(Damien’s POV)Ethan returned with nothing.“I searched everywhere,” he said, frustration heavy in his voice. “No one has seen the old woman. It’s like she never existed.”I clenched my jaw, barely stopping myself from breaking something.She came to us. Spoke about a curse, about death, then vanished like a ghost.None of it made sense.Jaxon exhaled. “What now?”I didn’t answer.Because if she wouldn’t come to us, then I would force her to appear.---I locked myself in the library, pacing.The scent of old parchment and leather filled the air, but I couldn’t focus. Books were useless. The woman had answers, and I needed them.Now.A cold gust of air swept through the room.I turned sharply—And there she was.Standing in the dim light, wrapped in heavy robes, her eyes unreadable.The old woman.I bared my teeth. “You’ve been hiding.”She didn’t flinch. “I appear only when necessary.”I stepped forward, rage curling in my chest. “What ritual are you talking about? We’ve already done
(Sofia’s POV)“I think I just remembered something.”The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them.Damien stood in the doorway, his golden eyes sharp, unreadable.I barely noticed.Because for the first time in forever, I had a piece of my past—something real.“I saw my mother,” I whispered, my heart racing. “She looked exactly like her… like the mother I lost.”Damien’s body tensed.I reached for his arm, my excitement bubbling over. “Isn’t that amazing? I’ve been trying to remember for so long, and now—”“It’s just a dream.”The sharpness in his voice made me blink.I frowned. “No, Damien. It felt real.”He exhaled, stepping past me into the room. “Dreams feel real all the time, sweetheart. But they’re not. It’s best if you ignore it.”I shook my head. “No. This was different.”He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me.Something was wrong.“I know it was real,” I pressed. “You don’t understand how much this means to me! I finally have a piece of—”“Sofia
(Sofia’s POV)I woke up to an empty bed.Damien’s side was cold, like he’d been up for hours.It wasn’t unusual—he was always up before me. But something about today felt different.His mood had shifted overnight. He’d been distant. Watching me too closely. Like he was waiting for something to happen.I sighed, stretching before sliding out of bed. The second I stepped into the hallway, the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet filled the air.I blinked. Damien doesn’t cook.Curious, I followed the scent to the dining area.And then I froze.Sitting on the table was an envelope with my name written in Damien’s sharp handwriting. Beside it, a set of keys.I frowned, picking up the letter."Meet me outside. I have something for you."My heart skipped.What was he up to now?---Fifteen minutes later, I stepped outside, finding Damien leaning against his car, waiting.His golden eyes locked onto me instantly.He smirked. “Took you long enough.”I crossed my arms. “What’s going on?”H
(Sofia’s POV)The excitement from seeing my culinary shop lasted the entire day.I ran my fingers over the polished countertops, admired the perfect kitchen layout, and even tested the state-of-the-art equipment. Every detail was exactly how I’d dreamed it.Damien had built this for me.For hours, I couldn’t stop smiling.And Damien?He watched me the entire time.His golden eyes followed my every move, filled with something deep, something unreadable.By evening, we returned to the penthouse, my heart still racing with excitement.I turned to Damien, grabbing his hands. “I still can’t believe you did this.”His smirk was lazy, confident. “Believe it, sweetheart. It’s yours.”I bit my lip. “You really think I can run it?”He cupped my cheek, tilting my chin up. “I don’t think. I know.”Warmth bloomed in my chest.I pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Thank you, Damien.”His grip tightened slightly. “You never have to thank me.”He kissed me, slow and deliberate, like he was sealing a pro
(Damien’s POV)I never thought this day would come.The final day of the contract.The deal that brought Sofia into my life. The one that was supposed to be temporary.But she was never temporary to me.She was everything.And now, I had to let her go.---I sat in the meeting room with my pack—Ethan, Jaxon, and Beta.The air was thick, suffocating. They all knew why we were here.The old woman stood across from me, her dark, knowing eyes locked onto mine.“The contract ends tonight,” she said.I clenched my jaw. “I know.”She stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “This is your only chance, Alpha. If you walk away now, the curse will weaken. In three moons, it will be gone completely.”Jaxon leaned forward. “And if he stays?”Her expression darkened. “She will die.”A deep growl rumbled in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe.I had spent days fighting this. Looking for another way.But there was none.I had to leave her.Beta exhaled. “You really think this will work?”The ol
(Sofia’s POV – Past Life)The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting silver light over the castle walls. The air was still, too still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.Something was wrong.I could feel it in my bones.The halls of the palace, once warm and alive with laughter, felt hollow. My footsteps echoed against the marble floors, my long gown trailing behind me as I walked.I was supposed to be in my chambers, preparing for the future that had been laid out for me since birth.A Luna by blood, a princess by duty.Betrothed to a man I had grown up beside—Jake.A match made for the strength of our pack. A union of power, security.And yet, even as I wore the silk robes of a bride-to-be, my heart was restless. Something felt wrong.Then the first scream tore through the night.I froze.Then another.And another.The sound of swords clashing, walls breaking, the scent of blood flooding the halls.A guard rushed toward me, his chest heaving. "Princess, you must leave! The
