LOGINNana has always been an outcast in her pack, bullied and left between rejection and acceptance by her cruel Alpha mate because of her father’s betrayal. Lonely and broken, she stumbles upon a cage— Nana accidentally awakens the powerful beast secretly hidden for 25 years_ The Lycan Prince, setting off a chain of deadly events that will change her life forever. Now, she must face the consequences of her actions, caught between a vengeful Alpha and a dangerous creature who sees her as more than just an enemy. Can Nana survive the chaos she has unleashed? Or will her unlucky fate finally catch up with her?
View MoreThe Packhouse is so quiet. Lumina moves through it on bare feet, a small sound in the wide dark. Her hand finds the door to the children’s room without thinking. The moon cuts a pale strip across the floor. Inside, the twins breathe even and slow. The little prince is curled against the side of the crib the way he always curls, thumb at his lip, hair mussed. Lumina's throat is tight.She does not wake them. She leans over the crib and whispers to the girl, “Mummy will be right back. Mummy has to go, but I will come back.” Her voice is low enough that the moon listens and nothing else does. The twin girl shifts, breath soft against the pillow, and Lumina's hand stumbles to her brother. She lifts him carefully, like lifting glass, brings him close to her chest, and the heat of him presses against her body. His heartbeat is small and steady. For a second she lets herself be only that...holding him.Then the anger returns, hot and steady under her ribs. Not at the child, but the world tha
The gravel crunches under their steps before the packhouse. The elders move past Theon without hesitation. At the front, the oldest elder walks with a straight back, one hand resting lightly on his daughter’s arm.Celeste steps precise. Pale cream coat, matching gloves, polished shoes. Hair perfectly in place, smile polite, controlled. Up close, the effort behind it is clear. She is trained, measured, and deliberate. From a distance, she might seem like a visitor. Up close, every motion screams practiced grace.Theon’s office is quiet except for the scratch of his pen. Papers spread across the desk. His fingers tap idly against the wood. The door swings open before anyone knocks. Bernardo steps in. Face tight. Warning enough.“They’re here,” he says.“Who.” The word is clipped.“The oldest elder… and his daughter with the pack members.”Theon freezes. Hand suspended over the desk. Jaw tightens. Then he pushes back the chair and stands. The scrape of legs against the floor is loud in t
The morning air over the packhouse is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth from last night’s drizzle. The guards at the main gate are used to the occasional early visitor—merchants, hunters, messengers from allied packs—but not this.A cluster of women, no more than a dozen at first, are gathered just outside the iron gates. They are not shouting. They are not brandishing weapons. Yet their presence is deliberate, the way a still body of water can hide a dangerous current beneath.They stand in a loose semicircle, wrapped in long coats against the chill, hair pulled back, eyes fixed on the high double doors of the packhouse. At the center is a tall woman in a wine-colored shawl—wife to one of Theon’s most seasoned warriors. Beside her, another carries a neatly folded paper, the edges already creased from being handled over and over.The guards exchange a glance. One clears his throat. “Can I help you, ladies?”The woman in the shawl steps forward, chin lifted. “We ha
As soon as daylight hits the pack house, there is a subtle knock on the door to Theon’s office. like someone who understands protocol and the power of patience.Theon looks up from the stack of reports on his desk. The light from the high windows paints a pale strip across the floor, catches dust, and the room smells faintly of wood and wet earth. Bernardo stands by the window, arms folded, watching the courtyard like he is reading a map in the ground.“Come in,” Theon says. His voice is even. They have taught the pack to answer the Alpha’s call with ease; they have also taught the Alpha to reply with weight.The door opens. The oldest elder steps inside with a slow, measured tread. He bows at the shoulders, a sign of respect the way lip of the moon stains the rim of a bowl. He keeps his hands folded in front, fingers steepled, and he lets his gaze sweep the room before it settles on Theon.“Alpha,” he says, formal, steady. “I hope the morning finds you well.”Theon inclines his head,
The fire crackles low in the corner of the room, casting shadows against the stone walls. Outside, the wind howls as if the night itself knows something is wrong. Inside the room, it's stiflingly warm, yet the small boy lying on the bed trembles like he’s cold. His skin is slick with sweat, strands
Still in the room where the mirror had shattered, it is silent except for the soft scratch of parchment against stone. Dust floats in the golden afternoon light slanting through the arched window, slicing the air like thin blades. Bianca doesn’t notice the chill crawling across her skin. Her finger
The air in NorthHill is thick with tension. A kind of stillness that holds everyone’s breath in place. No one says it aloud, but they all know—something is happening in the East Wing.It’s been building for hours.Lumina feels pain bolts through her waist again, "Arghhh" she screams. Bianca and the
One year has passed since Lumina gave birth to her twins, and the pack has gradually fallen into a season of peace and quiet power. The once restless air now hums with the rhythm of stability… early training drills in the yard, back-to-back council meetings echoing through the west wing, and the so






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