Masuk
THALIA’S POV
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but in the Great North, if you don’t judge a wolf by its eyes, you’re already a corpse. I suppose the werewolf hierarchy is a real eye-opener, though for someone like me, the view is usually from the bottom of a shallow grave.
This was a bad idea.
I knew it the second I stepped into the neon-soaked air of the club, the scent of cheap gin and desperate sweat clinging to my skin like a second layer of camouflage. This wasn’t me. I was the girl who lived in the margins, the one who blended into the grey brick of the city to avoid being noticed by the world. But right now, I didn’t care. I was tired of being the ghost in the room. I was tired of the silence that followed me like a curse.
The music was thrumming in my veins and blood rushed up to my ears as I swayed carelessly. I wanted the bass to be so loud that I couldn’t hear the quiet, pathetic whispers of the wolf at the back of my mind. She had been quiet all night, a tiny, suppressed spark that had been muffled by years of hiding. Usually, she spoke to me, a constant hum of instinct. Tonight, the baby girl was silent, pouting because she had warned me not to go out. She wanted me to stay locked in my room, safe and invisible. But I didn’t listen. I was tired of being a monk. I just wanted to feel something. I just wanted to get laid.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a hard plane of abs. The sudden contact made me stumble, my heart skipping a beat as I turned to see a man standing there. Dark watchful eyes, a smirk cutting across his handsome face and brown hair falling across his forehead.
“Who are you?” I drawled, still tipsy from the glasses I had taken at the counter.
I hadn’t had much to drink. I was definitely okay. I had only downed two glasses. Okay, maybe three. Or four. I had lost count as the flashing strobe lights made the numbers bleed together into a blur of violet and gold. My vision blurred and my stomach churned, but I struggled to remain steady, letting the stranger twirl me around the packed crowd. The heat between us was rising, a thick, cloying thing that made the air feel heavy
“Just someone who’s been watching you,” He rasped, drawing me closer until my chest was pressed against his.
A smirk pulled at my lips and I grinded against him, nipples pebbling under my shirt as I wrapped my hands around his neck. “Oh really?”
He was handsome. I wasn’t going to deny that. And I just wanted to feel something different for once. I wanted to forget the “Rules of the North.” I wanted to forget that my very existence was a crime. His hard hands roamed my waist, grip tightening around me. “Hm… come here.” His head dipped as his breath brushed against my neck, sending a whimper up my throat.
Shit. That felt so good.
I should leave before I make any bad decisions. I should run back to my apartment and lock the door. But before I could think of anything, his tongue darted out, tracing down the sensitive part of my neck and I could swear that my knees knocked together.
“Oh—” I tipped my head to the side with a gasp, the sound swallowed by the thump of the music. His fingers reached for the front of my shirt, tugging at the hem as it slid under the fabric. His skin was hot, too hot, like he was burning from the inside out.
Fuck.
“You’re so pretty… Let me take care of you tonight…” He drawled, biting and nibbling at my skin as his thumb traced mindless circles at my flesh. My panties were pooling and my pussy ached with want. My mind was a mess of hormones and alcohol, a dangerous cocktail that was drowning out my common sense.
Get away from this man, Thalia. My mind screamed, but another part of me wanted to know what would happen if I let go of all my rules. I wanted to be a normal girl, not a fugitive hiding behind a pair of gold lenses.
“What’s your name?” I pulled away, slightly dazed. If I was going to do something stupid, I might as well know his name.
Something akin to surprise flashed in his eyes. Then hesitation. A flicker of something dark and calculated. “Paul.”
He hesitated. Why did he hesitate at his own name? Something gnawed at my stomach and I suddenly felt the need to get the hell away. The heat in the room felt suffocating, and the music felt like it was drilling holes into my skull. He was hiding something.
“What?” His gaze was dark as he stared down at me. Almost crazed. Like he was looking at a prize he had spent years tracking down.
That snapped me out of it. I pulled away, unease prickling down my spine like a thousand tiny needles. “I uh—I’m sorry, I need some air.”
Without waiting for him to answer, I scrambled away, pushing past the crowd as I rushed to the bathroom. My heart was thumping so frantically—a warning I should have listened to an hour ago. It was empty save for a woman who left after taking one look at my pale face. I was a total mess. My hair stuck out in weird angles, my face pale as I hunched over the basin, gripping the cold surface tight. My knuckles were white against the porcelain.
Shit. I needed to get home. I needed to crawl into bed and wait for the world to stop shaking. My fingers trembled as I splashed icy water on my face, trying to calm the burning sensation of my skin.
