Nana shivers as pain shoots through her body. She’s tired—tired of dealing with Marco’s abuse—but what can she do? He’s her mate, the Alpha of the pack. She’s weak and even worse, she’s the daughter of the man who betrayed the pack.
“Get up and crawl out of my room,” Marco groans in his harsh Alpha voice. He hasn’t accepted her as his mate, but he hasn’t rejected her either. Being stuck in between is worse than either choice. The pain makes her heart feel like it’s being ripped out of her chest. Nana coughs as she tries to get off the bed, blood spilling from her mouth. “Don’t let a drop of that get on my bed or in this room!” Marco yells, kicking her off the bed. The force sends her crashing into the wall on the other side of the room. She whimpers in pain. “Marco, please... just let me go. If you don’t want me, why are you doing this?” She tries to get up, but every action makes her back hurt even more. Her voice breaks. “Let you go? That’s way too easy, Nana. You have to pay for your father's crimes," Marco grinned cruelly. Taking a sip from the tumbler of whiskey he picked up from the table. Marco approaches her, yanks back her head, and clutches her long, dark hair. Her eyes and nose burn as a result of the alcohol he spills all over her face. Breathing hard, Nana chokes while her hands frantically try to clean her face. “Marco, please…” she begs, her voice weak. “You know your job, don’t you? Satisfy me. That’s all you’re here for. But instead, you come to my bed and lie there like a piece of wood!” he shouts, flinging her across the bed. “You’re disgusting. You stink, and you still make things difficult, even in bed!” he yells, taking slow steps toward her. Nana curls up into a ball, trying to protect her stomach and chest. The pain is unbearable, but she’s used to it by now. Inside, her wolf Lana whimpers, just as broken as Nana. Lana is a weak wolf, suffering because Marco hasn’t accepted or rejected them. It’s only a matter of time before Lana disappears completely. And Nana knows that when Lana is gone, she won’t have the strength to keep going either. She waits for the next hit, closing her eyes in fear. Will he kick her again? Throw her against the wall? Nana listens carefully to his footsteps as they get closer. Suddenly, the sound of his phone buzzing breaks the silence. Marco stops and turns around, picking it up from the bed. “Hey, baby,” his voice changes, becoming soft and sweet. He only speaks like that to one person—Melissa. Nana’s heart aches. She wishes, more than anything, that Marco would treat her with even a little of the kindness he shows Melissa. But to him, she’s nothing. Despite the bond they share, she’s just an object to him, something to use when he feels like it. “I’m not busy at all. Even if I was, you’d always come first,” Marco says sweetly into the phone. Nana feels her throat tighten, trying to hold back the tears. She’s his mate, but hearing those words reminds her how little she means to him. “Wait for me at the club lounge. I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” he says, ending the call. He walks back toward Nana, his face cold and angry again. “Get your filthy self out of here before I get changed. If you’re still here when I’m done, I’ll lock you in the bathroom until I get back,” he warns. Nana forces herself to stand, her body aching with every step. She limps out of the room, clutching her chest. She just has to get away, even if every part of her hurts. Seeking a brief respite from the agony and disorder, she staggers outdoors to the rear of the pack house. The guards watch her pass without saying anything, but their eyes are filled with hatred. She is only the daughter of a traitor, and they couldn't care less about her. Nana walks slowly and painfully into the woods. Her jaded nerves are soothed by the silence of the woods surrounding her. Deeper into the woods, she spots a small cave hidden by dense bushes. She limps toward it, her body heavy with exhaustion. The cave is hidden, a small sanctuary where no one will find her. Inside, the air is cool, and the space feels safe, far away from the torment of her life. Nana sinks to the ground, curling up against the cold stone. She hugs her knees to her chest, her whole body shivering. Her eyes well up with tears, but she tries not to cry. She is accustomed to crying by herself, but occasionally the pain is too much to bear. Inside her mind, her wolf Lana whimpers softly. Nana can feel her weakening, fading away. Without the bond being fully accepted, Lana’s strength is slipping. And if Lana disappears, Nana knows she won’t last much longer either. She lets out a sob, her body shaking with the weight of her emotions. How did her life turn into this? A mate who hates her, a pack that looks down on her, and a future that feels empty and dark. Nana feels trapped, stuck in a life she never wanted. All she ever dreamed of was finding her mate, building a bond, and being loved. But now, that dream feels like a cruel joke. In the quiet of the cave, Nana lets herself cry. Nobody is around to witness her suffering or to criticize her for being weak. Now that she is crying openly, the pain in her chest gets worse with each tear. She just stays there, broken and alone, for a long while. Although the woods surrounding her are calm, she is experiencing an internal storm of terror and hurt. She knows there is nowhere for her to go, so all she wants to do is go far away from this life. Not without Lana in tow. Not in the absence of hope. Deep in her thoughts and while crying, a little voice moans from deep inside the cave, it sounds like a little boy.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 healers standing above her.Theon paces outside the room, back and forth, jaw clenched tight. His shirt is soaked from the storm that hit earlier, but he hasn’t noticed. Every time someone opens the door, his head snaps toward it like a loaded weapon.Bianca steps out at last, shutting the door gently behind her.“She’s in active labor,” she says. “The first pup is crowning.”Theon doesn’t move for a beat.Then he says, “And she?”“She’s strong,” Bianca says. “Focused. No signs of complications yet.”Yet.The word lands like a hammer in his chest.He nods, stepping back as Bianca goes in again. The door closes.He breathes once. Then again.Inside, the room is quiet except for the sounds of
