LOGINBorgov's POV
Days turned into weeks, and weeks rolled into months.We kept pushing forward. The transport business had no idea of our inner emptiness. The trucks had to be filled and the goods delivered. Customers expected smiles, too.
So, we moved and smiled.
But when night fell, we sat in silence. Emilio with his chair, me on the floor, the fire flickering low. We didn’t talk about it. The knife. The blood. Aldric’s expression when
Selena's POVThe room is thick with tension as we gather around the small table in Mary's quarters. The phone sits in the center, black and ordinary, yet it might as well be a live grenade for all the danger it represents.Damian stands by the door, his arms crossed, his face carved from stone. Greta sits beside Mary, her weathered hand resting on the maid's trembling fingers. I pace near the window, my heart pounding against my ribs.We've spent the morning coaching Mary. What to say. How to say it. The right balance of fear and desperation to convince the Collector that she's on the verge of breaking. We rehearsed the script a dozen times until the words felt natural on her tongue. She was ready.But now, looking at her face—pale, haunted, her eyes red from tears she hasn't shed yet—I realize that none of this is an act. Mary isn't playing a role. She's living a nightmare, and we're asking her to dive deeper into it."Re
Sera's POVI wake slowly, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains in soft golden streams. For a long moment, I simply lie still, letting consciousness wash over me like a gentle tide. Gracia's side of the bed is empty, the sheets cool. He must be in a meeting, discussing pack business, carrying the weight of Ironhold on those broad shoulders of his. But even in his absence, I feel his love like a warm cloak wrapped around me.I feel stronger than I have in months. Stronger than I have in years, perhaps. The constant ache in my bones has faded to a dull whisper.My lungs draw breath without protest. My mind feels clear, unclouded by the fog that has haunted me for so long. I don't understand it—this sudden return of vitality—but I am grateful. So deeply, profoundly grateful.I reach for the photograph on the nightstand. Sela and Tristan, their faces bright with youth and promise. My children. My reasons for fighting thr
Selena's POVThe journey back to Ironhold is silent, our footsteps muffled by the forest floor, our hearts still racing from what we witnessed at the mill. Damian walks close beside me, his hand occasionally brushing mine, grounding us both in the reality of what we just survived.We slip through the gate just before the first hints of dawn touch the horizon. The pack house is quiet, the corridors empty, and we move like shadows toward our chamber. But as we round the final corner, a figure steps out of the darkness, and my heart nearly stops.Gracia.His arms are crossed, his expression a mix of relief and stern concern. "Where have you been?" he demands, his voice low but sharp. "I've been searching for you both. Guards said you left hours ago."Panic flares in my chest. I open my mouth, but no words come. Damian steps forward, his voice steady despite everything. "We went for a drive and walk. Fresh air. Some quiet time away from the children and the healers."Gracia studies us for
Damian's POVThe afternoon light is soft through the windows, but I can't enjoy it. I'm stretched out on the couch, my head resting against the armrest, my body tense despite the warmth surrounding me. Selena is completely draped over me—her stomach pressed to mine, her chest against my chest, her legs tangled with my legs. One of my hands grips her hip possessively, the other cradles the back of her head, my fingers threading through her hair. She's cupping my face in both hands, her thumbs tracing my cheekbones, and she's been kissing me for the past ten minutes without stopping.Not frantic kisses. Not desperate ones. These are slow, deep, searching kisses—like she's trying to memorize the taste of me.She hasn't said a word. She won't let me speak either. Every time I try to pull back, she follows, her mouth capturing mine again, her body pressing closer, as if she could fuse us together.By the edge of the couch, the twins a
Walter's POVThe moon hangs low over Ironhold, casting long shadows across my chamber. I stand by the window, naked, the cool night air kissing my skin. Behind me, Aria sleeps peacefully, She must be dreaming of a future that will never exist.‘Fool.’My phone buzzes again in my hand. I answer without speaking."The shipment is ready," the voice on the other end says. Low, gruff, one of my many shadows. "Twelve units. Prime quality. The buyers in the Antipodean territories are waiting.""And the timing?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper."Three days. The eastern pass. Our people will handle the transfer.""Ensure the brands are fresh," I tell him. "The buyers will want proof of origin.""It's already done.""Good. Contact me when it's complete."I end the call and delete the log. The phone goes into the hidden drawer beneath the floorboards, alongside the other burners, the forged documents, the evidence that will soon destroy Gracia.I turn from the window and look at Aria. Still sle
Walter's POVThe room is dark, lit only by a single lamp on the nightstand, its flickering with each of my thrusts.Aria is beneath me, her dark hair spread across my pillow, her fingers clawing at my shoulders. She moans my name, her voice breathless and broken, and I reward her with more force, more speed, driving into her with a brutality that makes the headboard slam against the stone wall."Walter… slow down… please…" she gasps, her nails digging into my back.I don't slow down. I go faster. Harder. Her pleas are nothing to me, background noise, the meaningless squeaks of a toy I use and discard. I close my eyes and let my mind drift to where it always drifts during these encounters. White hair. Silver in moonlight. Eyes the color of a winter sky. Sera. My Sera. The woman who should have been mine. The woman who will be mine.I bury my face in Aria's neck, my lips moving against her skin. "Sera," I whisper, "
I wake up to sunlight and the smell of something cooking.For a second, I forget where I am. Think I'm back home, in my tiny room, with Dad making breakfast downstairs. Then I see the white walls, the unfamiliar ceiling, the fireplace with cold ash in it.Right. Silvermoon. Damian's house. Not dead
I can't breathe.Caden stands in the middle of Damian's front yard like he owns it, he does owns everything. His dark hair catches the morning light. His ice-blue eyes sweep over the Silvermoon pack members with that look I know too well—the one that says *you're beneath me* without him having to o
I wake up in a bed that's not mine.That's my first thought. Before I open my eyes, before I remember anything—just that the sheets smell different. Like pine and something else. Something clean and sharp.Then everything comes rushing back. The rejection. The run. The rain. The wolves.I sit up so
My hands won't stop shaking.I press them flat against my thighs, but the tremors just move up my arms. The white dress my mom wore thirty years ago feels too tight around my ribs, or maybe that's just my lungs forgetting how to work."You'll ruin it." My dad's voice comes from behind me. Soft. Car







