LOGINEthan's eyes flashed with something primal, but my attention was yanked toward Lycan as he lunged, teeth bared and muscles coiled with lethal intent. The air erupted with a frenzy of snarls and snapping jaws. It was chaos—fur and rage clashing in a brutal storm. My heart jackhammered against my ribs, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.
This was Lycan, the same wolf who had been gentle with me, who had nuzzled into my hand like a devoted guardian. But now? Now he was a beast of fury, wild and unstoppable.
Ethan staggered under the onslaught, his movements sharp but restrained. He was holding back, dodging Lycan's lunges with gritted teeth and desperate resolve. Lycan had no such reservations. His snarls vibrated through the air, shaking the trees themselves. The woodland throbbed with an invisible force, ancient and raw, stirring something deep inside me—something I couldn't quite grasp.
Ethan went down hard, Lycan's massive paws pinning him to the forest floor. His eyes widened with shock as he struggled beneath the beast's weight. My body moved before my brain could catch up.
"Stop!" I screamed, lunging forward.
I grabbed onto Lycan's thick fur, yanking with every ounce of strength I had. My hands trembled, but I held on, desperate to pull him off Ethan. The wolf barely noticed me, his focus locked on his prey. His jaws snapped dangerously close to Ethan's throat.
"Lycan, stop!" I begged, my voice cracking.
Then it happened—too fast for me to process.
Lycan whipped his head around, his teeth catching my arm. The pain exploded through me, white-hot and blinding. I screamed, stumbling backward as my knees buckled. Blood bloomed against my skin, and the world tilted.
Lycan froze.
The snarling stopped, replaced by a guttural whimper. His amber eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd done. The fierce predator melted away in an instant, replaced by guilt and heartbreak. He crouched low, inching toward me with ears flattened and tail tucked.
My breath hitched. I couldn't be angry—not when I saw the torment in his eyes. He hadn't meant it. I knew that deep in my bones.
"Quinn!" Ethan's voice cracked as he scrambled over to me. His hands gripped my shoulders, shaking me. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I whispered, though my voice wavered. The bite wasn't as bad as it had felt—just a few puncture wounds, nothing deep. Still, my arm throbbed with pain.
Ethan wasn't looking at me. His gaze was locked on Lycan, and fury rippled through his entire body.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he roared at the wolf.
Lycan let out a low, desperate whine, inching closer to me. I reached out with my uninjured arm, my fingers brushing against his fur. His warmth seeped into me, grounding me.
"It's okay," I said softly, more to Lycan than to Ethan. "You didn't mean it, did you?"
Lycan whimpered, his massive head bowing in shame. He leaned forward and licked the bite on my arm, his tongue warm and gentle, as if trying to erase the damage he'd done.
Ethan stiffened beside me. His anger flared again, sharp and hot.
"Quinn, stop," he snapped, pulling my hand away from Lycan. "He hurt you. You shouldn't be letting him—"
"Ethan, seriously. I'm fine," I insisted, shaking off Ethan's grip. "It wasn't his fault. He didn't mean to."
Ethan's jaw clenched. His eyes darted between me and the wolf, a storm brewing behind them. "You don't understand, Quinn," he growled. "Do you even know what a bite means? What that could—" He cut himself off, biting his lip hard.
I frowned, wondering what he was getting so worked up about. "What don't I understand, Ethan? What's going on?"
Ethan stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated," he muttered. "Just… let's go inside, okay?"
Before I could respond, Lycan growled low, stepping protectively between me and Ethan. His body tensed and muscles coiled.
"Lycan?" I whispered, confused.
Ethan's voice sharpened. "Quinn, come on."
Lycan's growl deepened, vibrating through the air. The tension was suffocating, pressing down on me from all sides.
"What is wrong with you two?" I demanded, stepping between them. My head spun from the intensity of it all. "Why are you acting like this?"
Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came. His eyes flicked toward Lycan, and something shifted. I could feel it now, the strange energy that tugged at my soul, pulling me toward it.
And then a sound shattered the night.
A sharp, guttural howl sliced through the air, freezing the blood in my veins. It was close—too close.
Ethan's body went rigid. His eyes locked onto the dark shadows creeping toward us from the forest's edge.
"We need to go," he said urgently, grabbing my hand. "Now."
Before I could protest, Lycan let out a warning growl, stepping in front of me. His eyes glowed a fierce, dangerous red, and a shiver ran down my spine.
The shadows moved.
From the darkness, a figure emerged—tall, imposing, and with eyes as red as blood. They locked onto me, unblinking. The air around us seemed to freeze.
Ethan swore under his breath, his grip on my hand tightening. Even he seemed rattled.
The figure's voice was low and menacing, cutting through the night like a blade.
"She's mine now."
