Diana This was my parent’s home. They lived here. Loved here. Even though the place has clearly been ransacked—and dust blankets everything like a forgotten shroud, it still feels… warm. Not physically. Not anymore. But in its bones. I move away from the kitchen and walk slowly through the living room, my fingers brushing over the worn edge of a bookshelf. The furniture is elegant and tasteful. A mug sits abandoned on a low table, cracked down the side like it was dropped and forgotten. Dom doesn’t say anything. He hangs back near the door, giving me space. Letting me take this in. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I turn a corner and see the wall. Portraits. Lining a long hallway, framed in wood. Some large, some smaller. They’re arranged chronologically, I think, each with a plaque beneath bearing a name and a title. I step toward the first one. It is a painting. A woman. Her skin is a rich, deep brown—dark as polished mahogany—and her hair i
Diana The trees part slightly. The light shifts. And there it is. Half-hidden beneath a canopy of branches and vines—Twisting arches leaning like tired sentries. A trail, thin and overgrown, but there. Waiting. Breathing. My breath catches. “I see it,” I whisper. “It’s there. Right in front of us.” Dom steps forward again, brows furrowed. He peers into the space I’m staring at, but it’s like his vision skates over it, like his eyes refuse to catch on the truth right in front of him. “I don’t see anything,” he says quietly. “But… I do feel the magic.” I blink in shock. He can’t see it. But I can. I don’t know how I know it’s real—but I do. Like something in my blood hums louder here. Like the place in front of me is whispering my name. I take a step forward. He calls my name. “Diana—wait—” “It’s okay,” I murmur, not looking back. And I walk. The moment I pass through, I feel it—like walking through a curtain of warmth and static. Not heavy. Not cold. Jus
Diana It sounds like a dream. I’m not sexist by any means, but after growing up in the Zervos pack, the idea of a pack where compassion and strength go hand in hand… where feminine energy is respected instead of dismissed? Though- I turn to look at my mate -I think no pack beats the blueprint when it comes to equity and fairness- the Amadeus pack. And I’m grateful to have it. Dom glances at me, a knowing look in his eyes. “You’d like it there,” he says simply. I smile. “Yeah. I think I really would.” It wouldn’t hurt to visit it one day. ——————— We land in Valmere just after sunrise. The wheels touch down with a soft jolt, and the change in pressure pops in my ears as the plane slows down on the runway. I blink awake, stretching muscles and brushing my hair out of my face. Dom’s still beside me, flipping through his notes, one hand curled protectively around my wrist. “You got a few hours in,” he says without looking up, but his voice is soft. “I feel like I coul
Diana “She has to go back,” Dom says quietly. “To her pack. To her mate. We can’t keep her under guard here forever.” I nod slowly, but the unease in my chest doesn’t ease. “But even if we did,” he continues, “what’s stopping the witches from picking someone else?” I blink. “What do you mean?” “They’re watching her,” he says, his tone growing tighter. “Not any of the thirty-six Alphas sitting in that room. Not any of their Betas either. Just her. A pregnant woman. She’s an Alphas daughter yes, but not even his heir. That’s not random.” I swallow. “It’s deliberate?” Dom nods. “I know it is. Which means she’s part of something bigger. Something specific. And if we remove the spell now, we’ll only be warning them that we’re onto them.” I feel my blood go cold. “They’ll adapt,” he says. “Maybe choose someone else for their plan and then we lose sight of them. Or worse, decide to speed up whatever plans they have for her and that could be dangerous.” I stare at him, hea
Diana She sniffles, “Meaner.” “Definitely meaner.” She says, “After what I helped put you through... I deserve it”. I shake my head and don’t comment. I glance at the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep the others waiting too long.” She hesitates, then follows after me, one hand still on her bump. And together, we head for the door. I reach for the handle, when Natasha’s voice stops me. “The way everything happened… it wasn’t right,” she says softly. “And maybe I have no right to say this, especially after everything, but…” She lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “I’m glad you ended up with Alpha Dominicus.” I pause and glance back at her. Her eyes are still a little red, her expression tentative but sincere. “He’s a good man,” she adds quietly. “Stronger. Kinder. And—well—let’s be honest… definitely easier on the eyes than Magnus.” That gets a real smile out of me. I arch a brow, smirking. “I know,” I say simply. “Trust me.” She laughs—a soft, wet sound—and
