LOGINJasmina Lesvendstrong's coronation dream shatters when Alpha Damoew Herstrong publicly rejects her, choosing her best friend Arlene as Luna instead. Pregnant and accused of murder when Damoew is found dead, Jasmina faces execution in fourteen days. But Damoew isn't dead—he's under a spell. Arlene isn't who she claims. She's the Witch Queen's daughter, orchestrating revenge that will destroy every werewolf bloodline through the ancient Lycan Vault. With Damoew's supposedly dead mother and a rebellious guard as allies, Jasmina must save her baby, expose Arlene's genocide plan, and break the compulsion magic controlling her mate. The vault demands blood. The spell demands sacrifice. And Jasmina must decide: save the Alpha who rejected her, or let him burn. But letting him burn means killing all werewolves. Meaning no more histories (stories) of werewolves. So come with me let’s help Jasmina make a right choice.’
View More"I, Damoew Herstrong, Alpha of the Strong Black Clan, reject you as my mate and Luna."
Jasmina heard the words but couldn't process them. She stood at the edge of the coronation platform, watching Damoew pull Arlene Swinkstrong into a kiss that made the entire hall go silent. Arlene's fingers tangled in his hair. Her body pressed against his like she belonged there. The mate bond tore. Jasmina felt it rip through her chest, a physical wound that no one else could see. Her wolf screamed inside her, clawing to get out, to fight, to make him remember what they were supposed to be. But Damoew didn't even look at her. "This woman," he announced, his arm around Arlene's waist, "is stronger, smarter, and more worthy of leading beside me. Jasmina Lesvendstrong is weak. She's always been weak." The crowd erupted. Elders shouted in protests. Pack members who'd known Jasmina since childhood stared in shock. Hardy Armstrong, the oldest elder, stepped forward with his staff raised. "Alpha, this violates sacred law! The mate bond cannot be…" "I am the law," Damoew cut him off. His eyes flashed gold. "Anyone who questions me can join Jasmina in exile." Hardy's mouth snapped shut. Jasmina's hands shook. Since two months, she had kept the secret, waiting for the right moment, waiting for today when everything was supposed to be perfect. She'd imagined telling him after the coronation, watching his face light up when she showed him the healer's confirmation. With all the pains and ache, she managed and slowly stepped forward. "I'm pregnant." Jasmina yelled. The hall went dead quiet. Damoew's face twisted with shock. Then it turns to rage. "You think a bastard child will change anything?" He stalked toward her, and Jasmina's wolf whimpered. Her mate had never looked at her like this—like she was prey. "That thing dies the moment it's born. I want it dead before it takes its first breath." Jasmina stumbled backward. "It's your heir. Your…" "It's nothing." Damoew turned to the guards stationed at the platform's edge. "Theo Walstrong. Take her to the servants' quarters. Starting tomorrow, Jasmina Lesvendstrong works for this pack like any other omega. She cleans, she serves, and she keeps her mouth shut." Theo, barely twenty years old, looked between them with wide eyes. "Alpha, she's…" "Did I stutter?" Theo grabbed Jasmina's arm. His grip was gentle, but it didn't matter. The crowd parted as he led her away, their faces filled with pity. Arlene's laughter followed her all the way down the hall. With her saying’’’ “Does she think she will be coronated.” And her laughter echoed out. “I’m the rightful person to be crowned as the Luna, and my lover her…. The Alpha.” Jasmina stopped listening and told the guard to help her move faster. The servants' quarters smelled like mildew. Theo brought her to a small room at the end of the corridor—barely large enough for a cot and a wooden chest. There was no window, not even a single candle on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, then left before she could respond. Jasmina sat on the cot. The thin mattress offered no comfort. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling the slight curve that nobody else had noticed yet. Two months along. The healer had confirmed it, he had also promised to keep the secret until Jasmina was ready to tell Damoew. She'd wanted it to be special. She wanted to see him smile the way he used to when they were younger, before he became Alpha, before everything changed. And now, he wanted their child dead. The door opened again hours later. An older woman with graying hair entered, carrying folded uniforms. "You start tomorrow," the woman said, dropping the clothes on the chest. "Kitchen duty first. You'll scrub pots until your hands bleed, then you'll move to the laundry. Meals are twice a day in the servants' hall. You eat what we eat, no special treatment." "I understand," Jasmina said. The woman studied her. "You really kill someone to get the Alpha's attention?" "What?" "That's what they're saying. That you were so desperate to be Luna, you tried dark magic. That you put a curse on that Arlene girl." The woman shook her head. "But it didn’t work, clearly." Jasmina wanted to scream that it was a lie, that she'd never touched dark magic, that Arlene had stolen everything from her. But the woman was already leaving. She lay down on the cot, staring at the ceiling. And for some reasons she doesn’t understand, the mate bond was gone. She could feel the emptiness where it used to live, a hollow space in her chest that ached worse than any injury. Damoew had severed it completely, but the pain and agony was supposed to last till two full nights but it was gone beginning the first night. Well, Jasmina appreciated it. Because now, there was no going back from that. She just have to think about her baby. She'd figure out how to protect it. How to survive long enough to make