LOGINIn a world where the moon shattered and the strong devoured the weak, Neoma Solstice is nothing. A scentless Null. A ghost. A mistake. Until the day she saves a dying Lycan warrior with a touch, and her secret is revealed: she's Void-Born, the rarest mutation in existence. The same power that makes her invisible makes her invaluable—a living weapon that can cure the incurable Feral Rot plaguing the Lycan Ascendancy. Captured and collared, Neoma is forced to serve as "Tether" to Unit Vanguard: four elite soldiers on the brink of madness. Barzil, the ruthless Commander who sees her as a mission. Wolfy, the cold Tactician who sees her as a puzzle. Viggo, the feral Berserker who sees her as salvation. Guller, the fallen Priest who sees her as redemption. They own her contract. They control her life. They swear she's just a tool. But tools don't make their masters kneel. As Neoma's power grows, so does the threat she poses to the regime that enslaved her. When the prophesied Blood Moon rises, she'll have to choose: remain the Ascendancy's battery, or become the Void that devours them whole. Some bonds are forged in blood. Some in magic. Theirs was forged in desperation—and it might be the only thing strong enough to save a dying world. The Obsidian Covenant is a dark dystopian reverse harem romance featuring a morally gray FMC, four obsessive MLs, found family dynamics, enemies-to-lovers, rejected mate redemption, and a slow-burn that explodes into high heat. Perfect for fans of The Cruel Prince meets Den of Vipers in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. No choosing. No apologies. No mercy.
View MorePOV: ViggoThe scent of another male on his mate was a declaration of war.It is biology. It is the oldest law written in the blood. When a wolf marks a territory, he is saying Keep Out. When a wolf marks a female, he is saying Mine.I was sitting in the common room, spinning the brass gear Neoma had left on the table. Whirrr. Whirrr. The sound was calming. The smell of the room was right—woodsmoke, mint, and the lingering ozone of the Void.Then, the door opened.The smell hit me first.It was thick. Heavy. It tasted of iron filings and burnt charcoal. It clogged my throat.Forge smoke.Neoma walked in. She looked... wrecked. Her hair was messy, tangles of silver wild around her face. Her lips were swollen, red and bitten. Her chest heaved.But it was the smell that made the Red scream. A high-pitched keen in my skull.She was covered in Barzil.His scent was draped over her like a heavy cloak. Suffocating her own smell. It was deep in her pores. It was in her hair. It was a brand, i
POV: BarzilHe had spent a lifetime following rules. He was about to break the biggest one.Protocol 7, Clause 4: Physical intimacy between Command Staff and Assigned Assets is strictly prohibited. Violation results in immediate court-martial and reassignment.The words flashed in my mind like a warning beacon on a HUD. Blinking red. Sensible words. Logical words. Words designed to keep the chain of command intact and the mission clear.But looking down at Neoma, pressed against the training room wall, her chest heaving against mine, her violet eyes dilated with a hunger that matched my own... the words dissolved into static. Bzzzt.Logic didn't live here. Not in this space between breaths. Not in the heat radiating from her skin."Neoma," I whispered again. Testing the weight of her name on my tongue. It tasted like ash and promise.She didn't back down. She didn't look away. Her hands were still gripping my collar. Pulling me down. Anchoring me to her storm."Do it," she dared me. H
POV: NeomaHe was a stone wall. I was a hurricane.In physics, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, energy is released. In the Vanguard training room, it sounded a lot like shouting."No," Barzil said. He didn't even look up from the equipment bench where he was re-wrapping his hand. Zip. Zip."You can't just say 'no'," I argued. Pacing the perimeter of the mat. My nanoweave suit was slick with sweat. My hair plastered to my neck. "Wolfy found a lead on a Silent Howl safehouse in Sector 5. You need a tracker. I'm the best tracker you have.""Wolfy found a potential signal ghost," Barzil corrected. His voice flat and unyielding. Granite. "It could be Kaine baiting a trap. It could be nothing. Either way, Viggo and I will handle it. You remain here.""Grounded?" I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. "Am I back to being a prisoner, Commander? Did the leash get too long?"Barzil stood up. He turned slowly. His massive frame filled the room. The air temperature seemed to rise w
POV: BarzilWork was the only cure for a mind that ate itself.I had seen it in veterans returning from the Borderlands—men who had seen too much death and tried to drown it in silence or liquor. Those men withered. The ones who survived were the ones who picked up a hammer, a shovel, or a rifle and gave their hands something to do.Neoma was withering.Viggo’s softness had stopped the bleeding of her soul, but it hadn't closed the wound. She needed purpose. She needed to remember that she could shape the world, not just endure it."Sector 9 Perimeter," I ordered. Handing her a datapad. "Walk the line. Check the sensor arrays. Log any anomalies."We stood at the base of the Academy’s outer wall—a massive fortification of grey stone and iron rising fifty feet into the smoggy sky. The wind here was biting. Carrying the grit of the distant Wasteland. It scoured my skin.Neoma took the pad. She looked small in her nanoweave suit. The wind whipped her silver hair around her face. "You want






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