Mag-log inI’m the last of a cursed bloodline. He’s the Alpha who lost everything because of mine. Matteo Cruz Valentino “El Lobo”—feared biker, mafia leader, Alpha without mercy—was never meant to be my mate. But the moon doesn’t care about grudges, and fate has no compassion. Now I’m trapped in his world. His rules. His war. He won’t love me. He won’t even look at me without hate in his eyes. But behind that hate is something raw… something breaking. He caged me in his world of darkness and violence… yet kisses me like I’m the only thing that’s ever made him feel real. And I’m not sure which will kill me first—his silence, or his touch.
view more「久遠さん!しっかり!」
ストレッチャーに載せられ、救急車へ運ばれる私は、腹部を襲う激しい痛みに、不安はますます募っていく。スマホの画面に付いた血の跡に構う余裕もなく、発信音を聞きながら、視界が少しずつ滲んでいく……足の間を伝わる生温い感覚、止めどなく流れているであろう体内から排出される血。それと対比して私の体温は下がって行く。救急車の中の医療スタッフの切迫した声が響く。
プツ……
電話が繋がった。
「……用件は?」
スマホから聞こえて来る冷たい声。夫の久遠湊の声だ。その声は落ち着き払っていて、私とは少しでも言葉を交わしたくないという感情がその声のトーンで読み取れる。
「湊……大変なの……私、血が、出て……赤ちゃんが……」
一瞬の静寂。答えが返って来ないその数秒は私にとって何よりも長く感じた。
「血……? 赤ちゃん?」
湊の声は“私が何を言っているのか全く分からない”といった雰囲気だ。そして大きな溜息が聞こえ、湊が冷たく言う。
「同じ手口を何度使うつもりだ?」
スマホの向こうからガヤガヤと声がしている。
「俺は忙しいんだ、君も知っているだろう? 君の芝居に付き合っている暇は無いんだよ」
私は涙を流しながら言う。
「違うの……本当に……!」
そこまで言って痛みが走る。言葉が切れてしまう。それでも伝えなくちゃいけないと思い、言う。
「今、救急車で……運んで貰ってて……」
その時だった。
「湊さん、誰と話してるの?」
スマホの向こうから女性の声がする。柔らかく甘えた口調、そしてその声の主を私は知っている。その声を聞いた瞬間、思わず息を呑み、心臓が強く跳ねる。
柔らかく甘えた口調、そしてその声……まさか、彼女……?
―——そんなはず、ない……
「くるみ……何でも無いんだ。大丈夫」
湊の言葉は重い一撃のように、私がずっと目を背けてきた予感を容赦なく裏づけた。
――くるみ……やはり、彼女だった。我が家の家政婦の娘の名前。
(湊は今、彼女と一緒に居る……どうして彼女と一緒に居るの?)
「ねぇ、湊さん、一緒に検査結果を聞きに行ってくれない?」
甘えるような声でそういう彼女に湊がふわっと笑うのがスマホ越しでも分かる。“何でも無いんだ”その一言を聞いただけでも分かる。私と話す時と彼女と話す時の声のトーンやその態度の違い。あんなに優しい声で話す湊は、私はもう何年も見ていない。
(でも、どうして……?湊は今……なぜ彼女と一緒にいるの?)
その疑問が、頭の中でグルグル回る。鼓動が激しくなり、息が苦しい。流産の危機に瀕しているから、鼓動が激しいのだと自分に言い聞かせる。私は震える体で息を吸い込み、血のついたスマホを握り締め、何度となく浮かんでは消える同じ質問を言葉にする。
「湊……何でくるみと……どうして……」
直後、スマホの向こうでアナウンスが流れる。
「愛沢くるみさん、妊婦検診でお待ちの愛沢さん、診察室三番へどうぞ~」
それが聞こえて来た次の瞬間にはプツッと通話が切れ、ツーツーツーと冷たい電子音が響いていた。
妊婦検診――
その言葉が私の心を引き裂く。
乾いた笑いが込み上げて来る。笑っている筈なのに涙が溢れて止まらない。もう手に力が入らなかった。手からスマホが滑り落ち、救急車の床にスマホが乾いた音を立てて、転がった。
(……そうだったのね)
両脚の間に温かい感触が伝わり、体内の血液は止めどなく流れ出す。それに反して私の体温は少しずつ下がっていく。
なんて、滑稽なんだろう。
私が流産の危機に瀕している時。
私の夫は他の女の妊婦検診に付き添っている。
しかもその女は、私の家の家政婦の娘だ。
「久遠さん、点滴をしますよ」
医療スタッフがそう言い、私の腕に針を刺す。痛い筈のその感覚を私はもう無くしていた。
乾いた笑いが込み上げる。すぐに痛みが走って笑っていられなくなる。手が冷たくなっていき、感覚が無くなっていく。医師である自分でもこの状態が良くない事は分かっている。
(きっと、もう、ダメ、なのよね……)
意識が朦朧とする中で、私はもう二度と目覚めたくない、と心から思った。
MatteoGideon lay broken at the base of the altar, a puppet with its strings severed. The "Source" below us pulsed with a rhythmic, sickening light, but my focus was entirely on the woman standing beside me. Aveline’s violet eyes were the only thing grounding me as the psychic static of the vault tried to tear my mind apart."We have to move," she whispered, her voice a sharp command that cut through the haze.I shifted back to my human form, the skin of my side knitting together in a jagged, painful mess of scar tissue and fresh blood. I grabbed my jacket from the floor, not for warmth, but to hide the vulnerability of my bare chest. We climbed the stone stairs of the chapel, the air growing hotter, thicker with a scent that didn't belong in the sanctuary of the dead.I pushed open the heavy oak doors, and the world I had spent fifteen years rebuilding was gone.The Black Fang clubhouse—my fortress, my home, the only place where the ghosts of my family felt at peace—was a pillar of r