sure her child had a chance at life, even if she didn't. Jasmina lay awake through the night, listening to footsteps in the corridor, voices murmuring behind closed doors, the distant sound of Arlene's laughter echoing from the main hall where the coronation celebration continued without her. When dawn finally broke, thin light seeping under the door, Jasmina stood and tied her hair back with a strip of cloth. She was a servant now. A disgraced and rejected omega now, carrying a child marked for death. But she wasn't dead yet right? Neither was her baby. That would have to be enough, because the Moon Goddess just gave her enough time to figure her life.Sable had not been frightened by anything Kira did until the third week of the eleventh month.She'd been surprised repeatedly. She'd been forced to rethink her framework twice. She'd documented things she had no precedent for and had been honest with Jasmina about every one of them. But she'd been consistent in her position that Kira's development, however unusual its pace, was developing well—in the right directions, with appropriate integration between the magic and the cognition, without the signs of strain or fracture that indicated a child was being overwhelmed by what they carried.She came to Jasmina's office on a Thursday morning and closed the door behind her, which she'd never done before in all the months of working together. She sat down and said she needed to tell her something and that she wanted to say it without either of them reacting immediately, because the reaction was going to matter and she wanted it to be a considered one.Jasmina said she was listening.What
The council filing for the Greywood boundary review went in on a Thursday, co-sponsored by Eastern Vale, Mountain Ridge, and Northern Frost, and framed, in the exact language Elara had spent three days working on, as a motion to address a longstanding administrative failure in the council's post-conflict settlement procedures, with specific reference to the nineteen-year pending status of the Ashpen dissolution review.She'd sent a copy to Reza the day before it went in, through Dax, not to ask permission but to inform him before he saw it through Collective channels, because a man who was quietly rethinking his position deserved not to be surprised by the moves she was making. He'd sent back a single line acknowledging receipt and nothing else, which she took as neither approval nor objection, just noting.The council acknowledged the filing within three days and assigned it a review date eleven weeks out, which was faster than average and she thought Vincent's co-sponsorship had som
Stefan found it in twelve days. He came in without the report folder again, which she was beginning to understand meant the thing he was about to tell her had a shape that didn't fit neatly into documented evidence, at least not yet, and that he was going to tell her first and build the documentation after because the twelve-day timeline had produced something he didn't want to hold onto until the paper was ready.He sat down and said the specific dispute Aldric was positioning for was about the Greywood territories.She knew the Greywood territories. Everyone knew the Greywood territories in the way everyone knew old wounds, which was to say the history was referenced constantly and understood incompletely. The Greywood territories were a stretch of land in the deep north, historically contested, that the Grand Council had formally partitioned sixty years ago between three packs as part of a post-conflict settlement that had stopped an inter-pack war from consuming the whole northern
The message from Reza came through Dax, which surprised her until she understood why. Dax mentioned it at the end of a logistics briefing, almost as an afterthought, the way he flagged things he wasn't certain were relevant but thought she should hear anyway. He said he'd received a private communication from an Alpha named Reza, from a pack in the Eastern Collective, and that Reza hadn't reached out to Strong Black directly because he apparently had some concern about whether direct communication with Jasmina would be noticed by other Collective members before he was ready for it to be noticed. He'd reached Dax through what Dax described as a contact in the inter-pack courier network that had nothing to do with either of their official channels, which told her something about how carefully Reza was managing his footprint. Stefan was in the room. She watched him register the name. Reza was the Alpha with a hundred and twenty warriors, the one Stefan's contacts had described as a
Ord called on a Wednesday. Not his Beta, not an intermediary. Ord himself, direct line, which meant he'd either done his research and found the Alpha Supreme's administrative channel or someone had given it to him. From the way Vincent had been working the situation, she suspected the latter.He i
Doyle of Ashfield reached out on a Thursday.Not directly—through his Beta, a woman named Ola who called the Strong Black Clan administrative line and asked to speak to whoever handled alliance communications. Jetstar took the call, listened to what Ola said, and came to Jasmina's office with the s
Week twelve. Day eighty-four of exile. Damoew packed his few belongings. A worn bag. Change of clothes. Nothing else. He'd arrived with nothing. Leaving with almost the same.But different inside. Changed. Hopefully better.Dax found him at his tent. "Today's the day.""Today's the day.""You earne
Damoew's ninth week in exile brought change.Marcus—Kira's father—started sitting with him at meals. Not friendly exactly. But civil. Present.Oliver talked to him freely now. Asked questions about Alpha training. About leadership. About how to rebuild after mistakes.A












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