Mag-log inGreta's POVThe night is chilly. Moonlight streams through the curtains—thin and silver—collecting on the large bed where Lily sleeps. Her dark hair sprawls across the pillow, her lips parted, and her small hands curled into little fists. She looks so peaceful. So innocent. She has no idea about the darkness lurking just beyond the shadows.I’m standing by the window, arms crossed, staring into space.‘What’s happening to Sera?’I’ve seen sickness before. I’ve seen injuries that should have taken lives, curses that should have remained, poisons that should have eaten away at organs like acid. I’ve witnessed the worst the world has to throw at us. But this… this is something else entirely.A body that won’t heal. Not just from ordinary wounds—but not even from the most powerful healing gift I’ve ever seen. Selena’s gift is stronger than any I’ve
Selena's POVThe room is filled with the smell of sickness and herbs.It’s not that sharp, clean scent of a fresh wound or the sour tang of an infection. No, it’s something deeper, something older. It’s the odor of a body that seems to have forgotten how to live but just won’t let go.I stand next to Sera’s bed, my hands clasped in front of me, letting the silence linger. Gracia is near the headboard, gripping the carved wood so tightly his knuckles are white. By the window stands Tristan, with his wife Basilia beside him, gently bouncing Asher on her hip. You can tell she’s Basil’s daughter—there’s a calmness about her, and the way she holds my son is like he’s delicate porcelain.Beth and Rina hang back by the door. Rina’s unusually silent, her hands folded in front of her, her gaze glued to the woman lying in the bed. Beth clutches a satchel of herbs that Greta brought from
Maya's POVThe ceiling is white. Flat, blank, accusatory. I've stared at it for hours, maybe days. Time bleeds into a single gray stretch. Curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun. The only light is a thin yellow line beneath the door. The world outside moves, breathes, lives. I wish it would stop.I'm a tight coil on the bed—knees to chest, arms around shins, wearing Caden's old t-shirt, soft and threadbare, smelling of pine and rain. I haven't eaten. I haven't slept, just fitful dozes where dreams are worse than waking. I haven't spoken since the convoy left for Ironhold.The Mate Ceremony plays behind my eyes on a relentless, torturous loop. Standing across from Caden in the moon-drenched clearing, hands clasped. The expectant hush. Hopeful faces in torchlight. Lora's ancient words. The breathless pause as we waited for the spark, the scent-change, the pull.Nothing.No spark. No scent. No pull. The verdict, unspoken bu
Damian's POVThe convoy is ready.Range Rovers, SUVs, sedans—a line of dark metal and tinted glass stretching down the long driveway. Scouts check their vehicles. Engines rumble. The morning air smells of exhaust and dew.Selena wanted to drive alone. No scouts. No attendants. Just us. She didn't say why, but I know. She can't bear to have anyone else in the car. Not after last night. Not after the severance.I’m sitting on driving seat, a black SUV, Selena is outside the passenger seat, her hand on the handle, but she hasn't climbed in. Her face is hollow. Her eyes are swollen. She looks like a woman who has aged ten years in one night."Damian."I move to her. "What is it?"She doesn't answer. She just looks at me. Her lips tremble.Then: "I need you to hold me. I need you to hold me right now."I know what this is. The rejection. The severance. The hollow space left behind where something use
Selena's POVThe fire has burned low.Embers glow orange in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. The twins sleep in their crib across from the bed. Lydia's tiny hand is curled around Asher's finger, a knot of flesh and blood that no curse can undo. They don't know that their mother is breaking.I sit on Damian's lap, curled sideways, my legs folded over his thighs. My nightgown is thin, the white fabric wrinkled from hours of restless sleep. He wears gray sweatpants and a loose shirt that hangs open at the collar. His hand rests on my hip, heavy and warm.My tears won't stop.They slide down my cheeks one after another, silent and relentless. Damian wipes them with his thumb. I've lost count of how many times he's done this tonight."I'm sorry," I whisper."For what?""For being like this. For falling apart when I should be holding us together."He pulls me closer. His other hand cradles the ba
Selena's POV*The world doesn't end with a bang. It ends with a whisper that cuts like cold silver."Because the bond is wounded."Lora's voice hangs in the humid air, thick and heavy, suffocating the last remnants of the night. The electric lamps lining the stone path flicker, their harsh glare buzzing against the ancient silence of the woods. Somewhere distant, a car engine revs on the pack house highway—a brutal reminder that the rest of the world is moving forward while mine has ground to a violent halt.Everything inside me fractures. The invisible glass structure of my sanity shatters into jagged pieces, tearing through my chest, my throat. My heart doesn't just ache; it feels utterly devastated, ripped open and left to bleed onto the white ceremonial cloth beneath my bare feet.A choked sob breaks past my lips. My knees give out."Selena!" Damian's voice is a panicked roar. He catches me before I hit the stone, his
The car moves through darkness, headlights cutting a narrow path through trees that have stood here for centuries. Marcus sits up front with Damian, giving directions in a low voice. Maya is beside me in the back, her knife already in her hand, her jaw set. Caden rides in the vehicle behind us with
The council room hasn't changed.Same long wooden table. Same older wolves in dark robes. Same smell of old paper and candle wax and fear. I stood here once, years ago, when my mother died and they officially recognized my father as Beta. He held my hand through the whole thing.Now he's in a cell
Maya's POV~The box is pretty old, its corners all crushed and the lid stained with some stuff I really don’t want to think about. I stumbled upon it tucked away in the back of a supply closet, buried under blankets and rusty tools. It hasn’t been touched in years. Maybe no one really wanted to.No
Dawn comes gray and cold.I haven't slept. Just sat in the corner of the hunting lodge's main room, Mom's bracelet wrapped around my fingers, staring at nothing. Around me, Silvermoon pack members sleep on floors and benches, exhausted from the fire, the fight, the fear.Damian hasn't slept either.