AvelineDeep within the bowels of the Black Fang chapel, the world was ending in a symphony of grinding stone and ancient, agonized magic. Ezra had vanished into the shadows of the collapsing vault, leaving the silver dagger buried in Matteo’s side. The Alpha’s blood—thick, dark, and smelling of ozone—poured over the obsidian altar, fueling a ritual that was never meant to be completed.I lunged forward, the silver cuffs on my wrists snapping as the sheer force of my Guardian pulse finally shattered the metal. I didn't go for the door. I went for him."Matteo!" I choked out, catching him as his knees buckled.He fell against me, his massive frame a dead weight that nearly sent us both into the black sludge rising from the floor. I guided him down to the base of the pedestal, my hands frantically pressing against the wound in his side. The silver was poisoning him, white veins of necrosis already spidering out from the puncture site."Stay away," he rasped, his eyes unfocused, drifting
AvelineSerafina’s laughter was a jagged shard of glass cutting through the stagnant air of the underground transport. We were deep beneath the Black Fang Cemetery, the walls weeping with the dampness of the earth and the scent of centuries-old rot. I was bound to a rusted metal chair, silver-lined shackles biting into my wrists, the metal hissing against my skin as it suppressed the Guardian pulse in my veins."You look pathetic, Aveline," Serafina purred, stepping out of the shadows. She was still dressed in her emerald finery, but the silk was stained with the grime of the tunnels. She held a long, thin needle in her hand, the tip glinting with a viscous, translucent fluid. "All that 'Guardian' posturing, and here you are. Back in a cage. Back where a stray belongs."I spat toward her, my throat raw. "Is that what this is, Serafina? A cage? Or are you just pissed that even in chains, Matteo looks at me with more hunger than he’s ever shown you?"Serafina’s face contorted, her beaut
AvelineThe North Ridge was a graveyard of silence. The scent of ozone, burnt rubber, and the metallic tang of Matteo’s blood hung in the air like a physical weight, suffocating the forest. I crouched in the thicket, my chest heaving, the "shimmer" in my vision beginning to fracture into jagged, painful sparks.I had watched them take him. I had watched Ezra, the man who had sat at Matteo’s table and called him brother, kick my mate’s ribs while he was bound in silver. I had watched the Executioners drag the Alpha of the Black Fangs into the back of a blacked-out van as if he were nothing more than a carcass.My hands were buried in the frozen dirt, my knuckles white. Move, Aveline. Move.The Guardian pulse in my blood was screaming, a high-frequency vibration that told me the forest was no longer empty. The Executioners were sweeping the ridge, their thermal scanners cutting through the mist like red scythes. I was a ghost, a glitch in their tech, but I was running out of time.I sli
MatteoThe air in the sawmill bunker was stagnant, smelling of old grease and the bitter, unwashed scent of my own self-loathing. After walking out on Aveline in the gym, I had retreated to the shadows of the motor pool, my hands still shaking with the phantom sensation of her skin beneath my teeth
AvelineThe gym was a graveyard of heavy breathing and cooling iron. Kai had already slipped out, leaving me alone in the flickering, dying light of the halogen lamps. I was a mess—drenched in sweat that made my shirt translucent, my hair matted to my forehead, and my knuckles raw from the relentle
MatteoI am the Alpha of the Black Fangs, and I have spent my life mastering the art of the hunt. I know how to mask my scent, how to dampen the sound of my pulse, and how to become a ghost in my own halls. So, when I returned from the Council Chamber, I didn't burst through the doors with the roar
AvelineThe air in the old mill’s auxiliary gym was thick enough to chew. It tasted of pulverized stone, ancient iron, and the sharp, metallic tang of the adrenaline currently flooding my veins. Matteo was gone—meeting with the same Council that wanted my head on a pike—which meant this was the onl






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