Mag-log inLilahFor a second, I am certain I’ve died.There’s no pain.Nobody.No sound.Just… absence.Then the absence fills up with something worse.Not noise. Echo.The pain comes back in layers—first a distant ache, then jagged roar—like waves slamming into a cliff after a moment of eerie still water.I’m not in the circle anymore.I’m nowhere.White stretches in every direction. Not sky, not ground. Just blank, endless light. When I look down, there’s no floor, but I’m not falling either. My feet are where feet should be, but they don’t seem to touch anything.“Great,” I rasp, or think I do. My voice makes no sound. “Afterlife limbo. Love that for me.”A laugh answers me.Not cruel. Not kind. Just… amused.“You’re not dead,” a voice says. “Yet.”It’s everywhere and nowhere. Feminine and not, old and young. Like a choir and a whisper at once.“Let me guess,” I say. “Moon Goddess. Big fan of dramatic timing.”Light ripples, like someone dropped a stone in it. A form coalesces in front of me
LilahThe screaming stops before the pain does.My throat gives out—raw, shredded—and the sound dies, but the tearing inside me keeps going. It’s quieter now, in a way that makes it worse. Like a saw going through bone after it’s already gone through flesh.The world swims back in fits and starts.I’m upright. Somehow. The light cocooning my legs and waist is the only reason; it holds me in place like I’m pinned in amber. My head lolls, and my vision doubles. The circle blurs into streaks of white and gray.Voices seep through the roar in my ears.“…hold her steady…”“…heart rate—”“—Crone, if you interfere—”“Shut up,” Morwen snaps, clear and cold.The chanting doesn’t stop.Wolves ring the circle still. I can feel their eyes, heavy as hands. Muted gasps. Low growls. A pup crying somewhere in the back shushed too late.“Cursed Luna.” “Sever her, free him.” “She’s not even a real wolf.”That one lands the deepest. Because it’s true. And because it’s everything they’ve never said t
“You look like you’re going to chew your tongue off,” I murmur to Cassian as we walk.“I hate this,” he says.“Noted,” I say. “Anything else?”“If this goes sideways,” he says, voice low, “say my name. Just once. Even if you don’t think I can hear you. I’ll take that as permission.”“Permission for what?” I ask.“To make very poor life decisions on your behalf,” he says.My throat tightens. “You already have.”Leo snorts softly. “This one will be worse.”We step out into the courtyard.The ritual ground is in the center of the compound, where the training ring usually stands. Tonight, the packed dirt has been smoothed and swept. Chalk and ash lines carve a complex design into the ground—a wide outer circle, smaller inner rings, runes jagged like teeth.Candles burn at cardinal points, their flames unnaturally steady despite the breeze. Bundles of herbs smolder in clay bowls, sending up curls of bitter smoke that sting my nose.The whole pack is here.Wolves ring the circle in wide, te
LilahThe moon rises like an accusation.Too big. Too bright. Its edge is rimmed in red, as if someone dragged it through blood before hanging it in the sky.The whole compound feels wrong.Wolves move through the courtyards in tight little knots instead of loose, easy flows. No one lingers. No one laughs. Even the pups are quiet, ears flat, eyes too wide.Magic thickens the air, a low‑grade hum under my skin. Every time I breathe, it feels like I’m inhaling static.Naomi paces the length of our room in hard, angry strides. She’s been at it so long there’s a visible path in the rush mat on the floor. Bella sits on the edge of my bed, hands clenched in her lap, knuckles white.I sit cross‑legged against the headboard, back pressed to the cool stone wall, watching the strip of sky through the narrow window shift from blue to indigo to black.My boots are laced. My jacket is on. The knife Morwen gave me lies within easy reach on the blanket beside my thigh. The bone charm Jax gave me is
“No,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “You don’t get to ‘Lilah’ me like that fixes anything. You stood in that room and watched them draw the outline of where they’re going to cut me open, and you still let the day end without coming here.”His shoulders tighten. “I stopped them from moving the Rite up,” he says. “I forced them to wipe the circle. I bought us time.”“Us?” I echo. “Or you?”Anger flashes in his eyes. “Do you think this is easy for me?” he snaps. “Every choice I make has a hundred lives balanced on it. I’m trying to keep you alive, and this pack intact and the curse from detonating in our faces. Forgive me if that takes more thought than just charging in and biting a mark into your neck.”“If you loved me,” I say, and the words come out calm, somehow, “you wouldn’t have let it get to the point where they needed chalk.”Silence slams into the room.He looks like I hit him. Maybe I did.“I do love you,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “That’s the problem.”Something in my c
Ronan I don’t feel the sun set so much as I feel her decision hard. The pack goes about its evening—patrols shifting, cooks shouting over simmering pots, and pups herded inside by weary parents—but under it all, the bond hums like wire under tension. Lilah’s presence has edges tonight. No more hazy indecision, no more soft, searching pulses. She’s… braced. Gathering herself. Preparing to jump. Or cut. The knowledge sits in my gut like a stone. I pace the length of my office for the fifth time, then force myself to stop. Movement won’t solve this. Strategy won’t solve this. There’s no clever angle, no political maneuver that will magically make the curse evaporate, and the Rite vanish and Malric choke on his own scheming. If I want her—truly want her—there’s only one thing I haven’t done. Choose her. Unqualified. In front of everyone. Mark her. Claim her. Stand between her and whatever the Goddess throws at us after and tell fate to choke on it. Every time I think
*Lilah*His hand closes on my shoulder.I move.It’s not graceful or pretty. It’s a panicked, sideways twist and drop, my knees giving out as I throw my weight in the opposite direction of his grab.Cassian’s fingers catch only the fabric of my dress. It stretches, then slips free.I hit the dirt h
*Lilah*I don’t stay in my room.I last fifteen minutes.Fifteen minutes of pacing between the bed and the window. Fifteen minutes of replaying Malric’s words in my head like a messed‑up podcast I can’t turn off.*Luna in low form. Human shell. Wolf soul. Last Luna died for your choices. Reject
*Ronan*The world narrows.Kade’s claws are a breath from Lilah’s throat.The bond between us yanks tight—hard enough that for a heartbeat, it feels like my own neck is under his hand.My wolf roars up.I move.One moment, my hand is empty. The next, Kade’s wrist is in my grip. Bone crunches.H
*Lilah*I don’t dream.Or if I do, I don’t remember—just a heavy press of sound and heat and too many eyes.When I wake, my throat is sore, and my head aches behind my eyes like I’ve spent the night crying and trying not to.The room is dim, and curtains are drawn. For a moment, I lie still and pre