Who was he? It almost felt like… he had come to me on purpose.
A sudden knock on the bathroom door jerked me out of my thoughts. My ears perked up, the tiny, suppressed wolf in my chest finally stirring, her hackles rising in a way that made my skin crawl. The door creaked open. A tanned man with a gleam in his eyes I didn’t like stepped in first. He looked at me with a sickening familiarity, a predatory grin stretching across his face.
“What are you doing? This is the ladies’ room!” I barked, but he just kept coming.
Then, Paul stepped in behind him.
I let out a ragged breath, a wave of relief washing over me. “Paul! Thank God. This guy—he’s bothering me—"
But Paul didn’t move to help me. He simply reached back and locked the door with a slow, deliberate click. I froze. They weren’t strangers. They were a team.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was hoarse.
Paul chuckled, his eyes cold and hungry. “I was hoping we’d have a little talk. After all this time… we’ve found you.”
My heart literally stopped. The air in the bathroom turned to ice. Found me? I didn’t know these men, but I knew I was a rabbit in a corner.
“Stay back!” I yelled, reaching for a plunger, but a hand slammed into my ribs, knocking air out of my lungs. The pain was explosive, blinding me for a second. My brain flew into flight or fight mode as strong arms pulled me up and an elbow wrapped around my neck, tightening. I couldn’t breathe. The world was turning black at the edges.
No. This wasn’t how I wanted to die. Definitely not in a fucking bathroom.
I clawed and scratched, kicking at my agitator, but he was like stone. The other man laughed, the sound echoing in my head as my muscles started getting limp. I felt the strength draining from my limbs, my suppressed wolf whimpering in the back of my mind, too weak to save us. “Don’t fight it. You can’t run forever.”
My eyes widened just as something surged within me—a brief burst of power. It wasn’t the wolf. It was something deeper, ancient and violent. A white-hot roar of energy erupted from my chest, shattering the grip on my throat.
I wasn’t sure what happened. I could barely comprehend it. The world blurred into a flash of light and the sound of tearing flesh.
But when I came to my senses, I was standing over two mangled bodies. The floor was pooling with blood, the smell of iron and salt thick enough to taste. A stifled scream tore from my throat. My fingers trembled as I saw the blood on my sweater.
I didn’t do that. I couldn’t have done that. My stomach twisted as I stood over the bodies. Paul—or whoever he was—lay there with his throat opened up, eyes staring at the ceiling in a permanent state of shock.
Words from my childhood rang in my head: They will find you later. Just stay low. Don’t do anything stupid.
Fuck!
They had found me. My past had caught up with me. Yes, I, Thalia Thorne, held a secret. I wasn’t human. I was born into the wrong part of the hierarchy. In the Great North, your eyes are your destiny. Gold eyes are Gemini—the royalty. Blue eyes are Capricorn—the servants. But then there are the ones like me. A dark-eyed cub with a cancer mark—an abomination. Black eyes. The ones who didn’t get to live.
In our world, black eyes were an omen of death. Cancers were supposed to be killed the moment they were born. My parents had hidden me in the city, hiding the void in my sockets behind gold contacts. It had been easy for years, but staring at the mess on the floor, I realized I had accidentally lit a signal fire.
If these two found me, more would follow. And I might not be this lucky.
I hurriedly washed my hands, cleaned myself up, and dashed out through the back door. The alcohol was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. I would leave the city. I’d disappear into the wind. They would never get me. I would make sure of that, but first I needed to settle some things.
