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Chapter 50: Why?

last update Zuletzt aktualisiert: 28.02.2026 21:48:08

Valeria Mary Storm

The grand hall blurred at the edges the instant our eyes locked across the room. My mother. Seventeen years compressed into one heartbeat that slammed so hard against my ribs I felt it in my teeth. The air, already thick with woodsmoke, spiced wine, and the mingled scents of the pack, suddenly felt heavier—her scent threading through it all like a ghost I’d tried to bury. Faint lavender and old regret, the same one that used to cling to my childhood blankets before she took t
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  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 53: The Devil's File

    Vincenzo DrakvolkThis—right here—is what success looks like when every piece of a plan falls perfectly into place.I stand in the center of the grand hall, silent and still while the crowd buzzes around me. Crystal chandeliers spill golden light across polished marble floors, and the air is thick with expensive perfume and quiet ambition. My gaze remains fixed on the human man standing proudly on the stage, his voice echoing through the room as he boasts about his newest creation.Investry.According to him, the perfume is revolutionary—crafted specially for werewolves. Refined. Luxurious. A scent powerful enough to enhance our natural instincts.The audience murmurs with interest. Some even look impressed.I almost laugh.Because everyone in this room is pretending not to see what is painfully obvious.As if we aren’t all aware of the truth lurking beneath his polished presentation.As if we aren’t betting on the same thing.That somewhere behind the glittering brand and smooth word

  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 52: A family Reunion?

    Velaria Mary Storm I did something I never imagined I would do in my right mind. Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the aching need to understand why I had been so easy to leave behind. The question had lived inside me for years—quiet, poisonous, festering in the dark corners of my heart. And now that she stood before me, flesh and breath and trembling hands, I could not keep it buried any longer. “Why?” My voice cracked before I could stop it. “Why did you leave me alone?” I refused to look at her at first. I stared instead at the marble floor of the balcony, at the way the night wind tugged at my dress, at anything but the woman I was supposed to call mother. “You left me,” I whispered, and then louder, the words tearing out of my throat. “You called me a burden. A mistake. How could you?” The tears came faster than I could fight them. Hot. Humiliating. Unstoppable. “All those years…” My chest heaved. “If I hadn’t been the one married to your Alphas… woul

  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 51: Wasn't I enough?

    Velaria Mary Storm“That’s my mother.”The words left my mouth sharper than I intended, cutting through the room like a blade.Three sets of eyes turned to me at once. Silence followed—thick, heavy, almost cautious. They all understood immediately. I saw it in the way their expressions shifted.“Oh…” Lorenzo breathed softly.I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh?” I echoed, my voice rising. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”Valentino tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You’ve never spoken about her.”“There’s nothing to speak about,” I fired back too quickly. My pulse was racing now, my chest tight. “She left. I was a child, and she walked away like I was something she could set down and forget. So forgive me if I don’t feel overwhelmed with joy about her sudden desire to reappear.”The room went quiet again.Vincenzo folded his arms, leaning back against the table. “You hate her.”“I do.” The answer came out steady—but inside, I felt anything but steady. My throat b

  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 50: Why?

    Valeria Mary StormThe grand hall blurred at the edges the instant our eyes locked across the room. My mother. Seventeen years compressed into one heartbeat that slammed so hard against my ribs I felt it in my teeth. The air, already thick with woodsmoke, spiced wine, and the mingled scents of the pack, suddenly felt heavier—her scent threading through it all like a ghost I’d tried to bury. Faint lavender and old regret, the same one that used to cling to my childhood blankets before she took them with her.My fingers tightened around Vincenzo’s until the bones in my hand ached. He felt it instantly, that sharp spike in my pulse, the way my scent fractured from calm Luna composure into something raw and jagged. Lorenzo’s low growl rumbled behind me, barely audible but vibrating through the floorboards into my soles. Valentino’s arm, still linked with mine, went rigid.They knew.Three sets of eyes flicked to the woman by the far fireplace—silver-streaked dark hair, the same sharp chee

  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 49: Welcome party 2

    Valeria Mary Storm The grand hall seemed to breathe differently the moment we stepped through the wide double doors. The air was thick with woodsmoke from the low fires, candle wax, spiced wine, and the layered scents of dozens of wolves—some familiar, some foreign, all watching. My pulse hammered against my ribs, loud enough I was sure someone would hear it, but I kept my chin level, shoulders back, the way Mira had drilled into me. No slouch. No fidget. Just steady. Vincenzo’s hand rested at the small of my back—warm, firm, thumb tracing a slow, deliberate arc that sent heat curling through me even as it anchored me. Valentino walked on my left, arm linked with mine, his fingers laced through my own in that quiet, unbreakable way he had. Lorenzo moved just a half-step behind, close enough that I could feel the brush of his presence like a shadow made of heat and leather. They didn’t crowd me. They surrounded me. And somehow that made the room feel smaller, safer. The murmurs star

  • The Alphas’Dirty Desires : Moan for Us   Chapter 48: The Welcome party

    Valeria Mary The lesson room was bathed in soft, steady light from tall windows, the air carrying the faint scent of polished wood and old paper. Mira stood across from me at the long table—no slate or chalk in sight, just a small leather-bound book open between us and a few neatly arranged notecards she had prepared earlier. She moved with quiet precision, turning a page to the section on formal address. “Luna,” she said, her tone calm and measured, “the elders will test you in the smallest ways tonight. A hesitation in your greeting, a glance that drops too soon—they read it all. Speak clearly, but never loudly. Hold their eyes long enough to show respect, but never so long it becomes a challenge.” I nodded, repeating the phrases she demonstrated: the measured greeting for the council head, the warmer inflection for the younger ranked wolves, the subtle deference when an elder offered advice that felt more like an order. “‘The pack thrives under shared strength,’” she promp

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