LOGINHis eyes flickered, widening for a split second before that familiar coldness settled over his face like armor. "Then why pull me in here, Quinn?" The words sliced through the thick air between us, sharp and unyielding. His tone was harsh, daring me to admit what I wasn’t ready to say.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "To tell you to stop acting like I don’t exist. Like none of it mattered."
He let out a bitter laugh, low and sharp, cutting right through me. "I did what you asked."
"Yeah, well... maybe I was wrong," I admitted, barely able to meet his eyes.
Luca’s fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. That stupid spark between us — the one I kept trying to deny — blazed hotter than ever. His gaze softened, but his voice was thick with something raw, something he probably wouldn’t admit even under torture. “You want to know why I’ve been ignoring you?”
I didn’t want to hear it. Or maybe I did. God, I didn’t even know anymore. My heart was a traitor, beating wildly against the walls I kept trying to build around it. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice barely a breath.
His jaw tensed. “Because I thought giving you space was what you wanted. You wanted distance. You wanted out.”
“That’s not what I wanted, Luca,” I shot back, louder now, anger flaring through the mess of emotions swirling inside me. My fists clenched, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “I just needed time.”
“Time?” he echoed, disbelief dripping from his voice. He stepped back, his hand dropping from my chin, and the space between us felt like a chasm. “Time’s just an excuse, Quinn. It’s running in circles, hoping you can dodge the truth. And we both know you’re too stubborn to admit how you really feel.”
Pride burned hot in my chest. How dare he think he knew how I felt? “Oh, so now you get to tell me what I feel?” I snapped, my voice a little too loud for the tiny space.
He didn’t even blink. Instead, he crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “I’m not the one pulling you into closets, Quinn.”
The words hit me like a slap, the weight of them crashing down on me. The space between us was suffocating, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He was slipping through my fingers, and I didn’t even know why I cared so much.
And then, the truth hit me like a freight train. The thought of him ignoring me, shutting me out forever—it terrified me.
“Then what do you want?” I whispered, the words a dare, my voice trembling.
The question hung there, heavy and loaded. Luca’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark and intense. For a moment, I thought he might say it—might pull me close and admit everything he was holding back.
But instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity that broke through every defense I had. “Maybe I want you to be sure, Quinn. Because right now, you’re only half in. And I can’t be with someone who isn’t all there.”
Before I could react, before I could even process what he’d just said, he stepped back. His face was unreadable as he slipped out of the closet, leaving me standing there alone, every nerve buzzing with what I didn’t get to say.
The door clicked shut behind him, and it felt like the ground had fallen out from under me. I just stood there, barely breathing, his words replaying in my head on an endless loop.
Maybe I want you to be sure.
I tried to steady myself, but every breath felt jagged, like shards of glass tearing through my lungs. Why did he have to twist everything like this? Why did he make it seem like I was the problem—like he was some wounded hero just waiting for me to figure things out?
The dark room pressed in around me, but instead of grounding me, it made everything worse. I could still feel him, the heat of his presence, the intensity of his stare. He was in every thought, every quiet moment, and I hated it.
Finally, I shoved the door open and stepped into the hallway. The harsh fluorescent lights stung my eyes, and the quiet hum of the school’s heating system was deafening. I didn’t even know where I was going; I just needed to move, to escape the feeling clawing at my insides.
The next few days were a blur. Every time I saw Luca, he acted like I didn’t exist, like that conversation never happened. Like we never happened. And it was killing me.
I caught myself glancing at him in the cafeteria, looking for him in the hallways. My eyes betrayed me every time, settling on his face before I could stop them. And each time he looked through me with that cold, detached indifference, it was like a fresh sting, a reminder of the distance he’d put between us.
It felt worse than any fight or insult he could’ve thrown at me. He was ripping himself away from me, piece by piece, and I couldn’t figure out why I cared so much.
But maybe—maybe I really did care. And that was the scariest part of all.
One morning, he brushed past me in the hallway, so close I could smell that familiar mix of cedar and something faintly sweet. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and I thought I saw something there—something dark and conflicted, mirroring the storm inside me.
But then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd of students, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
I couldn’t take it anymore. This whole town had brought me nothing but danger and emotional chaos, and I was done. I stormed to my locker, yanked it open, and stuffed my belongings into my bag. My chest was tight, every breath ragged with frustration and heartbreak.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I marched toward the school’s main doors, my footsteps echoing through the hallway. I didn’t care who saw me. I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was done playing this game, done letting Luca mess with my head.
The cold air hit me as I pushed through the doors and stepped outside. The wind stung my face, but I barely felt it. My feet hit the pavement hard, each step fueled by anger and something else—something raw and desperate.
I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I needed to get away.
From Luca.
From this school.
From everything.
If this chapter hurt you just a little… go ahead and like the book, I deserve it.
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