If this chapter did anything to your blood pressure, go ahead and like the book.🔥
The sun was setting low behind the towering Blackthorn estate, casting streaks of amber and crimson across the sky. The place looked more like a fortress than a home, with its wrought-iron gates and endless rows of perfectly trimmed hedges. My heart was already in my throat, but when I saw her walking toward us, I felt my chest tighten like a vice.Casey.Her smile was polite but sharp, the kind that felt like it was carved from marble—cold, unyielding, and fake as hell. She strolled up with the grace of someone who knew she was untouchable, her sleek navy-blue dress hugging her figure just enough to be classy but not so much as to be vulgar. Her eyes flicked to me, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and I knew she was assessing me. Calculating.“They’re waiting for you inside,” Casey said, her eyes darting to Cale like she wasn’t sure if she should curtsy or bow. Her gaze barely touched me. To her, I wasn’t a threat. Not yet, anyway.Cale’s grip on my arm tightened as if h
Being "perfect" was never something I aimed for, but here I am, sitting in a high-end café dressed in a sleek beige outfit that hugs every inch of me like a second skin. My legs are crossed just so, my posture elegant and deliberate. The soft leather of the chair beneath me feels too plush, like it knows I don't belong here. But I make it look like I do. My every movement is measured, calculated, and graceful. I lift my coffee cup to my lips, pinky slightly raised, and sip slowly. My eyes stay forward, focused, even though I can feel the stares of passersby through the glass window.They always look. Men. Women. Even the baristas try to be subtle but fail miserably. I can’t blame them. It’s the aura I’ve built. I’m not just another woman sitting in a café. I’m the Luna. Cale’s Luna.The girl who once flinched at the mention of his name is gone. She’s buried so deep I doubt I could dig her up if I tried. This version of me? She walks beside him into meetings with alphas of other packs,
The smell of rosewater and jasmine clung to my skin, the oils still fresh from the omega women’s hands. My skin felt slick and soft, like I’d been molded from wax and dipped in honey. They’d scrubbed every inch of me, their faces blank as they worked. No words. No kindness. Just hands rough from duty. My hair was pulled back, loose curls spilling over my shoulders, and the dress they’d given me—if it could be called a dress—was nothing more than a slip of silk clinging to my body like a second skin. Every part of me was on display. Every flaw. Every scar. Every reminder of what had been done to me.But they didn’t see that. No one did. Not anymore.I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room and barely recognized myself. Pale blue eyes, sharp and unyielding. Not the dull, lifeless stare I’d seen for years. My gaze flickered with something I hadn’t seen in a long time. Control. Purpose.He thinks he’s testing me.“Trinity,” I whispered in my mind, my lips unmoving."I’m here,
CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains contents of violence that may disturb sensitive readers and can be triggering for survivors of trauma and abuse.(Quinn’s perspective)Pain used to be a constant. Not the kind that fades after a few hours or even days. No, this was the kind that buried itself so deep in your bones that it felt like it would be part of you forever. But now… I don’t feel it anymore.The first time I noticed it, I thought I’d gone numb. It wasn’t a slow process either—one day, I was screaming and thrashing under their blows; the next, I just... stopped. The barbed wire bat hit my ribs with a sickening thwack, but I didn’t flinch. The guard cursed under his breath and swung it again, harder this time. Still nothing. My skin tore, and my bones ached, but there was no reaction. No sound. No satisfaction for them.I’d won that day. Not because I fought back. No, because I didn’t. They couldn’t break me anymore. Their weapons, their fists, their fire—none of it mattered.
(Luca’s perspective)I used to believe in things like love. Loyalty. Humanity. I thought those things made us strong—made me strong.They didn’t. They made me weak. A fool. A dreamer who thought he could keep his world intact with hope and sheer determination.But hope is a liar.It whispered in my ear for months, telling me she’d come back. That I’d find her. That Quinn would be okay.She wasn’t.I knew it the moment I burned the last picture of her. The edges curled under the flame, the image of her face shrinking into black ash. That photograph was the final piece of her—the last link to the boy I used to be.The boy who searched for her.The boy who loved her.Gone.I stood there, staring into the fire as the smoke curled into the night sky. My hand tightened around the lighter until my knuckles turned white. This was it. The final step.I let the lighter fall into the flames, and with it, I let Quinn go.I used to think I was different from my father. That I could lead this pack
CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains contents of violence that may disturb sensitive readers and can be triggering for survivors of trauma and abuse.(Quinn’s perspective)I lay on the cold stone floor, the chill biting into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my bones. Every part of me throbbed, a dull reminder of what I had become—a prisoner, a plaything for the pack to break.My breathing was shallow, each inhale laced with pain. Ribs—probably cracked. Lips—split and crusted with dried blood. Eye—swollen shut. The room stank of iron, sweat, and fear. My fear. Their victory.They’d beaten me again today, just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.At first, I thought I’d die from it. I hoped I would. Death would’ve been a mercy, an escape. But no. My cursed blood healed me. Every single time. Bones snapped back into place, bruises faded, and cuts stitched themselves together. I was the perfect punching bag—never staying broken long enough







