Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, her back against the heavy, fortified wall of the secret chamber. “Will Papa really come back soon?” Habibah whispered for what felt like the tenth time, her voice barely a breath.Elizabeth gave a small, reassuring nod. “Your father said to stay put. He’ll come for us when it’s safe. We just have to trust him.”Habibah bit her lip, glancing nervously at the heavy steel door that kept them hidden from the chaos outside. The chamber had been built centuries ago as a refuge, and it was nearly impenetrable, soundproof, and sealed tight. Until—A sound broke the heavy silence — the soft, unmistakable creak of footsteps approaching.Elizabeth stiffened immediately. She pressed her hand gently to Habibah’s arm, signaling her to stay silent. Both of them leaned in, hearts pounding so hard it was almost deafening in their own ears.The door handle shifted, moving slightly.Habibah's breathing quickened, and Elizabeth gripped her hand tightl
The damp chill of the underground cell gnawed through Elizabeth’s thin, torn tunic, and the stench of mold and decay lingered in the air like a curse that refused to be lifted.Chains rattled faintly with her every movement, and little Habibah lay curled in her mother’s lap, her breath warm against Elizabeth’s bruised skin. Elizabeth’s fingers ran slowly through her daughter’s tangled curls, each strand a small comfort against the storm of fear in her chest. For a brief, aching moment, there was silence. Suddenly, the silence broke. The sound of heavy boots echoed down the corridor—slow, deliberate, merciless. Elizabeth stiffened, her hand tightening around Habibah. The child whimpered.A cruel laugh drifted through the air, low and mocking, bouncing off the cold walls like a specter.“No,” Elizabeth whispered, eyes lifting toward the cell bars. “Please, not again.”The shadows moved, shaped themselves into a familiar figure. A woman stepped into the dim torchlight, flanked by three
“Arya…” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, quiet but clear, halting Arya’s retreat.Arya stilled, her hand on the door’s iron handle. “What?”Elizabeth swallowed hard, her voice cracking beneath the weight of pain and disbelief. “Why?”Arya paused mid-step. Her fingers curled around the keys at her hip. She did not turn.“Why what?” Arya asked, her voice smooth and clipped, though it carried an edge.“Why go to such desperate measures to get rid of us?” Elizabeth’s voice trembled with hurt and confusion. “Do you hate us that much? Why pretend? Why go so far? Was all of it a lie?”Arya stood still, her back to the bars. For a moment, Elizabeth thought she might walk away, might ignore the question entirely. But then Arya turned slowly, her brown eyes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight.There was a sneer on her face, cruel and cold, but beneath it, Elizabeth saw something else—bitterness, long-nurtured pain, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.“You really want to know?” Arya aske
The cell door creaked open with a groan that echoed through the narrow corridor, the iron hinges protesting the movement. Arya stepped out, her heeled boots clicking sharply against the damp stone floor. Her posture was elegant, commanding—her chin tilted ever so slightly upwards in that familiar way that made her seem like royalty in a place that reeked of rot and fear.She turned to the guards, her lips curling into a tight smile.“Lock the cell,” she ordered coolly without glancing back. “I don’t want any accidents.”The guards nodded silently and pushed the thick iron door shut with a deep metallic clang. One of them turned the key with a rough twist, and the deadbolt snapped into place with finality. Arya stood still for a moment, watching them with feigned patience, her hands clasped lightly behind her back.“The trial is scheduled, correct?” Arya asked in a silk-smooth tone, as if she were inquiring about afternoon tea, not the brutal torment of another living being.“Yes, my
The cell was always cold.No matter how long Elizabeth stayed there—days, weeks, years perhaps—her bones never grew used to the damp chill that seemed to cling to her skin like a second layer. The air was thick with mildew and rot, and the stone walls wept with condensation. The silence, when it fell, was almost worse than the screams that came before.She heard the iron door screech open again, and her blood ran colder.“No,” she whispered, her body trembling already from the day before. “Please—please not again.”Heavy boots approached. A gloved hand reached down and grabbed her by the arm—an arm so bruised and battered it barely felt like her own anymore—and dragged her out. She cried out as her knees scraped the rough stone floor.The guards always ignored her pleas.Elizabeth was hauled into the chamber again—the room that smelled of blood, fire, and wet leather. Chains hung from the ceiling like spiders waiting to pounce. A rusted grate in the floor whispered of what had already
Elizabeth’s breath came in shallow gasps, her body slack against the cruel embrace of the experimental chair. Straps bit into her raw skin, long since chafed and torn, yet she no longer felt the pain. Her nerves had dulled, her senses numbed. She was more spirit than flesh now, drifting between worlds, untethered.Her head lolled to one side, dark strands of matted hair clinging to her sweat-soaked skin. Her once vibrant eyes, those fiery defiant eyes that had once shown with life and love, now stared at the ceiling—glassy, distant, the fight flickering out like the last glow of an oil lamp. There was no screaming anymore, no struggling. They had taken everything from her—her strength, her dignity, her voice.Yet within the silence, her mind slipped somewhere far from the sterile hell around her.She was eight again.The scent of wildflowers filled her nose, and golden sunlight poured through the trees of the glen behind her childhood home. Her mother laughed—a light, airy sound that