Chapter 62(Sofia’s POV – Present Day)I woke up screaming.The past crashed into me like a storm—violent, unrelenting. My chest heaved, my hands clawing at the sheets as if I were still on that battlefield, still bleeding out in Damien’s arms.I could feel it.The blade slicing through my body.The pain. The betrayal.Tade’s blank expression as he ripped my life away.Jake’s cold stare as he watched me fall.Damien’s voice, raw with grief, calling my name over and over—begging me to stay.And then darkness.I clutched my chest, trying to breathe.It wasn’t real.Not anymore.But the moment my feet hit the cold floor, I knew—it was real.It happened.I had lived before.And I had died.And Damien…Where was Damien?Panic surged through me as I staggered into the living room."Damien!" My voice cracked, but the penthouse remained silent.I checked the bedroom. The kitchen. Everywhere.Empty.Then my eyes landed on the table.A stack of papers sat there, waiting.My stomach plummeted.W
(Sofia’s POV – Present Day)The walls of the penthouse felt too tight.Like the air had been sucked out, leaving nothing but the weight of silence.Damien was gone.And I wasn’t supposed to remember.I paced the room, rage coiling beneath my skin.Beta’s words echoed in my mind."You’re not supposed to remember."What the hell did that mean?I ran my fingers through my hair, frustration building with every second.No.I wasn’t just going to sit here and wait for answers to fall into my lap.If Damien wasn’t here, then I’d find someone who would tell me the truth.I grabbed my keys and stormed toward the door.The moment I stepped outside, the crisp evening air hit me.But I barely noticed.Because my mind was too loud, too frantic.I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.Beta wasn’t going to talk?Fine.I had other ways to get information.I pressed my foot against the gas, speeding through the city.Every streetlight blurred past, but my
The relentless twilight of the 'Wolf Born Twice' reality began to fray at the edges. The sharp scents of pine and blood softened, the perpetual chill lessened, and the oppressive shadows receded. It wasn’t a sudden transition, but a gradual melting, like frost under a hesitant sun.Sofia felt the change, a subtle shift in the fabric of this dreamscape. She was still the predator, vigilant and detached, the cold logic of survival dictating her every instinct. But a different sensation was bleeding in – a warmth, a pull, a persistent, gentle pressure she had been ruthlessly pushing away.Let go, Sofia. The voice was Lyra’s, no longer distant and pleading, but closer, clearer, imbued with a quiet strength. Let go of the fight. Not the one out there, but the one within you. Come back to the in-between.The 'in-between'. The place she had visited before, a liminal space connecting her conscious mind, her wolf, and the deeper currents of her being. It felt… safer than the twilight world. Le
The biting wind whipped around Damien and Kieran as they descended the worn stone steps into the ancestral crypts beneath the pack house. The air grew colder with each step, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else – something ancient and heavy, the accumulated presence of generations of wolves laid to rest. This wasn't merely a burial site; it was a reservoir of lineage, of history, of secrets best left undisturbed.But secrets were exactly what they needed.After Draven Thorne's chilling message, Damien’s focus had shifted. Protecting Sofia from this external threat was paramount, but he couldn’t fight blindly. They needed to understand the Blackwood curse, its true nature, and its connection to The Hollow Order and this terrifying figure, Thorne. Kieran’s frantic research had unearthed fragmented mentions of Elias Blackwood, a figure shrouded in mystery at the very genesis of the curse, and the possibility of contacting ancestral spirits bound to powerful bloodlines.“
Damien stood by the infirmary window, the first weak light of dawn painting the sky in hesitant greys and pinks. Sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. The image of Sofia’s still form, the echo of Kieran’s devastating words about the Blackwood curse and its terrible solutions, were etched into his mind. He had refused the grim options presented, choosing instead the impossible path: to find a way to reach Sofia, to pull her back from whatever twilight realm held her, and face the curse together.A sharp rap on the door shattered the fragile quiet. Kieran entered, his face even more strained than before, if that were possible.“Alpha,” he said, his voice tight. “We have a problem. Another one.”Damien turned, his jaw set. “More Hollow Order?”Kieran nodded, but his eyes held a different kind of dread. “Yes. But… not just a sigil this time. It’s… a statement.”“Where?”“Just outside the western border. The Creekside Pack.”Damien’s eyes narrowed. The Creekside Pack. A small, quiet group
