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Aminda’s PoV When Lord Gray and I returned to his palace, he was already immersed in plans for the grand wedding to renew his vows with Claire. His urgency was apparent—everything had to be done quickly before her condition began to show. He had just told Lord Gray that she was pregnant. He was ecstatic at the thought, almost giddy… until a wave of panic gripped him. I saw the tremor in his hands, the flicker of doubt in his eyes, before he composed himself again. Later, after settling Claire in his master chamber, he came to me, his tone steady though I could feel the weight behind his words. “So,” he asked, “what is the price for bringing her back to me?” I met his gaze without flinching. There was no point in dressing it in softer words. “Orcus requires souls. Your part will be simple—direct my witches to ambitious men. The kind who hunger for wealth, power, and prestige. They will pay the price willingly, even if they don’t understand it fully.” Lord Gray did not hesita
Gallagher stretched before us, glittering like a city built on ambition and vanity. Humans hustled and scurried, blind to the webs of power and blood that wove through the night. I moved beside Lord Gray, carefully shielding my aura so the humans couldn’t sense the magic clinging to me. The limousine glided down the streets, a black chariot cutting through the mortal chaos. Lord Gray reclined inside, as if gravity were polite enough to bend around him. Old money, old power—he had never lifted a finger to run his vast holdings. CEOs ran his companies, accountants managed his wealth, and staff bent to his every whim. Life had always been leisure, indulgence, pleasure. Until Claire. Now he sat straighter, eyes fixed, hands clasped like a man who had spent a lifetime taking what he wanted and suddenly found there was something he could not command: his soulmate. Claire. His first wife. The one he had cast aside in arrogance and ignorance. “I will have her back,” he muttered, almost
Alister’s POV The city outside my mansion was cloaked in darkness, but every shadow felt alive inside. I paced through the halls, thoughts spiraling. The attack on Lancelot had gone wrong, and the only one to blame is Fiorella. She had killed Lancelot. The boy had been collateral damage in her hunger for chaos. "You didn’t need to kill him, Fiorella. Powerful witch bloodlines don’t grow on trees," I spat at the memory of her recklessness. "Don’t you want Aminda and Kian to separate for good?" But even that thought twisted in my chest. No, not if it puts her in danger. "The lengths she would go to protect him are unnerving. She had even ventured to the Underworld, facing Orcus himself. Do you have any idea what that means?" I said through grinding teeth. One misstep there, and everything we’ve planned could unravel. Fiorella had huffed dismissively. “I need to go back to the pack.” "Oh, but you can't. Aminda had produced a vision of the attack—clear as day. In her eyes,
Kian’s PoV The sharp scent of antiseptic clung to the air like a curse, but it couldn’t mask the stench of blood—their blood. I stood just outside the emergency ward of the Pack’s hospital, fists clenched so tightly my claws threatened to pierce my palms. My parents, the former Alpha King and Queen, were inside… broken. Fighting for their lives. Our pack’s legacy hung by a thread; all I could do was wait. Helplessness—an emotion I had never allowed myself to feel—now gnawed at me from the inside out like a savage beast. Every instinct in my body screamed for one thing. Her. Aminda. The thought of her was both a balm and a wound. Her voice, touch, and power calmed the chaos inside me. But she is not here. Couldn’t be here. Not without risking more lives. We had been warned. A sacred curse, older than our bloodlines, woven by the Fates themselves: if we dared to love openly, dared to be together, those closest to us would suffer unbearable consequences. And hadn’t they already? I
Aminda’s POV When I arrived at Lord Gray’s home, I was met by him and Inessa. That struck me as odd. He couldn’t see it yet, but Claire was the true love of his life—the one he had always favored. As I stepped inside, I noticed Lord Gray looked different: pale, exhausted, shadows etched under his eyes. His usual confident demeanor faltered. “Queen Aminda. To what do I owe this honor?” Gray asked, voice tight. I narrowed my eyes. “What happened here, Lord Gray?” My words carried the weight of my power, leaving no room for lies. “Claire…” His voice wavered before he swallowed his hesitation. “I… I found out she was having an affair with her bodyguard.” The coldness in his tone clashed with the raw pain in his eyes. I looked at Inessa and asked casually, “Who told you that? Her?” He blinked in surprise. “How… how do you know?” I smirked. “Because you’ve been played, Lord Gray. Last time I was here, I caught this woman in bed with her bodyguard—the same man she’s been involved with
Kian's PoV “Well.” My tongue stalled. The truth sat heavy in my chest, sharp and awkward. How could I explain that the only one able to break the curse was the last person willing to help—and the prime suspect in Lance’s murder? My jaw flexed. “It’s someone from my pack. I need to speak with her.” Her eyes narrowed. “A woman?” The way she asked it—half jealousy, half suspicion—made my stomach twist. My temptress stood before me, silver-blond hair now streaked with black, her violet gaze glowing faintly in the dim light. She was breathtaking, even when the shadows of worry pulled at her features. “Fiorella?” she pressed. I nodded once. Her expression softened, though sadness lingered. “I knew she wasn’t ordinary. She sensed me, even when I cloaked myself. That is no small thing. She’s one of Shilo’s lost line… witch-wolves. The blood gives them sharper senses, though real power has long slipped from their hands.” Her voice trailed off, brittle as glass. I drew her close, wrapping