LOGINAlaricWe are all in wolf form when we enter the bush, paws hitting the damp earth in heavy rhythm, branches snapping under our weight as we push deeper into the woods. The scent of my son is there, faint at first, like a thread barely holding together, but it is enough. It is enough to keep me moving, enough to keep my mind from going back to the way Celine looked when I left her standing in front of that empty crib.She looked hollow. Not crying, not screaming, just standing there like someone had reached inside her and switched something off.The thought claws at me as I run, my wolf snarling low in my chest, urging me faster, harder. I push the worry down because I cannot afford it right now. If I think too much about her, about the way her hands were shaking when I kissed her forehead and told her I would bring our son back, I might lose focus. And losing focus right now could cost my child his life.The scent gets thicker as we go, more familiar, more alive, and my heart starts
CelineAs the rest of the pack celebrate, drink, and dance like nothing in the world could ever go wrong again, I slowly slip away from the noise. The laughter is loud, the music heavy, the scent of alcohol and excitement thick in the air, but none of it is reaching me anymore. My chest feels tight, uncomfortable, like I have stayed too long in a place that suddenly no longer belongs to me.I tell myself I am just being dramatic. I tell myself I am a new mother and new mothers imagine things all the time. Still, the feeling does not leave. It only grows heavier with every step I take away from the ceremony hall.The corridor leading to the nursery is quiet, too quiet compared to the chaos behind me. My footsteps echo softly, my dress brushing against my legs, my hands curling and uncurling at my sides. With every step, the thought repeats itself in my head, over and over again, like a broken chant.I heard him. I know I did.When I reach the nursery door and push it open, the room gre
CelineIt’s been three months since I gave birth, three months since my body stopped feeling like it was tearing itself apart every time I breathed, and three months since I walked back into the Nightshade pack house with my child in my arms and Alaric at my side. The place still smells the same, wood and stone and something sharp underneath it all, like old dominance soaked into the walls, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. Maybe that’s just me. Maybe it’s because I came back different, carrying a baby on my hip instead of chains around my throat.Cade was the one who came looking for Alaric.I remember the day clearly, the way the rogues stiffened when his scent hit the camp, the way hands instinctively went to weapons even though no one moved to attack him. He didn’t come in with threats or soldiers. He came alone, his shoulders tense, his expression tight like he already knew the conversation wouldn’t go the way he wanted.Nightshade had been attacked.Not a full-scale war, but
CelineI wake up slowly, like I’m crawling out of something thick and heavy, and for a second I don’t even know where I am. My eyes blink against the dim light, and all I feel is this deep, dragging ache inside me, low in my belly and across my ribs. Everything feels sore, like my body has been torn apart and stitched back together the wrong way. I try to breathe properly, but even that hurts.Someone is holding my hand. Warm and steady. Too steady.I turn my head and see Alaric sitting on the floor beside the bed, completely drained, like he hasn’t slept for hours, maybe days. His eyes are swollen, red in a way I’m not used to seeing on him. His fingers are wrapped around mine like he’s scared I’ll disappear if he lets go for even one second.“You’re awake,” he whispers, like the sound might break me again.My voice barely works. “I… I’m alive.”He nods, but the way his throat moves tells me he’s trying not to cry. “You scared me,” he says quietly. “Celine, you really scared me.”I a
AlaricThe moment her body slips in my arms, everything around me becomes noise I can barely understand. The screams, the crackling fire, the pounding of paws on soaked earth, all of it mixes into one long roar in my head. I keep calling her name, but she isn’t answering, and that alone is enough to make every part of me shake.Her blood is warm against my chest. Too warm. I can feel it seeping through my clothes, sticking them to my skin as if it’s trying to hold on to me. My hands won’t stop trembling, and I keep adjusting my grip like she’s made of something fragile, something that might fall apart if I run too hard or too slow."Celine, stay with me," I keep saying into her hair. My voice cracks every time I try to raise it. "Please look at me... just open your eyes for one second."She doesn’t move.Her head is slumped against my shoulder, her breathing shallow and dragging like every inhale hurts. The camp is burning behind us, flames reaching up like they want to swallow what’s
CelineAs Alaric walks beside me, quiet, his presence a steadying shadow, but even that doesn’t fully calm the gnawing tension that’s been coiling in my chest all night.A distant howl splits the night, raw and urgent. I freeze, my hand pressing to my stomach instinctively. Alaric stiffens beside me, ears twitching, eyes scanning the trees. Another howl echoes, this one closer, angry, feral. My heart hammers.“They’re coming,” Alaric mutters, voice low but tense.I swallow hard, my throat dry, panic flaring. “Who? Who’s coming?”But the answer comes before he can speak—a blood-chilling scream, the unmistakable sound of someone being attacked. My legs move before my mind catches up, running toward the camp, each step jarring my swollen belly, each breath harsh and ragged. Alaric is at my side immediately, matching my pace, his hand brushing mine in a silent promise that he won’t let anything happen.The camp comes into view, flames licking the edges of tents and shouts cutting through







