human Rejection.’ This may sound poetic, but it’s really a death sentence.I could feel my body was tearing itself apart, forcing out organs that couldn’t handle the lunar energy here. I was in the werewolf realm. Roman’s world wasn’t mine to be in. I stumbled toward the vanity as my legs trembled. My vision, too, was flickering at the edges. I needed the suppressant. Derek, the pack doctor, had slipped in for me, too.‘If I don’t take it now, the coughing will start’ ....Roman would smell it immediately, the copper tang of blood.’My hands trembled as I dug through the

CHAPTER 4 Designing a Life Beyond the PackPOV: ElaraA black SUV sped towards the border.Its tyres were humming against the asphalt. This sound usually meant I was running errands for the pack. But today, the trunk wasn’t filled with imported linens or high-end catering supplies. It was empty, just like the pit in my stomach.I pulled over into the gravel lot of a nondescript glass building situated exactly on the line between the Werewolf and Human territories.It was the headquarters of my Axiom Designs. I had hidden it for a long time. Roman thought it was a ‘little studio’ where I sketched. And did my little projects to pass the time.As I stepped out, my assistant, Marcus, was already waiting at the door. He was human. I preferred having him around because he was very handy. His brilliance and speed were unmatched. Only he in two worlds who knew my real medical results."You look like hell, Elara," Marcus said, his voice dropping as he handed m

CHAPTER 6 The Stains We Can’t Wash AwayPOV: ElaraThe master bathroom was a sanctuary of white Carrara marble and heated floors; a cold, beautiful tomb. I leaned over the sink, my knuckles white as I gripped the edge.The "Voice" in the hallway was a distant rumble now, but my own body was screaming. A wet, rattling cough tore through my chest. I barely made it to the basin before the metallic heat overflowed.A tang of copper filled my senses as I spat out phlegm that was blood-streaked.[Roman’s Voice]: She’s hiding again. Locked in the bathroom like a teenager. Is she crying? If she’s crying because of Ivy, she should just say it. I hate the silence. I hate that I don't know what she’s thinking anymore.I turned the faucet on high, watching the blood swirl down the drain. I rinsed my mouth, scrubbed my lips until they were raw, and applied a fresh layer of rose-tinted gloss. By the time the lock clicked and I stepped back into the bedroom,

CHAPTER 8 The Son Who Forgot His Mother’s VoicePOV: ElaraThe triumph from the boardroom felt like a cold, thin sheet of ice. It looked solid, but I was falling through it. I walked toward the family wing, my lungs rattling with every step. I didn't need a boardroom to feel powerful; I needed my son to look at me without that glint of predatory judgment.I found Arlo in the library, surrounded by old pack scrolls. He was trying to read the ancient Runes, his small brow furrowed in frustration."Those are difficult even for the High Priests, Arlo," I said softly, leaning against the doorframe. "I have a book in my office, a human translation of the lunar cycles. It makes the math much easier."Arlo didn't look up. He traced a claw, sharp and new, over the parchment. "Ivy says human books are full of lies. She says humans use math because they don't have instinct. She says you're trying to make me 'slow' like you."The "Voice" hit me before I cou

CHAPTER 10 The Scent of a War Already WonPOV: ElaraThe threshold of the Crescent Estate didn't feel like a welcome; it felt like a trap. I walked through the heavy front doors, my silk coat still damp from the mist of the Divide. My lungs were a tight knot of pain, and every indrawn breath felt like swallowing needles.I didn't even make it to the stairs.Roman was there, leaning against the mahogany banister. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and the air around him was shimmering with a heat so intense I could feel it from ten feet away.He didn't say a word. He just inhaled.The silence that followed was deafening. His nostrils flared, his pupils bleeding into the blue of his irises until they were twin pits of midnight.[Roman’s Voice]: Pine. Cold earth. And... him. Silas. The Northern cur. She smells like a rival Alpha. My wife smells like a declaration of war."Where have you been, Elara