THALIAIt was a Thursday. I woke on the last Thursday of the story, and I took one last inventory, and I did it slowly. The room was mine, and the door was one I opened myself. The contacts case sat in the archive, on its shelf beside the grey dress and the seven last letters and everything my mother had built. The mark on my hand was strong and clear, my mother's sign of who I was, and nobody in the whole pack feared it now. The compact was warm in my chest, with the Great North's note and the southern note running together like two voices singing one song.Rael was at his window, feeling the eastern mountains and the compact sites and the flame basin. He called all of it mine now, out loud, every morning, and I could hear it in the bond when he said it. I got up and put on a clothes that were not a grey dress. I opened my door from the inside. Then I went out to find Thursday.Thursday in the Great North is Constance in the kitchen before dawn, feeding everyone in the compound corre
THALIAI did not want to be alone with the last letters that night, and I did not say so out loud. I did not need to. He already knew, the way he always knew, because the bond carried it to him before the words ever came. When the lamp was low and the compound was quiet, he knocked once on my door, and I told him to come in, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. Neither of us said, this is the night after the last letters. The room said it for us.The bundle lay on the table with the ribbon tied around it again, exactly the way Heloise had left it, and it looked the same as it had before I read it, except that everything about it was different. I had read the letters now. They lived inside me."She hoped the food was good," I said."Yes," he answered."That was in the very first one," I told him. "I want you to know that the food is very good.""Constance," he said, and a small smile touched his mouth."Constance," I agreed. "And she hoped I had someone who made me want to stay in a
THALIAI had been building toward the last letters for three months. I was not hiding from them. I was getting ready for them, the way you get ready for something you know is waiting for you, and that you are not quite strong enough to face. I had read all the rest. I had read the archive and the compact papers and the letters to Heloise and Elodie, and the ones sent to Saoirse's grandmother and Adair's grandmother and the families of the keepers. I had read my mother's careful voice, the voice of a scholar who planned everything.What I had not read were the last seven letters.Heloise had tied them with a faded ribbon and put them in a separate bundle inside the fifteenth box, with a note in her own handwriting that said only, when she is ready. The letter I had read in the archive weeks before had been the last of the plans. These seven were something else. These were the last of her.The morning after the ceremony, I woke very early, and I knew that today was the day. Rael was alr
RAELRael went to her room at nine, as he did every night, and by now neither of them thought about it any more. It had simply become the shape of their evenings. The day's work was done, the pack was settled, the land was warm under the stone, and then there was her room, with her door that she opened from the inside, and the two of them in the special version of themselves that only lived in that room.He knocked, and she told him to come in, and he went in.She was sitting in the chair by the window with a book open on her lap that she was not reading. It was the thinking version of her, the one he had learned to know over all those months, the one that meant she was working something out and wanted him near while she did it. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Her left hand was closed in her lap, and she did not look down at it, and he noticed that, and he said nothing."Valerie," she began."Yes," he answered."Formally named," she said."Yes.""On the pack record, with Mira's ha
THALIAMira read the papers aloud in the formal language, slowly and clearly, and every word carried across the courtyard like a stone dropped into still water. She read about the holding compound and the calling and the ritual circle. She read about the young woman who refused to help the people who held her, and she read the old word that was Valerie's new name. When she reached it, her voice softened, and I saw Valerie's hands tighten at her sides.Then it was my turn. I stepped forward and faced my sister across the little space in front of the flame basin, and I said the old word out loud, the compact's own name for what she was. The words came out of my mouth in the old language, low and warm, and they seemed to fill the whole courtyard.The flame basin answered at once. Every crack in its stone lit up with gold, one after another, in a ripple that ran all the way around the rim. The flames rose high and full, and the whole courtyard hummed with the deep, warm note of the compac
THALIAThe ceremony for Valerie was Mira's idea, and nobody who knew Mira was surprised. Mira had a gift for knowing which moments needed to be made official, and which ones were already real and only needed a ceremony to say so out loud. She came to find me three days before, standing in the archive doorway with a leather folder pressed against her chest and her chin raised."The support bloodline should be on the formal record," Mira announced, without any greeting at all."I think so too," I answered, looking up from the table."With the name Valerie chose for herself," Mira went on, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "Which is not the word amplifier.""No," I agreed, smiling. "It is not.""Then what is the word?" she asked.I told her the old word, the one that means the one who holds the bearer upright. Mira was quiet for a moment, and I saw her lips move as she tried the sound of it in her head."That is much better than amplifier," she decided at last."Valerie thinks so too," I t
THALIA’S POVMy heart squeezed painfully in my chest, and I felt like a bird trapped in a cage made of my own ribs as I stuttered, “I… you, sir—”His gaze didn’t falter for a single second. He stood there looking like a god of war, tall and terrifying, while he growled, “I won’t repeat myself anymor
RAEL’S POV“Witchcraft?” She stuttered, her face going pale instantly, before she started coughing and awkwardly swallowing her saliva.“Pardon?”I stepped back, the movement sharp and predatory. I refused to meet her gaze again; those gold eyes were too bright, too haunting for a killer. Don’t get
THALIA’S POVIt had taken a whole night before the realization dawned fully on me—I had murdered two people and fled the scene. The blood on my hands had been washed away, but the phantom weight of it remained, pressing into my skin like lead. And what I had hoped on settling before dawn with my au
Thalia's POVLater that evening...The steam from the bathwater curled around my skin like a thick, heavy blanket, and I kept my eyes closed for a long time, drifting in the quiet heat while I tried to force my heart to slow down, because the silence of the tower was the only peace I had known sinc