back in reality The sterile scent of the infirmary chafed at Damien’s senses. He sat beside Sofia’s bed, his hand holding hers. It was slack and unresponsive in his grasp. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale and drawn. She hadn’t stirred since collapsing hours ago, after the invisible struggle that had wracked her form, leaving her locked within whatever twisted reality her mind now inhabited. He remembered the look in her eyes just before they fluttered closed – distant, cold, utterly unlike his Sofia.Lyra, usually a comforting presence, was silent within him, a dull ache where fierce protectiveness should have been. It was as if even his wolf was reeling from whatever had happened inside Sofia’s dreamscape.A soft knock preceded Kieran’s entry. He looked even more weary than he had earlier, dark circles under his eyes, ancient scrolls clutched in one hand. He moved quietly, stopping respectfully a few feet from the bed.“Any change, Alpha?” Kieran’s voice was low, filled with
The world was a canvas of perpetual twilight, painted in hues of bruised purple and blood-red. Sofia didn’t walk; she stalked. The ground beneath her boots was hard-packed earth, stained dark in places that still smelled faintly of iron. The air was cold, carrying the scent of pine and something sharp and acrid – fear.She moved with a predator’s grace, silent and efficient. Every muscle was coiled, ready to strike or vanish. Her senses were honed to a razor’s edge. The rustle of leaves wasn’t just wind; it was a potential ambush. The snapped twig wasn’t just nature; it was an intruder. This wasn’t the soft, familiar world of the pack house, or the vibrant, sunlit forest she knew. This was a battlefield, a hunting ground, a place where the weak were consumed.Her hand rested habitually on the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. The metal was cold, worn smooth by countless grips. It felt right, an extension of her will. Her clothes were practical, dark leather and sturdy cloth, de
The heavy oak door of Damien’s study burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that rattled the framed maps on the opposite side. Damien looked up from the reports on his desk, his eyes narrowing as Kieran Ash stumbled in, his usual composed demeanor replaced by a frantic urgency. Dust and what looked suspiciously like dried blood smudged his worn leather armor.“Kieran! What in the name of the Goddess happened?” Damien’s voice was sharp, immediately on alert. He rose, circling the desk.Kieran leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily, his gaze wild. “No time for pleasantries, Alpha. It’s happening again.”“What is? Spill it,” Damien demanded, reaching for the hunting knife habitually sheathed at his belt.“The killings,” Kieran choked out, pushing off the frame. He crossed the room in a few strides, his eyes locking onto Damien’s. “Across the border territories. Three packs hit in two nights. Brutal. No survivors left to talk.”Damien’s jaw tightened. He’d heard whisp
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The blood on the floor had long since dried. The candles flickered as if they feared what we were about to do.Lyra stood at the center of the chamber barefoot, her cloak discarded, her runes fully exposed across her arms and collarbone. Her breathing was shallow, but her gaze had steadied. Focused.“This is not a spell,” she said, voice low. “It’s a bridge. Once we begin, I won’t control where you go. The memories will pull you toward the piece of her soul that still remembers you.”“And if it doesn’t?” I asked.She looked at me with those storm-gray eyes. “Then you’ll wander her past until your spirit forgets who it was.”I didn’t flinch.“If there’s a part of her that still remembers me,” I murmured, stepping closer, “that’s all I need.”Lyra knelt beside the basin of now-consecrated blood. She whispered an ancient chant, tracing her fingers in precise patterns above the surface. The blood began to glow faintly, pulsing—like it was responding to my hear
(Damien’s POV – Present Day)The moon was barely more than a sickle of light in the sky. Clouds churned over the forest, and the air was heavy—too quiet, too still. The trees whispered warnings in a language only the cursed could understand.I hadn’t planned to return to the ritual site tonight.But something—a pull—dragged me here.The clearing still bore the markings of the ceremony that broke me. The silver runes carved into stone still shimmered faintly, and the scent of magic hung in the air like cold smoke.I stepped into the circle.And stopped.Someone was there.A body.A woman.She lay curled at the edge of the stones, half-covered in leaves, her skin dusted with blood and soil. A torn cloak clung to her frame, silver thread stitched into its seams—ancient symbols I hadn’t seen in centuries.I rushed to her side.She wasn’t a rogue. Her scent was strange, like rain and stardust. Not of this land.Her breathing was shallow. Her skin ice-cold.But then, her lips parted.And in
(Damien’s POV – Three Moons Without Her)Time moved differently without her.Slower.Heavier.Like the minutes were dragging their feet through wet concrete.Three days had passed since the ritual.Since I bound my name to another woman to deceive ancient spirits.Since I whispered goodbye into the ear of the only woman who ever made this cursed blood of mine feel worthy.I still felt her breath on my neck.Still caught her scent in the folds of the sheets.Still expected her to walk barefoot into the kitchen every morning with a sleepy smirk, teasing me about my obsessions.But she didn’t.And she wouldn’t.Not for three moons.And I was starting to forget how to breathe without her.---The penthouse was too quiet.I left it behind after the second day.I couldn’t walk into that room without hearing the machines beeping beside her bed. Without seeing the imprint of her body on the pillow. Without smelling cinnamon and honey on the linens.So I returned to the Blackwood manor—a place