Masuk~NYRA~
“Nyra!” My uncle’s voice roared with fury. Nina tipped her head in acknowledgment, but not submission. “Knox! Take that human to the dungeons.” Knox shoved past the frozen warriors, fists locking onto the chains that bound my mate. Nina lunged, a snarl ripping from me—but Aaron was there in an instant, blocking me with steady eyes and iron resolve. “Easy,” he muttered, his voice low, meant only for me. The shift ripped through me—bones snapping, fur retreating, skin knitting itself raw. I staggered, trembling, breath ragged. Aaron tore his shirt over his head and shoved it at me. “Here.” I dragged the fabric down, refusing to meet the eyes that seared into me. Some wide with shock. Others narrowed with disdain. “Everyone else,” Uncle thundered. "To my office. Now.” --- The office was suffocating. Elders crammed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with judgment and dominance so sharp it pricked my skin. I stood at the far end, back straight, Aaron guarding the locked door behind me. “It’s a miracle,” an older woman whispered, eyes shining. “The Moon Goddess has blessed her with a different mate.” “Blessed?” another elder spat. “She’s cursed us. A human? It’s an abomination.” Murmurs rose, sharp and cutting. “They can’t have pups,” one hissed. “She’s Alpha blood,” another countered. “She might still bear pups.” “Or none at all,” the first snapped back. “And a pack without heirs is a pack that dies.” Their words sliced into me like silver, cold and merciless. My chest tightened, but I kept my chin high. I was Alpha-born. I would not bow. Uncle’s gaze cut through the noise, pinning me. “You know what this means, Nyra.” “It means nothing,” I growled. “I never asked for him.” “It means everything,” he snarled back. “The Moon Goddess chose. And you will accept him.” A chorus of voices swelled—some eager, some reluctant, all suffocating. “If she refuses, strip her from the pack,” one elder barked. “No,” another said. “Let her accept him. If pups come, we’ll call it divine. If not…” His eyes slid over me like a blade. “…then we’ll know the Goddess has abandoned her.” The room stilled. Every gaze burned into me. My pulse thundered, but I kept my voice cold. “And if I don’t accept him?” Uncle leaned forward, Alpha power pressing down like a storm. His words were soft, deadly. “Then you will not have a pack.” My jaw clenched. “If I accept him, my Alpha rights are mine?” “We’ll… discuss that,” he dismissed. The same dismissal he always gave. Not today. “No.” I stepped forward, eyes blazing. “Me finding my mate was the only excuse left. Now that I’ve found him, there’s no more confusion about my claim.” “This does proves she’s not a Luna,” one elder muttered. “But what of pups?” another pressed. “If none come, Aaron succeeds her,” an elder declared. My blood roared, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Still, you must accept him.” “I will.” The words cut from me like steel. I slammed the door open, the sound echoing down the hall. Aaron followed fast, tension radiating off him. “Where are you going?” “To him.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re accepting him?” “If it makes me Alpha,” I said without hesitation, “then yes.” --- The dungeon door groaned open. He knelt, wrists shackled high, shirt torn and sticky with blood. Even like that—especially like that—his spine was straight, eyes burning as though surrender was a foreign concept. Impressive. For a human. Nina purred, prowling beneath my skin, desperate to tear the chains off and press him into us. But I forced her back, nails biting into my palms. He is my undoing. A disaster in my life. “You,” he rasped. “Expected someone else?” My voice was flat, edged with steel. His jaw tightened. “Why did you save me?” I stalked closer, my steps echoing against the stone. “Just thought it would be fun.” His jaw flexed. “To save me twice?” he sneered. I bent, deliberate, until my face hovered inches from his. I could hear his heart hammering, smell the copper of his blood, the salt of his sweat. His pulse stuttered when I leaned closer. “Trust me,” I whispered. “I would give anything to kill you right now.” “Do it.” His challenge sliced through the air between us. My fingers itched to reach for his throat—or his face—I couldn’t decide. Instead, I tilted my head. “I have a proposal for you.” “Proposal?” He chuckled low. “Moments ago, you wanted me dead.” “If you want to survive, you’ll listen.” “Do I look like I’m afraid of death?” he shot back. No. And that shit irritated me most. His defiance, even when chained. I crouched before him, meeting his glare head-on. “Death?” My hand lifted, two fingers pressing under his jaw, forcing his head back. “It doesn’t frighten me. But you… you should be terrified.” “Of what?” he spat. I leaned closer, close enough to feel his breath brush mine. “Of what I could make you.” His defiance simmered beneath exhaustion. “If I had a blade, you’d already be dead.” I chuckled low, sliding my fingers from his jaw to his throat—not squeezing, just reminding him how easy it would be. “Glad we’re on the same page.” I pressed a little harder, subtle pressure against his windpipe. But he didn’t bend. Not even a flicker in his eyes. I don’t know what to call him. Fool. Or brave. “Ours,” Nina purred. The word detonated inside me. My stomach lurched, and for a split second, I forgot how to breathe. “Not ours,” my strained voice echoed. “Liar,” she hissed. His gaze flicked to my trembling fingers, curiosity sparking behind his defiance. I curled my hand tighter around his throat, forcing the tremor still. “If you want to keep fighting me,” I whispered in his ear, lips grazing the curve of it, “you can. But remember—every wolf here would tear you apart inch by inch. Skin by skin. Bone by bone. Until you are nothing but a bleeding mess begging for death. And even then…” My breath ghosted down his neck. “…death would not be your mercy.” His jaw tightened, teeth clenching so hard I thought they might crack. The muscles in his throat flexed under my grip. A flicker of something—fear, maybe—passed in his eyes before his defiance snapped back into place. Leaning back, I let my hand slip from his throat to the torn edge of his shirt, smoothing the fabric. “But,” I said softly, “if you cooperate with me, I promise you protection. And everything you’ll need.” My thumb brushed against the split in his lip. My gaze lingered—his lips parted on their own. Smooth. Tempting. I tore myself back with a sharp breath, clearing my throat, and turned toward the door. “Wait.”