LOGINSix years ago, Veldana betrayed Maurice in court. Her testimony sent him, her fated mate, to the dungeon for a crime he didn’t commit. Dragged away in chains, Maurice eyes burning with hatred for her. She lost him, her dignity, and nearly her unborn child. Now, he has returned, no longer the poor boy she once loved, but a ruthless Alpha with power stretching across empires. To him, she is nothing but a liar, a traitor, and the woman who stole three years of his life. But to her, he is still the man she can’t stop loving… and the father of the daughter he doesn’t know exists. When his cold eyes fall on Veldana again, there is no recognition of their once-sacred bond. Only venom. “You’ll pay, Veldana,” he says, voice steady and lethal. And she knows he means it. She pays with her life but Maurice needs to decide if to truly live without her or exchange his life for hers.
View MoreAuthors POVThe kidnappers drove back in silence. The night pressed against the windows, heavy and unwelcoming, the headlights carving a narrow path through it. No one spoke. No one dared to. The engine’s low hum was the only sound, steady but tense, as if even the vehicle understood it was carrying a mistake they could not undo.Leila slept in the backseat, her head leaned against the window, her breathing soft and uneven. Exhaustion had taken her the moment they left the execution site. She had fought to stay awake at first, her eyes blinking slowly, her shoulders trembling from the adrenaline rush. But the quiet, the tension, the emotional heaviness around her pushed her past her limit. Even in sleep, her brows pinched slightly, as if her mind still held the memory of fear.Marcus kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror. His jaw clenched, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Guilt settled around him like a second skin, suffocating and solid. He had pointed a g
Author’s POVThe men pulled Leila through the damp corridor without a word. Her wrists were bound, her steps uneven from the rough handling, her breath sharp against the cloth tied over her mouth. The place smelled of smoke and the place was silent. They stopped only when they reached a narrow room lit by a single hanging bulb that swayed like it feared staying still.The leader jerked his chin. The hood came off.Leila blinked at the sudden light, her lashes still trembling. The men expected fear; they waited for panic, for the trembling pleas they were used to hearing. Instead, they froze.Her eyes lifted to them, wide and soft, unguarded in a way that disarmed more violently than any blade. Her face was streaked with dried tears, but there was something alive beneath the exhaustion, something delicate that didn’t belong in a room built for endings.The youngest of the men swallowed. “She’s just a kid.”The leader shot him a warning glare, but even he hesitated. He had carried out e
Author’s POVThe room stank of iron and fear. The lights flickered weakly, throwing shadows across the wreckage, overturned chairs, shattered glass, streaks of blood smeared across the tiled floor like a map of violence. The air was thick, humid with the aftermath of struggle. Eldric stood frozen in the doorway, his breath ragged, chest heaving as though something wild and furious was trapped inside, trying to tear its way out.Freya’s body lay still in the middle of it all.Veldena was already on her knees beside her, hands slick with blood as she pressed a soaked cloth against the wound that had stopped bleeding minutes ago. “Freya,” she whispered, voice cracking apart. “Freya, stay with me. Please, just stay with me.”Freya’s eyes fluttered once, unfocused, her lips trembling. “They took… Leila…” she breathed, barely a whisper and then she went still.Veldena’s scream tore through the air, raw and animal. It was the kind of sound that didn’t come from the throat, but from somewhere
Veldena’s POVThe world ended quietly. No explosion, no scream. Just the sound of my own breathing is sharp, uneven, wrong. I didn’t even realize I was on the floor until Eldric’s arms were around me, trying to pull me back up. My legs wouldn’t move. My chest felt like it was closing.Freya’s blood was still on my hands. I could feel it drying between my fingers, sticky and real. I kept staring at them, hoping it wasn’t real. Maybe if I blinked long enough, I’d wake up somewhere else. Somewhere where Freya was alive and Leila was still home, where I could call her and hear her say “Mama” in that soft sleepy voice.But there was no waking up. This was real.Eldric’s voice sounded far away. “Veldena, listen to me. We need to call the police. We need to tell them what happened”“I can’t,” I whispered. The word scraped my throat.He tried again, his tone firmer. “You have to. They’ll help us find her.”Find her. The words didn’t make sense. I couldn’t think in straight lines anymore. My m
Veldena’s POVThe air outside still smelled faintly of coffee and camera lights when we stepped out of the studio. Eldric walked beside me, his hand brushing mine now and then as we laughed about something the director had said. It had been one of the few light days with no heavy questions, no forced smiles. Just music, work, and a few quiet minutes of peace. For once, I felt normal.Freya had texted earlier, asking me to drop by her house after the videoshoot. She said she had “something funny” to show me, probably one of those office pranks she loved pulling on her colleagues. I didn’t think much of it. Freya was the kind of person who could turn anything into a joke, even a broken printer.Eldric insisted on coming with me. “You’ve been working too much,” he said, “and Freya’s the only one who makes you laugh like a real person.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue.The drive wasn’t long. I remember talking about the song we’d just recorded, about how maybe it could be the title trac
Authors POVHailey did not plan to believe until she held proof in her hand. Proof was the solid thing she needed, something that would turn the fog of suspicion into a hard, undeniable fact. Rumors and half-truths were useful for gossip, but proof was a weapon. Once she had it, she could aim.It started with a quiet phone call. Hailey had contacted a man who owed her favors from the old days and he had made another contact for her: a lab technician who worked at the city hospital. The technician was not proud of what he did. He was paid well and he liked the feeling of wielding influence in small, dangerous ways. He had access to files, to scraps of information that most people never saw. He told Hailey he could pull something small from the archives. He asked for discretion. Hailey agreed. Discretion was part of the plan.The technician worked at night, where fewer eyes watched and the system felt loose. He did not break locks loudly; he moved through the databases like someone
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