LOGIN(Luca’s perspective)
The moment her scent started fading, my gut twisted into a knot. Something was wrong—dead wrong. Quinn wasn’t anywhere on campus. Not by the classrooms, not near the gym, nowhere. My heart slammed against my ribs as I stormed through the grounds, adrenaline surging through my veins.
“Marcus, Nick!” I barked, waving them over. “Fan out. Search everywhere—the grounds, the forest, even the damn parking lot. I want eyes everywhere.”
They didn’t hesitate, scattering in every direction, but I wasn’t waiting around for results. My car screeched as I tore out of the school parking lot, tires spitting gravel. I had one destination in mind: her house.
The engine roared as I pushed it to the limit, weaving through traffic like a madman. My instincts were on fire, and every second without finding her made the panic crawl higher up my throat. By the time I skidded into her driveway, my heart was a battering ram.
Her scent was faint but present. She’d been here, but where was she now? I pounded on the front door until my knuckles stung. No answer. Screw this.
I sprinted around the side of the house and scaled the wall like a man possessed. Her bedroom window was unlocked—thank God. I shoved it open and climbed inside, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor.
Something was off. The air was thick with her mom’s heavy perfume, cloying and overpowering. It almost masked Quinn’s scent—almost. My eyes darted around the room. Drawers were half-open, books scattered across the floor. My chest tightened. She’d been packing.
She was planning to leave.
A cold realization punched through me. She was running.
I paced the room, piecing it together, then bolted for her parents’ room. Empty. Quiet. But that damn perfume lingered, thick as fog. My pulse raced. Something wasn’t right.
In the kitchen, I spotted it—a letter taped to the fridge. Her handwriting was unmistakable. I ripped it down, inhaling the faint traces of her scent clinging to the paper. My lips curled into a grim smile.
“Oh, Quinny, baby, you clever girl,” I muttered.
She’d drenched herself in her mom’s perfume to throw us off. But if she thought that was going to stop me, she was dead wrong.
I was back in my car in seconds, tires screeching as I floored it down the street, windows down to catch even the faintest trace of that cloying perfume. Think, Luca. Where would she go? Flights were out—we’d be watching those. Big transactions? Not a chance.
Then it hit me. She is heading in the direction of the Auke Bay Ferry Terminal.
Of course. The ferry was her best shot at slipping out of town unnoticed. Twenty minutes away if you drove like a sane person.
Ten for me.
The scent grew thinner the further I went, and a new sensation hit me like a freight train—fear. Abraded and electric, it sliced through my chest.
Quinn was suddenly terrified.
I gritted my teeth, slamming my foot on the gas. Trees blurred past, and every second felt like a lifetime. My knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Please, please be okay.
I tore into the ferry terminal’s lot, gravel flying as I skidded to a stop. My eyes darted to the docks. Empty. The ferry was already drifting out to sea, a speck on the horizon.
Damn it.
But wait—her and her mother’s perfume still lingered, stronger now, coming from the woods off to the side of the terminal. She didn’t make it on the ferry.
I was out of the car in a flash, sprinting toward the trees. Her fear spiked again, almost knocking the wind out of me. My legs burned as I pushed harder, branches slashing at my skin.
Then I saw it.
Her backpack, abandoned in the brush.
Panic clawed at my throat, but I shoved it down and kept running. The trees blurred around me until two figures came into view up ahead. A shadow of a man dragging a girl who was fighting with everything she had.
“Quinn!” I roared, the sound ripping from my chest.
Her head whipped around, eyes wide with relief and terror. “Luca!” she screamed, her voice raw.
That was all I needed. I bolted toward them, fury igniting every muscle in my body. I was going to tear him apart.
The man turned, and my blood went cold.
The Echo.
That grin, that twisted, smug expression—it was him. He thought he’d won.
“You’re not getting away with this!” I spat, my voice a guttural snarl.
I closed the distance, but then he started shifting. His form blurred, twisting into something darker and more terrible. Shadowy tendrils coiled around him, thick and black, rising like smoke.
Quinn stumbled back, trapped inside the swirling mass. Her eyes locked on mine, panic etched into her face.
“No!” I roared, charging forward.
The darkness expanded, wrapping tighter around her. She mouthed something, and even though I couldn’t hear it, I felt it in my bones.
“I do love you.”
The words hit me harder than any blow, heartfelt and undeniable.
“Don’t you dare!” I lunged, a savage snarl tearing from my throat.
My fingers stretched out, inches from her, but the darkness exploded, scattering into the air like smoke. She was gone.
I crashed to my knees, clawing at empty air, my chest heaving. Her scent lingered, faint and fading.
“Quinn!” I bellowed, my voice ragged and broken.
The trees swallowed the sound, mocking me with their silence. Desperation clawed at my chest, and a howl erupted from deep within me, raw and primal. I screamed her name over and over, refusing to believe what had just happened.
But the truth was undeniable.
She was gone.
Okay but be honest… would you forgive him?💋
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