Months have gone by, and Lumina’s pregnancy has shifted from wonder to routine. Her scent fills every corridor of the NorthHill packhouse, soft and thick, a blend of ancient magic and motherhood. But while the attention remains mostly on the Luna, and her unborn twins, something else has been quietly unfolding beneath the surface.In the late hours of the afternoon, Theon is seated in his study, a file open in front of him but barely read. His mind is already elsewhere when a knock lands on the door. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just firm enough.“Come in,” Theon says.Bernardo steps inside. His posture is stiff, but not with fear. More like someone bracing for something heavy. Behind him, the door closes gently, shutting out the hallway noise. Theon watches him closely.“Alpha,” Bernardo says, bowing his head.“You don’t need formalities,” Theon replies. “Speak.”Bernardo clears his throat, then glances back toward the door as if to make sure no one is listening. “There’s something I’ve
The black car rolls to a stop just past PhantomMoon’s border, quiet under the orange spread of dusk. Lumina steps out first, brushing her palm against the fabric of her dress. It’s simple—soft blue, high collar, loose around the stomach. She’s pregnant, and it shows, though just slightly. Her presence, though, speaks louder than her bump.Two NorthHill guards flank her, one tall and silent, the other a few years younger but alert. They say nothing as she steps forward alone, her hands at her sides, her posture calm.“I won’t be long,” she tells them without looking back. “Stay with the car. Don’t enter the compound.”They hesitate. The older one nods eventually. “Yes, Luna.”She walks ahead, steps slow, her pulse steady. PhantomMoon Pack is smaller, more compact, surrounded by clustered trees and clean brick. It’s not home, but it once felt like peace.The moment she passes the gates, heads turn. Wolves lounging near the patrol shed rise to their feet. No one stops her. They’ve heard
She leans closer, eyes dropping slightly.“You know.”He stares at her.She grins. “Sex. It’s ridiculous. I woke up needing it. I nap and dream about it. I walk past you and practically combust.”“Okay. That’s graphic.”“It’s true.”He raises a brow. “You’re sure it’s safe?”“Yes,” she says. “They get calmer after. I swear.”“That’s… deeply weird.”She nudges him. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. I basically try to climb you every time you sit too long.”“I thought you were cuddly.”“I was starving.”He smiles at her. She rests her head on his shoulder.“You’re glowing,” he says after a moment.“I’m bloated.”“You’re beautiful.”She closes her eyes, letting herself lean into him. Their breathing syncs.Then she pulls back.Her hand finds his. “Do you think they’ll be like you?”“I hope they have your strength,” he says. “Your calm.”She lifts a brow. “Calm?”He nods. “There’s something… different about how you carry them. You’re not afraid. Not even a little.”“I was afraid. That f
A few weeks later***The night air is thick with anticipation.The courtyard of the NorthHill packhouse is lit with dozens of floating lanterns, glowing softly against the deep velvet sky. The full moon hangs low above the gathering like a silent witness, silver and round, casting its light over everyone below.Warriors line the outer perimeter. Elders sit to the right. Nana stands near the altar, hands clasped, her head bowed. There’s a subtle hum of magic in the air—gentle, protective, ancient. It pulses faintly beneath the ground.Theon stands at the top of the stone steps, dressed in ceremonial black, trimmed with silver. A cape falls from his shoulders, clasped at the neck with the insignia of NorthHill. His expression is unreadable. Steady. But his eyes keep scanning the crowd, searching for her.And then she appears.Lumina walks into the courtyard slowly, dressed in ivory silk, the fabric flowing like water around her legs. Her silver hair is woven up, braided and crowned w
Months passed peacefully in NorthHill. The pack bloomed. Smiles returned to the faces of its members again. Children returned to playing in the courtyards. Warriors trained without the fear of undead claws looming over them. And though many still mourned — those who’d lost siblings, parents, mates — they did so with a strange kind of peace. A peace that came with knowing they’d fought darkness and lived to see morning.Theon is still in the war room when the gate alarm rings once… then again.Low. Short bursts.A warning signal.He doesn’t lift his head immediately. Just stares at the map, his mind already calculating.One of the guards bursts in, chest heaving like he ran the whole stretch of the eastern wing.“Alpha,” the guard pants, eyes flicking between Theon and Bernardo. “There’s a visitor… from PhantomMoon.”Bernardo’s brows lift. “PhantomMoon? Now?”Theon finally looks up. “Who?”The guard shifts uneasily. “Alpha Orion.”The name drops like a slab of stone in still water. The