Mag-log inLana’s POV
I need to do something quick, otherwise I would be roaming the streets. I reached my one-room apartment, and sat at the edge of my bed. My boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend. I was jobless, broke, and about to be homeless. Tears fell from my eyes uncontrollably. What had I done to deserve this? The world felt like it was folding in on me, and I didn’t have the energy to fight back. So I curled up on my bed, picked up my phone and decided to scroll through LinkedIn for job opportunities. Everything had a basic payment range of four hundred to five hundred dollars per day. There was another post that grabbed my attention. 'Live-in tutor to a billionaire's daughter.' Payment is a thousand dollars per hour. I hurried up and applied for the job, and some other jobs too. Then I slept. A knock at the door jolted me awake. I sighed in annoyance, then I checked the time. 8:47 p.m. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Definitely not my ex-best friend, Sandra, and God help me if it was Zane because I would cut his balls off and trade them for a good amount of money. I padded to the door, tried to see the person from the peephole, but the place was dark outside, and then I cracked the door open. It was him. The man from the bar. Even in the dim light, he looked good. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline sculpted to perfection. His eyes locked with mine, they were unreadable, but strangely comforting. He was wearing a white buttoned-up shirt and black suit trousers, just like last night. “How…” I swallowed. “How did you find me?” I didn't expect a one-night stand to stand in front of my house the next day. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied me for a moment, taking in my tired eyes, the messy apartment behind me. “I told you we'd meet again. The thing is…” he said, finally looking into my eyes. “You’re mine.” I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing. He didn't laugh, instead he looked at me with a grin on his face. “I don’t even know your name. For f*cks sake, I don't even know you,” I folded my arms. He stepped closer, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “That's not a problem. I know that you just lost your job, and you're about to be homeless. You applied for a job as my daughter's nanny. I came for the interview, and you're hired.” I drew backwards, "So you go about giving jobs to every one-night stand? Besides, is this how you interview someone that is supposed to take care of your daughter?" He handed me his business card, "The pay is a thousand dollars per hour, and you'll have your own room. You can think, accept it and get back to me before they evict you out of this place." My eyes widened at the salary he was offering just to babysit his daughter. He walked towards the Ferrari car parked in front of my yard, entered the driver's seat and drove off. I closed the door, and sat down with my back resting on the door. I hadn't felt so confused about anything, just like I am right now, a lot of thoughts and questions popped up in my head. I looked at the blue business card in my hands, Mr Lancaster, CEO of Lancaster cars and autos. Impressive. He's the billionaire bachelor that everyone has been talking about. I heard he's very private and introverted, so he has a daughter. I wonder how old she is. I went online to search for him, but there wasn't really much to see. There was no picture of him, and he was wearing sunglasses and face masks for the others. If I consider this job, I would be paid about fifty thousand f*cking dollars, and I would also be given a room, which will reduce my cost of living and increase my savings. I just need to work for three months, and that would be it. The money should be enough to relocate to another country and start a new life there. But on the other hand, it would be awkward staying there. What if the child's mum doesn't approve of me? What next? I woke up by 5am, not that I really slept at night. I picked up my phone and stared at the business card. I flipped it over and over again, then I decided to take the bold step. He picked up the phone on the second ring. "Hello Lana, good morning. I'm sure you've considered my offer." His voice was smooth and deep, as if he had just woken up some minutes ago. "Good morning, I've decided to accept the job, but it's just for a few months." I started biting the skin on my little finger, something I do only when I'm anxious or stressed about something. "Okay. Some men will come and pick you up by seven this morning. Be ready by then." The line went off. I wore a pink polo with blue jean trousers and white sneakers, then I started packing my little things. My parents left me at the orphanage when I was two. The only thing I had to remember was the silver necklace that I hardly wore. I stopped hoping that I would see them again when I was fifteen. If they really loved me, they wouldn't have left me in an orphanage, or maybe they would have come back to find me or visit, but they didn't. I met Sandra in college, as my course mate. She was the cheerleader captain, and she had good grades. She had a soft yet defined oval face, framed by her blonde hair and hazel eyes, and her slim hour-glass figure, which made her the perfect girl that every guy wanted hanging around on his arm. When I started dating Zane, she was upset, then she became cool with it. She would sneak out with Zane and anytime I asked what was going on, she would say that they were either planning a surprise for me or he was helping her work on a school project. I told Zane that I didn't like the way they hung out, but he assured me that nothing was going on. I feel so stupid that I believe it. She left the other guys who were chasing her, just to be with my boyfriend. Now I realize that it was just a facade, the friendship, the fake love she claimed to give me, every single thing she did was just to get Zane. I hope they both rot in hell. I rolled my eyes in disgust. The knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. There were two men in black suits and dark shades standing in front of my door, two black Prado cars were parked by the roadside. They bowed their heads, "Good morning, Miss Hubbard. King Lancaster sent us to pick you up," they said in unison. "Good morning, my name is Lana. You can call me Lana. Let me get my things." I rushed inside to get my bags and my small box. I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face, and carried my things outside.To Every Single Soul Who Read This Story…I don't even know where to begin.When I first sat down and typed the opening lines of Wanted by the Alpha and His Brothers, I had no idea what this journey would look like. I had a story in my heart — one filled with tension, desire, danger, and a woman caught in the middle of forces bigger than herself — and I chose to share it with the world. With you. And now, here we are, at the end of it all, and I am so overwhelmed with gratitude that I genuinely needed a moment just to collect myself before writing this.Thank you.Those two words don't feel like enough. They never do when you mean them this deeply. But I want you to know that every single time you clicked to the next chapter, every time you stayed up past midnight because you had to know what happened next, every time you smiled, gasped, rolled your eyes at the drama, clutched your chest, or screamed at your screen — there was always a ghost smile on my lips. This story wasn't always