Diana Natasha doesn’t speak at first. She just stares at me, like she’s trying to find the words—like they’re stuck somewhere deep in her chest. She opens her mouth once, then closes it again. And finally, in a quiet, trembling voice, she says, “I’m sorry.” I say nothing. She swallows hard, then adds, “I mean it, Alpha Diana. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve wanted to say this to you for a long time, but I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance. And even now, I know it won’t be enough. But I have to say it anyway.” Still, I wait. She shifts on her feet. Her hands hover protectively near her belly, then curl into fists. “When my father proposed the alliance to Alpha Magnus… it wasn’t just about our packs. He used the witches as justification, but the real reason…” Her voice breaks slightly. “The real reason was me. I was twenty-six. I hadn’t met my mate. Everyone assumed he was dead. And… I’d always admired Magnus. Since we were kids. I thought maybe… maybe I’d get a life I never tho
Diana They don’t speak — just gather him up with quiet reverence and disappear back through the doors. Someone quickly cleans the floor. Blood disappears, but the thick metallic scent still lingers in the air like a memory we can’t shake off. Lucien stares at the floor for a long time. Then he looks up, face drawn and heavy. “When I got the summons,” he starts, voice quiet, “I couldn’t bring myself to leave my daughter behind. Not with a threat like this out there. What if the witches attacked while I was gone?” He turns to Natasha, his gaze softening. “She’s still two months from her due date. I figured the safest place for her was beside me. And who better to protect her than her father — the Alpha?” A humorless chuckle slips from his mouth. “Everyone was against it. But I insisted.” He looks at Natasha again, his jaw tight. “I’m glad I did. If she’d been back at the pack and I found out there were traitors…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just shakes his head. Natas
Diana When Elder Thomas had pleaded and insisted he’d been forced, I could sense the hypocrisy. The lack of real regret. The selfish core. But this boy — Alpha Lucien throws up his hands, his face twisting with anger and despair. “Then why?!” he shouts. Ned crumples, his shoulders folding inward as he staggers back, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he weeps, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t say it… I’m sorry…” Lucien turns desperately toward Dominicus. “Alpha Dominicus…” he croaks, swallowing hard. But Dominicus doesn’t look at him. His sharp eyes stay on the young man, quiet, thoughtful, deadly calm. Then, softly, he speaks. “Can’t or won’t?” Ned lifts his tear-soaked face, blinking in confusion. “…What?” Dominicus’s voice doesn’t change. “He said he can’t tell us. So, can’t or won’t”. Alpha Lucien throws up his hands in frustration. “What difference does it make?!” Beside Dominicus, Eleanor finally speaks — her voice
Diana I feel the shift in Dominicus beside me — a slow coil of intensity that tells me his patience is wearing thin. Alpha Lucien Silvanus stands tense, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle ticking in his cheek. The only sound is the faint, pitiful shivering of the young Gamma — Ned — who still won’t lift his head. His shoulders quake as though he’s holding in sobs, but no sound escapes him except for the occasional broken whimper. “What the hell does this mean, Ned?!” he roars, his voice crashing through the silence. “Speak up! What have you done?!” I flinch a little at the sheer force of his voice, but the pregnant woman beside him stays steady. Her hand instinctively lifts, resting protectively over her belly — but there’s no fear in her eyes. She stands tall, chin up, no cowering, no panic. That hand on her stomach is a mother’s reflex, nothing more. She turns sharply to the Alpha. “There has to be a misunderstanding,” she says firmly. Her tone is measured, ser