LOGINMARREK’S POV“No! You always say that!”The words rip out of me before I can stop them—too loud, too sharp, too real.Father pauses at the door.Everything goes still.Even the wind outside seems to hold its breath… like the world is waiting to see what he’ll do.“I said I have to go,” he replies, too calm. Always too calm. “It’s important.”My chest tightens until it hurts.“More important than me?” My hands curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. “It’s my birthday.”Four.I’m four today.And he’s leaving.Again.He exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. I’ve seen that before; when he’s tired, when he’s lying, when he’s already halfway gone.“Marrek…”“No!” My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. “You always leave. You always choose something else. You say we’ll be together, but we’re never together!”Behind me, Auntie Zoey clicks her tongue, sharp as a slap.“That’s enough. Since when does a four-year-old talk like an adult?” she snaps, stepping forward.Her eyes
VIOLET’S POV“Again… Come on, Marrek. Just one more step.”My voice trembles, but I force a smile.He wobbles between us.Tiny fingers stretched wide. Legs unsure. Eyes burning with stubborn determination that doesn’t belong to a child.Silvan crouches a few feet away, arms open, steady as stone, but his gaze is anything but calm.“Come to me, son,” he murmurs.Son.The word hits something deep inside my chest—something fragile… something dangerous.Marrek grunts in frustration.His foot lifts.Drops.Lifts again.I stop breathing.“Good,” I whisper, barely holding myself together. “You’re doing so good.”He stumbles forward.One step.Then another.And then—He crashes straight into Silvan.A bright, unrestrained laugh bursts out of him, wild and alive, and something inside me cracks wide open.Silvan catches him easily, lifting him high like he weighs nothing.“That’s my boy.”Marrek squeals, grabbing at his face, his hair—anything he can reach.“Should we go again?” Silvan asks, hi
MERRIN’S POV Rain hammered violently against the palace windows.Like thousands of restless fingers trying to break inside.Like the sky itself wanted to witness what was about to happen.I grabbed Mirella’s throat.Slowly.Not in rage.But in cold, controlled hatred.“Why did you say her name?” I asked.My fingers tightened.Not suddenly.Slowly.Like squeezing a ripe fruit until its skin begins to cry.Mirella’s eyes widened in terror.Her fingers clawed at my wrist.“A… Alpha… I was just joking…” she choked.Behind me, the soft mechanical movement of Emily’s wheelchair broke the silence.Celine stood immediately.“Please, Alpha! Don’t hurt her!” Emily pleaded.“Please, my husband, release her!” Celine added.But I did not move.Something inside my chest was burning.Warm.Alive.Uncomfortable.The bond.Her presence.Always her.I released Mirella suddenly.She collapsed onto the carpet, coughing violently.I turned away from her.Rain kept talking outside.Slow.Relentless.Merci
VIOLET’S POVI remember the first night we arrived at Ironcrest Pack.I remember how small I felt.Not because I was weak.But because I was being weighed.Measured.Judged.Zoey held my hand the entire walk through the gates. The iron crest above the entrance glinted under the moon like a blade catching bloodlight. Tall stone walls loomed over us. Guard towers pierced the sky.No laughter.No warmth.Only watchful eyes.Silvan walked ahead of us, steady, regal, composed, as if he belonged there.He did not.Neither did we.Two elders waited in the courtyard. Gray hair braided tightly. Hard eyes sharpened by decades of suspicion. The air smelled of pine smoke and cold iron.“You request refuge,” the taller elder said, voice flat as stone.Silvan inclined his head, not quite a bow, not quite defiance. “Yes.”“You are Alpha of Luna-light,” the second elder replied slowly. “Why not take them to your own land?”Silvan’s jaw flexed.“It is not safe.”“For whom?” the elder pressed.A beat o
MERRIN’S POVI could not sleep.The bed felt wrong without her warmth.Too wide.Too cold.Too empty.The palace itself felt hollow, like something sacred had been torn out of its chest.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.Chains biting into her wrists.Chin lifted.Defiant.“I am carrying your child.”The words would not leave me.They crawled under my skin.They echoed through bone.They would not die.I sat up sharply.The mate bond twisted in my chest like a live wire.Rage.Longing.Humiliation.Desire.All of it fused together until breathing felt like swallowing glass.“Why?” I muttered into the dark.Was I not enough?Was Silvan better than me?Did she ever love me?Or was every touch…every kiss…every moan in the dark…A lie?I rose to my feet.If she was to die at dawn, then I would know why she had done it… why she had betrayed me. I would hear the truth from her own lips.Even if it shattered me.The night air sliced like a blade the moment I stepped outside.Cold.St
COMMANDER NOLAN’S POVI used to believe loving Violet in silence was noble.Honorable.Selfless.Tonight, it feels like cowardice wrapped in obedience.The palace is too silent.No laughter drifts through the barracks.No clank of training blades.No patrol jokes carried by the wind.Even the night insects seem afraid to sing.Only the low shift of spears outside the holding house.The scrape of metal boots against dirt.They are waiting for dawn.Waiting for her death.I sit at my desk in the commander’s quarters, staring at the drawer.When I pull it open, it’s still there… the folded paper I haven’t touched in ten years.I take it out and unfold it. The pages are yellow with age, soft along the creases from being opened too many times.My hands are steady in battle.They are not steady now.The paper rustles louder than it should, like it knows what it carries.Her name waits at the top, written in ink that once trembled with teenage hope.Violet.My throat tightens.“I was sixteen
VIOLET’S POVThe slave yard smells before I see it.Rotting straw.Old sweat baked into stone.Blood that never fully washes out… no matter how hard someone scrubs.The guards didn't shove me this time.They don’t need to.“Walk,” one says.I did.The iron gate creaks open, and sound crashes into m
VIOLET’S POVDarkness didn’t come all at once.It crept in slowly.Like cold fingers closing around my chest.Voices blurred together.Footsteps.Someone shouting my name.I felt arms around me. Strong. Tight. Familiar.“Merrin…” I whispered, though my lips barely moved.The world tilted.Glass sha
MERRIN’S POVMorning doesn’t belong to kings.It belongs to the broken.I know that now.The yard smells like wet dirt and ash when I step through the gate… old smoke, rusted iron, something sour that never leaves this place no matter how many times the stones are scrubbed.Boots scuff. Armor shift
CELINE’S POVThe morning air smelled of rain on concrete and the soft burn of torches along the driveway.I walked downstairs and found Emily and Mirella already at the breakfast table, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Their hair was flawless, their perfume sharp and deliberate… like a war