~ETHAN~ And when I look back, the wolf is already there. Staring right at me. It's as tall as me, with ash-grey fur that catches the moonlight and turns almost silver. The eyes stand out more—emerald, faintly glowing, fixed and aware. It steps forward. The wood groans under the shift in weight. Heavier than it looks. Seventy kilos, at least. Another step. The floor creaks louder this time, the sound stretching through the narrow space like a warning. “Stop,” I say. It does, turning its head towards me, fully focused. “The wood is old,” I add, almost automatically. The wolf blinks. Then its tail gives a slow, controlled wag like it understood exactly what I meant. It's…it's mesmerizing. I don’t move immediately, just watch. The wolf holds where it is, weight even, head level, eyes fixed on me, not pacing, not testing distance, just… waiting. My pulse is already up, shoulders tight. Every instinct wired the wrong way—too alert, too ready to pull back. The howls are still
~ETHAN~ I don't know if it's only at night but this Ridge looks worse. Empty and wrong, too quiet, the wind cutting across the ridge the only sound, colder than it should be, slipping through my jacket and settling deeper the longer I stand here. The post’s barely holding up too, wood worn out, edges rough under my palm, one side creaking every time the wind hits it wrong, a bulb fixed low near the base—dim, flickering like it might give out any second, not doing much anyway cause most of the light comes from the moon, spreading across the ridge in uneven patches and leaving the rest in shadow. Inside the cubicle, there's some water, a chair and a blanket. Only the essentials. I lean against the frame, arms folded, the wood cold even through the fabric, eyes fixed on the stretch ahead, open land, nothing to block the view, nothing to hide behind either. The wind shifts again, carrying dust and something faint under it. I stay still, body too alert, not nerves, just… aware
~NYRA~ “Where is that fucking mutt?!” It doesn’t sound like a voice—it hits, a brutal strike straight to the skull. My step falters, just half a beat, but it’s enough. The Alpha command tears through me, raw and merciless, sinking into bone, demanding obedience before thought can even form. My jaw locks. Behind me, Ethan shifts. He didn’t hear it, but he felt it. Everyone did. The corridor has gone too still, the kind of silence that presses against your ears. Omegas straighten as I pass, eyes dropping instantly, but I catch it—resentment buried under fear. I stop at the office door, my hand hovering for a fraction of a second—not hesitation, calculation—before I knock once and push it open as the door slams against the wall. He’s already on his feet, my uncle doesn’t sit when he’s angry. His presence fills the room before his voice does, thick and suffocating, like the air’s been stripped of oxygen. “Finally.” The word cracks like a whip as his gaze slices past me and lo
~NYRA~ I wake up still. Not burning. Not shaking. Just… still. For a second, I don’t move. I wait for it—for the heat, the pull, that sharp, crawling need to come back and drag me under again. It doesn’t. My breath leaves me slower this time, controlled, and I sit up, testing it. My body answers the way it should—tight, steady, mine. “Goddess,” I exhale and sit up straight, rolling my shoulders once, forcing the stiffness out before it settles, it pulls in places I ignore and move past, the room is empty, no trace of him. Everything else looks normal—and that pisses me off more than it should. I stand, fixing my clothes fast, not stopping, the fabric drags and I shove it off as I reach the door and grab the handle, holding it tight for a second. He’ll say something—throw it in my fucking face, call me pathetic, brag about the favor he did. No. If he wants to stay alive, he’ll keep his mouth shut. Else I’ll make him. I open the door and step into the hallway, f
~NYRA~ “Touch me.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. My chest tightens the second they’re out—sharp, choking— No. It hurts. Not just the heat. Not just this want. It starts lower—tight, coiled—and then it twists. The pain folds in on itself, restless, alive, like something trapped under my skin trying to claw free. Every breath drags it tighter, every shift makes it worse—too much, too raw, too there. My body doesn’t feel like mine. It feels— Wrong. I curl into the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric, trying to ground myself in something—anything—but even that betrays me. The friction sends a shiver up my spine, heat flaring hotter, turning into something unbearable. “Ah—!” My back arches off the bed, fingers clawing into his wrist, knuckles whitening as something twists hard inside me. My thighs press together on instinct, trying—failing—to ease the pressure building under my skin. It only makes it worse. Everything’s too sensitive—too sh
~ETHAN~ Her hands shoot up, clutching my collar. Then her lips crash against mine—hot, sudden and desperate. For a second, I don’t move. My body locks, every instinct misfiring under the sudden heat of her mouth, the way her fingers fist into my collar like she’s holding on to the only solid thing left. She’s burning. I feel it—through fabric, through skin—heat radiating off her in waves that hit me harder than they should. Her grip tightens on my collar, dragging me closer, her mouth pressing harder. My hand shifts—slides up her spine, pulling her in without thinking. And the realization hits like a crack through my bones. What is she doing? What am I doing? This—her kissing— I pull back instantly. Not far—just enough to break it, enough to drag in a breath that still tastes like her. A soft, broken whimper slips from her—low, unguarded— —and it hits me harder than the kiss ever did. It lands somewhere deep, raw, dragging something in my chest tight and wrong. “Nyra.” My