Lana's POV Three Years Later Nobody warned me that the hardest part of surviving a supernatural war would be the pack council meetings. I am sitting in the third row of Red Creek's great hall, which Bastien has converted from a place of dramatic confrontations and emotional reckoning into a place of administrative business, which is somehow both less terrifying and more exhausting than everything that came before. He is at the head of the table with the expression of a man who went from rogue brother to Alpha of one of the most significant packs in the supernatural world and still cannot fully believe that this is his life now. Neither can I, honestly, and I have a front row seat. "The border revision proposal from the Night Fang delegation," Bastien says, consulting his papers with the focused attention of someone who has discovered, to his own great surprise, that he actually enjoys the logistics of governance, "requires a response by the new moon. Thoughts?" Idris, seated to
Lana's POV The meadow stretches before us like the world kept its promise. Wildflowers in purple and gold, scattered through the grass in patterns that belong to no one's design but their own. A stream finding its way over smooth stones with the particular cheerful persistence of water that has never been told it cannot go somewhere. Beyond it, the forest rising ancient and green, its canopy so dense in the high summer that the light comes through in pieces, shifting and dappled and golden. We found this place two years ago, in the weeks after everything ended, when Ronan and I were quietly deciding what we wanted the rest of our lives to look like. We had been walking, just walking, letting the land show us itself without agenda, when the meadow opened before us and we both stopped at the same moment and looked at each other. Yes, we said, without words. This. The house at the meadow's edge was built over six months, Ronan doing more of the actual work than he needed to, which
Ronan's POV The days after the war have their own texture. Not the urgent, running texture of crisis. Something slower. The texture of people moving through the work that comes after, which is less dramatic than fighting and requires more of a different kind of strength. Wounds healed in the healer's wing and wounds less visible healing more slowly everywhere else. Prisoners tried with the careful formality of a process that needed to be seen to be just, not only to be just. The dead mourned in the full ceremony that the days of fighting had not allowed. Finn's burial was quiet. I chose that deliberately. Not to diminish him, but to give the small number of people who genuinely grieved him the space to do it without performance. My mother cried. I held her and let her cry and did not explain the complicated feelings happening in me simultaneously, because they did not require explanation. They only required to be felt, which I did. Jessica remains in her cell. She has stopped spe
Lana's POV The manor is quiet now. After days of chaos, of battle, of death and revelation and the crumbling of everything we thought we knew, Red Creek has finally fallen still. The wounded are healing. The dead are mourned. The prisoners wait in their cells for judgments that will reshape the future of every pack. And in the garden where we first learned to trust each other, Ronan and I sit alone. The moon hangs overhead, full and silver, casting long shadows across the frozen ground. Winter's grip is loosening, I can feel it in the air, the first hints of spring, of renewal, of life beginning again after the long darkness. Ronan hasn't spoken since we sat down. Neither have I. We've just... been. Together. Present. Letting the silence say what words can't. But silence can't last forever. Not when there's so much to say. "Ronan." His name is soft in the night air. "We need to talk. Really talk. No lies. No pride. Just truth." He turns to me, and in the moonlight, I s
Dorothy's POV I am not supposed to be in this part of the manor. I know all the reasons. The grown-ups have been very clear and very consistent about where I am allowed to be and when, and none of those places and times include the corridor outside Daddy's study at this hour, sitting on the cold stone floor with my back against the wall and my knees pulled to my chest. I know the reasoning behind the rule. I am eight years old. Things happened today that eight-year-olds are not supposed to see. The grown-ups are managing a very difficult situation and they cannot manage me at the same time. What they do not understand, what they have never understood about me, is that I have been managing myself for a long time now. I learned to manage myself the day Momma died, when Daddy went somewhere inside himself that I could see him from but not reach, and I understood that the person who was supposed to help me navigate the world was no longer available to do that, and that I was going to
Lana's POV“She asked for me?”The words came out more sarcastic than I intended. This mad woman wanted to chat with the one person she has been trying to sabotage since she got here after letting a pack of wolves off their leech. This woman has gone bunkers.Idris’s expression was granite. “It’s
Ronan's POV The silence in the war room was the loudest sound I'd ever heard. It was the silence of a clock ticking down to an unseen detonation. Jessica was in the wind, Lana was in an isolated location known only to a handful of my most trusted, and one of those trusted had just sold her locatio
Lana's POV I was still reeling from what I'd heard from Zed and Jessica or Jessica. I wasn't exactly sure yet. But what I was sure about was something going to happen at midnight, today and I don't know if it is part of Ronan's plans or Jess' I decided I needed to tell someone about it. Ronan w
Ronan's POVThe woods were thick with the scents of the confused wolves. We’d found eight of the twelve, dazed and aggressive, about to prey on innocent humans. It had taken strength and patience to subdue them without lethal force, to herd them back toward the kennels where heavy sedation awaited.







