LOGINVincenzo DrakvolkFor the first week after everything ended, the air had been heavy—filled with quiet, with questions, with eyes that searched for reassurance even when no one spoke the need out loud. Wolves who had inhaled that poison had been unstable, their bodies rejecting what had been forced into them, their instincts struggling to find balance again. Some had collapsed. Some had raged. Some had simply gone silent.We did not allow chaos to take root.We contained it.We controlled it.We corrected it.Now, I watched as training resumed in the lower grounds, movements sharp again, disciplined. Guards rotated in calculated shifts. Messengers moved between sectors with purpose. The system had not broken.It had been tested.And it held.Footsteps approached behind me, steady, unhurried.I didn’t turn.“Report,” I said.Lorenzo came to stand beside me, arms crossed loosely over his chest, gaze following mine over the land. There was always a difference between us in moments like th
VelariaI stood by the window of our room, watching the early morning light stretch across the pack grounds. The air was calm, almost too calm, as if the land itself was recovering from everything that had happened. Wolves moved about their duties in the distance, slower than usual, more aware, more careful. There were still guards posted at every corner, still patrols running through the night, but the tension had shifted. It was no longer panic.It was healing.Behind me, I heard movement. Soft. Familiar.I didn’t turn immediately.I just stood there, letting the silence breathe between us.“You’ve been up for a while,” Valentino said, his voice low, steady, still carrying that calm authority that had never left him—even when everything else had been falling apart.“I couldn’t sleep,” I replied, not bothering to hide it.That wasn’t new.Sleep had become something that came in pieces now. Short, shallow moments instead of rest. Every time I closed my eyes for too long, I saw it agai
Dante The moonlight spilled across the private villa like liquid silver, painting the infinity pool and the surrounding tropical gardens in a soft, romantic glow. Three weeks of chaos had finally settled. Richard was gone, Valerie’s mother was responding well to treatment, and for the first time in months, I could breathe without the weight of duty crushing my chest.Tonight was ours.Serah stood on the wide terrace overlooking the ocean, the warm Lagos night breeze teasing the hem of her short, silky white dress. She looked ethereal — long dark hair cascading down her back, golden skin glowing under the moonlight, and those wide, expressive eyes that had owned me since the moment I first saw her.My Serah.I had waited long enough.I stepped behind her, sliding my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest. She melted into me instantly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as my mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear.“Dante…” she whispered, her voice already br
velaria Drakvolk:Three weeks had passed since everything changed.Richard was finally locked away where he could never touch our lives again, and Mom’s cancer treatments were finally showing real progress — the doctors were optimistic for the first time in months. The constant fear that had gripped my chest for so long had begun to loosen its hold. Tonight, for the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to feel light. To feel wanted. To feel utterly, deliciously owned.I lay sprawled across the enormous custom bed in our Lagos penthouse, the silk sheets whispering against my bare skin. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a glittering view of the city lights, but my attention was completely captured by the three men standing at the foot of the bed.My husbands. My triplets. Vincenzo, Lorenzo, and Valentino Drakvolk.They were identical in the way only triplets could be — tall, powerfully built, with the same sharp, aristocratic features, dark piercing eyes, and th
Velaria POVThe smell hit me first.Not blood.Not smoke.Not even that sickening sweetness that had clung to everything for days like a lie refusing to fade.This was different.Clean.Sharp.Clinical.Antiseptic and alcohol and something faintly medicinal that settled into the back of my throat and stayed there.I stood just outside one of the recovery wings, my fingers curled loosely against my palm, watching as stretchers were wheeled past me one after another. Some of the children were awake now, their eyes wide and disoriented, clinging weakly to the hands of the medics guiding them. Others were still unconscious, their small bodies too still beneath thin blankets, machines already being set up around them before they were even fully inside the rooms.The mothers were worse.Not physically.Emotionally.Some of them cried without sound, lips trembling, shoulders shaking as they reached for their children the moment they were allowed close enough. Others didn’t cry at all—they ju
Consciousness didn’t return all at once.It came in fragments.Sound before sight.Pain before memory.A low ringing pressed against the inside of my skull, dull and heavy, like something had struck me from the inside out. My body felt wrong—slower than it should have been, heavier, like I had been dragged through something thick and suffocating and only just pulled free. For a moment, I didn’t move. I stayed there, suspended between waking and whatever darkness I had been forced into, trying to piece together what had happened.Then I heard it.A strained breath.Not mine.Her.My eyes opened immediately.Velaria.She was on her knees a few feet away, her body trembling, one hand pressed weakly against her chest like she was trying to steady something that refused to calm. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted as she struggled to breathe through whatever the perfume had done to her system. There was pain there—raw and unfiltered—and the moment I saw it, everything else snapped into
Serah Warmth.Wet.Slow.That was the first thing that dragged me from sleep — a soft, insistent tongue tracing the seam of my folds like it had all night to learn every inch. No hurry. No roughness. Just long, deliberate drags from entrance to clit, flat and heavy, coating me in saliva and my own
Lorenzo DrakvolkValentino switches breasts—sucking the other nipple deep while his free hand spreads her wider. I follow the motion—mouth trailing hot, open kisses down her ribs, over the soft curve of her stomach, until I’m level with heaven.I hook her legs over my shoulders, spreading her open
Lorenzo DrakvolkI’m two steps above them when it happens.One second she’s walking like a drowned kitten in our too-big clothes, the next her foot snags that damn sweatpant hem and she’s pitching forward like a baby deer on ice.Valentino moves first—always does when it’s about catching her. Arm a
Vincenzo DrakvolkBeing Drakvolk meant learning early that survival was never enough. My father made sure of that. He used to say the world was not cruel, only honest, and that cruelty was what weak men called truth when they were too soft to take what they deserved. He spoke those words calmly, li







