Mag-log inValarie POVI stood in the middle of my room, the photograph clenched so tightly in my hand that its edges pressed into my skin.Could it be the same man she was talking to on the phone earlier?“If you won’t tell me, Mom,” I whispered to the empty room, “I’ll find out for myself.”The decision felt like stepping off a ledge—terrifying, final… but also relieving.I didn’t even bother grabbing a jacket as I left. The air outside slapped against my skin, but I welcomed it. It kept me sharp, kept me from overthinking. Because if I stopped to think too much, I might turn back.And I couldn’t do that. Not this time.The pack house loomed ahead, all dark wood and quiet authority. It had always felt like a place full of answers—and rules. Today, I was only interested in one of those things.Answers.The employees bowed deeply when they saw me approaching the door. They remained still until I walked past them and pushed the door open without knocking.Inside, the familiar scent of pine and so
Valeria Mary Storm:I ran.My body shifted mid-stride, bones cracking, stretching, reforming in a way that should have hurt but didn't anymore. Fur rippled over my skin as the wolf took over—powerful, instinctive, untamed. For a few precious seconds, I wasn’t Valeria Storm, the Luna, the daughter, the disappointment, the question mark.I was just motion.Just instinct.Just escape.The forest blurred into streaks of green and shadow as I pushed harder, letting the wind rip through my fur, letting it strip away every thought I didn’t want to face. My lungs burned in a way that felt almost cleansing, like pain I could finally control.But it didn’t last.Because the anger followed me.It always did.It sat in my chest like a second heartbeat—loud, insistent, impossible to ignore. My mother’s voice replayed again and again in fragments.I was neglected too.Like that excused anything.Like pain inherited was somehow less painful.My stride faltered.Just for a second.But that second was
Valeria Mary Storm: The heat from the gas stove gave me a warmth I didn't know I needed. I was done. Physical and emotional. I wondered, deep inside me, if I hadn't taken Mom back… would my life still be this twisted now? Lies upon lies stacked so high I couldn't even see the truth anymore. “Val!! That tea is already boiling…” "Oh.” I hissed and turned it off quickly, lifting the kettle down before it spilled over. The sharp whistle still rang in my ears. She raised her eyebrows, staring at me too closely, like she was searching for cracks in my skin. "Is anything wrong? You look down.” "No… nothing…” That was a lie. It was always a lie when it came to her. “Oh Val baby…” Her voice softened in that way that made my stomach twist. “I have something to discuss with you… I think a mini you would be a great idea…” "Mom!!” The word tore out of me before I could stop it. She tilted her head, clearly startled. Maybe she wasn't expecting that sharpness. Maybe she thought this ti
Dante POVThe morning after my conversation with Sarah, I arrived at the office earlier than usual, still carrying the weight of everything that had happened—and the fact that those guys still didn’t trust Sarah enough to say a word.Not that they should, though. Trained, marked men like that are always cautious.I had barely settled at my desk when Mr. Kelvin, our team leader, strode into the open-plan sales floor with his usual brisk energy.“Sales team! Meeting room. Now,” he barked, his voice carrying across the desks.He was known for his sharp, brilliant mind when it came to sales execution. Seeing him enter with that kind of intensity meant only one thing—we had a big job.“Five minutes. This is important.”In less than a minute, the entire sales team had gathered their notebooks and laptops. I exchanged a brief glance with Sarah across the aisle. She gave me a small, knowing nod before we both headed toward the conference room.The air shifted. Whispers followed me—people were
Sarah povI leaned against the cool marble counter in the dimly lit kitchen of Dante’s apartment. I had been awake for hours already. He stood across from me, his broad shoulders relaxed yet his dark eyes always watchful, always scanning. I loved that about him, the way he seemed to sense every shift in the air before it even happened.“Dante,” I began softly, my voice steady even though a tight knot twisted in my stomach, “why didn’t you ever tell me you were the beta all this while?”He paused, setting down the knife he’d been using to slice fresh fruit for breakfast. His eyes met mine, and for a brief second I caught a rare flicker of vulnerability on his face—the kind he almost never let show. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and let out a slow breath.“I just didn’t want you to see me differently, Sarah.” he said, his tone was low and sincere,yet bold. “When we first met, everything between us was so new and easy. You were this bright, disturbed patient of mine trying
Dante POVSarah lay curled against my side, her head resting on my chest, one leg thrown over mine. Her breathing was slow and even, but I knew she was awake—the tension in her body gave her away.Last night had been intense, exactly what I needed after the chaos of yesterday’s event, but the weight of what had happened refused to stay buried.I ran my fingers through her hair, letting the silky strands slip between them. She stirred, tilting her face up to look at me. Her eyes were soft with concern, the kind that made my chest tighten.“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice still husky from sleep and everything we’d done the night before.“Morning,” I replied, unable to keep the heaviness out of my tone. “We need to talk about yesterday.”She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow so she could see me better. The sheet slipped down to her waist, exposing the soft curve of her chest, but neither of us moved to cover her. This conversation was too important.“Tell me what happened,
SerahThe apartment felt wrong without Vel.Her mug still sat on the counter from three days ago. The throw blanket she always stole when we watched movies was folded wrong on the couch — my folding, not hers.Even the faint trace of her ex’s cologne lingered in the hallway like a bad joke. It made
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