The first thing Daniella remembered was warmth.After weeks—perhaps months, she couldn’t be sure—of cold stone, rough rope, hunger, and fear so constant it felt like a part of her skin, the heat of the blanket around her was a shock. Her eyelids fluttered as light seeped through, soft and golden, nothing like the oppressive dimness of the place she’d been held. For a moment, she didn’t move. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, the illusion would shatter and she would find herself back in that place again, chained to fear.But then came the sound of gentle voices—real voices, not threats or barked orders. The lilt of care, the rhythm of kindness. And something else… laughter. Childish, light, and echoing through walls that didn’t drip with damp or desperation.Daniella's eyes snapped open.She sat up too quickly, and her ribs protested with a sharp ache. The pain was grounding, almost reassuring. She was real. Alive.The room was simple, but clean and cozy. Pale cream walls, a
FIVE YEARS AFTER HIS LOSSAlpha Czar stood at the edge of the valley with his hands clasped behind his back. The scent of pine and frost filled his lungs, but it brought no comfort—not tonight. Not after all this time.He had come here on the same night every year for the past five years. A ritual of sorts. A silent vigil in the hope that the wind would change, that the earth would stir and return what had been stolen from him.His mate. His daughter.The memory still struck him with sharp, unforgiving clarity. One moment he had held her in his arms, his tiny daughter wrapped in her mother’s scent, warm and cooing softly against his chest. The next, there had been chaos—blood everywhere, screams in the darkness, and an aching silence that had never truly left him.He had searched every region, crossed every territory, called in every favour he was owed. Elders, seers, witches—he had begged them all. But each trail ran cold. And now… he was done.“I can’t do this anymore,” Czar murmure
The wedding had concluded hours ago—glorious, heart-swelling, and perfect in every way. The garden had slowly emptied as the guests, pack leaders, and visiting dignitaries took their leave, returning to their assigned quarters in the expansive estate.Laughter still echoed faintly in the distance, mingling with the crackle of torches and the gentle rustle of evening wind. But not all was tranquil.Alpha Renwick, lingered in the west wing where the Garvalles had been quartered. With an almost careless charm, he leaned against the open doorway of Mrs. Garvalle’s room."You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you," Renwick said smoothly, his voice low and suggestive.Mrs. Garvalle arched a brow at him but did not turn him away. "You’re still terrible at lying, Renwick," she said with a small, amused smile. “But I’ll accept the compliment. It’s been a long day. Shouldn’t you be on your way?”“Perhaps,” he replied, a hint of mischief in his smile. “But your company is far more refreshing t
Mrs. Garvalle turned to Liam, placing a firm but elegant hand on his forearm. Her voice was clipped, refined with years of social grace, but it left little room for debate.“Liam, it’s time,” she said, eyes flitting across the lavish ballroom toward the dais where Daniella and Dalton stood surrounded by well-wishers. “We should go and present our gift now.”Liam exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as he followed her gaze. There they were — Daniella and Dalton — standing side by side beneath the soft golden lights, their heads bent close as they laughed quietly at something shared between them. The sight of Daniella smiling like that, not at him but at another man, twisted something low in his chest.His hands, buried in the pockets of his tailored coat, clenched into fists.He turned his eyes away, unwilling to let his expression betray the turmoil roiling inside him. “No,” he muttered finally, voice low and gravelled.Mrs. Garvalle turned to him, bro
Once adorned with steaming platters and fresh-baked bread, the long table now lay scattered with used linen napkins and half-full wine glasses. At the head of the hall, Daniella sat with Sophie nestled at her side, the child still clutching the handmade cloth doll Grace had given her during dinner. Sophie’s cheeks were rosy from all the affection and attention, but her eyes darted occasionally toward the door, as if still fearing this was all a fragile dream that might vanish.Dalton, seated next to Daniella, reached under the table and gently squeezed her hand. She turned to look at him, her smile weary but grateful. Then the sound of a wooden staff striking the ground once, then twice, reverberated through the hall. All eyes turned toward the ceremonial steward standing near the hearth.“May I have your attention?” the steward declared in a deep, commanding voice. "Tonight, we don’t only celebrate a reunion, or even survival. We celebrate love, loyalty, and the unwavering ties of b
