LOGINWalter's POV
The phone clicks silent in my hand. Mary's trembling voice still echoes in my ears—'please, let me see my daughter’—and I allow myself a small, private smile. She is so wonderfully broken, so perfectly obedient.
Fear is a leash that never snaps, and I hold the end of it. Her daughter, little Zeo, is safely tucked away in my private penthouse beyond the compound, guarded by women who owe me debts they can never repay.
And Mary d
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, "
Walter's POVThe phone clicks silent in my hand. Mary's trembling voice still echoes in my ears—'please, let me see my daughter’—and I allow myself a small, private smile. She is so wonderfully broken, so perfectly obedient.Fear is a leash that never snaps, and I hold the end of it. Her daughter, little Zeo, is safely tucked away in my private penthouse beyond the compound, guarded by women who owe me debts they can never repay.And Mary doesn't know where. She doesn't know anything except that if she fails, her child dies. It's beautiful, really. The simplicity of it, and I love it so much.I pocket the burner phone and step through the hidden door behind the eastern library, descending the spiral staircase into the underground passage that leads to Arthur's sanctuary. Few know these tunnels exist—they were built during the old wars, escape routes for Alphas long dead. Now they serve a different purpose. They lead t
Selena’s POVThe morning dawns soft and golden over Ironhold, the kind of morning that feels like a blessing after so many days of tension. I'm in Sera's chamber, adjusting the pillows behind her back while Greta prepares the morning remedy liquid that tastes like hell. Sera is sitting up—actually sitting up—her white hair brushed to a shine, her cheeks flushed with healthy color. She's laughing at something Greta said, a sound so light and free it makes my heart squeeze."You're spoiling me," Sera says, her voice stronger than it's been in weeks. "All this attention. I'll get used to it.""You deserve to be spoiled," I tell her, smoothing the blanket over her lap. "After everything, you deserve the world."She reaches out and takes my hand, her grip firmer than I expect. "I don't know what you've done, Selena, but I feel… I feel like myself again. For the first time in years, I can breathe without pain. I can think
Selena’s POVA week has passed. A whole week of holding my breath, of smiling at Sera while my heart pounds, of watching Mary serve tea and praying no one notices the slight difference in the aftertaste. And somehow, impossibly, nothing has gone wrong.No one suspects Mary. No one suspects me. The watchers—whoever they are seem to have retreated into the shadows, or perhaps they're simply waiting, like predators who know their prey will eventually stumble. I've walked these corridors every day, searching faces, trying to feel from my heart as I told Damian to do. But everyone I meet looks normal. Kind, even. The maids smile. The guards nod respectfully. It's almost unnerving, this peace.Sera is healing. That's the miracle in all of this. With the remedy tea replacing the poison, her body is finally fighting back. Color has returned to her cheeks. She more and more alive than yesterday, laughing at some story Gracia told her about Tristan's childhood mischief. She even asked to si
Damian’s POVThe morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and sweat from the training grounds below the eastern battlements. I stand beside Gracia on a stone overlook, watching Ironhold's warriors move through drills with brutal precision. I've seen Silvermoon's forces, and I'm proud of them—but this is something else entirely.Gracia gestures expansively. "Walter and Eamon built all of this. Every training regimen, every defensive protocol. The men lives for Ironhold."I watch as squads shift formation in perfect synchronization. Beyond the main yard, I spot a rifle range where warriors fire with chilling accuracy, the crack of gunshots echoing against the mountainside.Further still, snipers practice on a ridge, their spotters relaying targets through earpieces. A separate ring hosts hand-to-hand combat, and the violence there is controlled but savage—joint locks, throws, and strikes that would shatter bone.Then my attention snags on a wide, fenced enclosure to the north. I
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