Liam stood rooted to the ground, the smile he’d worn moments ago stretched tightly across his face like a mask too brittle to hold. Daniella’s retreating figure moved with quiet resolve, her back straight, her shoulders squared against the world. She didn’t glance back—not once. That alone gutted him more than anything else.He swallowed hard, something bitter clinging to the back of his throat. It felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and thrown into the wind, left to scatter in pieces he’d never gather again. The ache in his chest wasn’t sudden—it had been there for a while now, like an infection he’d ignored until it became impossible to ignore. But now, watching her walk away with that same quiet strength that once kept him afloat, Liam realized the finality of it. She was no longer his. Maybe she never had been.He blinked fast, furious even at himself, when he felt his vision blur. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t the kind of man who cried. He’d trained his whole life
A waiter handed Grace and Daniella a flute of sparkling wine. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much. Careful now. Your face might just get stuck like that.” Daniella let out a soft laugh, her eyes fixed on the dance floor where Dalton twirled Sophie around like she was made of air and starlight. The little girl’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained, her hands clasped tightly around Dalton’s as he spun her again.“Look at them,” Daniella whispered, her voice barely audible above the music. “He adores her.”Grace followed her gaze and smiled. “And she adores him right back. She hasn’t stopped laughing all evening.”A soft warmth bloomed in Daniella’s chest, almost too much to bear. Her heart swelled as she watched her daughter shriek with joy, her little shoes tapping against the polished wood as Dalton guided her gently, protectively, like she was the most precious thing in the world.A perfect moment.And yet…For the briefest flicker of a second, a shadow moved acros
It was already past noon when the wedding ceremony ended, and it was time for the reception. The garden outside shimmered under a thousand golden fairy lights, casting a warm, dreamlike glow over the venue. Music floated through the air, soft and romantic. Laughter rippled among the tables, clinking glasses, and heartfelt banter among the guests.At the heart of it all stood Dalton, tall and regal in a dark tailored suit that made his eyes gleam. Beside him, Daniella, radiant in another gown she changed for the reception. The gown was made of moonlight lace and soft pearl, and her hair was adorned with tiny blossoms. She smiled with trembling lips as the band shifted melodies."Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee announced with so much enthusiasm, "please turn your attention to the floor for the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife."Applause erupted as Dalton stepped forward and extended his hand to Daniella, bowing slightly. She placed her hand in his, her touch feather-li
WEDDING DAYThe sun rose that morning with a golden brilliance, casting its warmth over the Garvalle estate and bathing everything in a honeyed glow. There was a pulse in the air—a quiet buzz of anticipation that seemed to stretch into the trees, shake the birds from their nests, and awaken every wolf in the pack with a shared thought:Today was the day Daniella and Dalton were getting married.The pack had begun preparing days ago, but this morning, everything snapped into focus. The pack house, usually a center of training and council, had been transformed overnight into something magical. Banners in silver and deep forest green—the Hollow pack colors—fluttered gently in the breeze. Strings of delicate fairy lights were wrapped around the towering pine columns that lined the courtyard, and clusters of white roses were being fastened to every banister, doorframe, and post with painstaking care.In the great hall, pack members bustled with purpose, laughter echoing off the walls as fi
A DAY BEFORE THE WEDDINGThe grand hall of the Pack's estate buzzed with anticipation. Sunlight streamed through the towering stained-glass windows, casting vibrant mosaics of gold, crimson, and indigo across the polished marble floor. The scent of lavender and pine—blended with the faintest trace of ceremonial incense—drifted through the air, adding a sacred hush to the magnificence of the space.At the arched entrance beneath the crest of the Crescent Moon, Alpha Reid stood tall in a dark, ceremonial coat lined with silver embroidery. Beside him, Luna Maeve wore a flowing gown of midnight blue, the fabric catching the light like liquid stars. Her long auburn hair was pinned back with silver combs shaped like crescent moons, echoing the pack’s symbol and legacy.Reid adjusted the cuff of his jacket, casting a sweeping glance across the ballroom. His normally impassive face showed a rare flicker of uncertainty.“They’re all coming,” he said, his voice low but edged with tension. “Alph
PRESENT TIME (SOPHIE AND DANIELLA)Life didn’t snap back to normal the moment they walked through the front door, but little by little, Sophie and Daniella found their rhythm again.The mornings, once quiet and still, began with the familiar hum of the kettle and the comforting scent of chamomile and cinnamon. Daniella would wake before Sophie, padding through the house in her slippers, letting the silence settle around her. It helped her breathe—helped her remind herself that they were safe now.Sophie, once hesitant to leave her mother’s side even for a minute, slowly began venturing back into her own room, her laughter gradually returning. At first, she trailed behind Daniella like a shadow—silent, watchful—but eventually, she returned to her books, her sketches, the odd habit of humming while brushing her hair.They kept things simple in those first few weeks. Grocery runs were done together, hand in hand. They cooked meals with music playing in the background—sometimes jazz, some