LOGINLana’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.Ronan's POVThe quiet in my office lies.It has been doing this for hours, presenting itself as stillness while everything underneath it moves. I have sat at this desk and read the same pages enough times that the words have stopped carrying meaning separately from their implications, and their implications are enormous and irrevocable and spread across the wood in front of me like the anatomy of a disaster.Bastien found it. Idris helped him dig, pulling threads from places Gideon had been careful to bury, following chains of correspondence that were supposed not to exist anymore. Together they assembled something that is less like a revelation and more like a mirror. The kind that shows you what was always there and makes you wonder how you failed to see it.The door opens without a knock. Bastien and Idris enter together, carrying the particular exhaustion of people who have been working in the dark for days and have finally come back into the light with something in their hands. T
Lana's POVTime is a strange thing when you stop trying to hold it still.I have stopped counting the days. Stopped marking their passage by the quality of light through my window or the rhythm of meals or the quiet shuffle of the guard rotation changing outside my door. Those structures belong to a version of me that needed external things to feel anchored. That version is gone. What replaced her does not need to count days because she can feel time moving inside her body, in the slow, inexorable expansion of something that has no interest in waiting for her to be ready.The power is stronger every morning.I feel it when I wake, a hum in my bones that was not there when I closed my eyes the night before, as if my body has been working through the dark hours on something I did not authorize. I feel it when I walk the east corridor, electricity moving along the surface of my skin, barely contained, politely waiting. I feel it when I am absolutely still, lying on my back in the early h
Bastien's POVThe suppression magic lifted like a hand releasing a throat.I felt it go sometime in the hours after Lana's power tore through Thornwood, after the truths Gideon had spent decades burying came flooding into the open, after the careful architecture of everything he had built began coming apart at its foundations. One moment the constant weight in my chest was there, pressing down on everything, dulling every instinct and sense. The next it was simply gone, and I was gasping with the unfamiliar sensation of being entirely myself for the first time in longer than I want to calculate.I did not run. I was too depleted for running, too wrung out from weeks of suppression, too aware that the chaos beyond the walls of wherever I was being held was only the beginning of something that would require every bit of strength I had left. So I waited. I let the healers assess me with their careful hands and their unreadable expressions. I watched the guard rotations change from Gideon
Ronan's POVI see the files in her hands the moment I enter the room.I see her face, and I know.She is standing in the center of my office surrounded by scattered papers, pale as winter, her eyes blazing with something that is not anger, not grief, not any of the emotions I have developed strategies for managing over the years of my leadership. This is worse than all of them. This is the cold, absolute certainty of someone who has assembled the pieces and seen the picture clearly and will never be able to unsee it.The second folder lies open on my desk. The one I told myself I had not opened because I was afraid of what it contained, which was a lie I had become comfortable telling myself. The truth is simpler and more damning: I did not open it because I did not want confirmation. Confirmation would have required action. Acknowledgment would have required honesty. And honesty, I have spent my entire adult life understanding, is the one thing that cannot be taken back once it is gi
Lana's POVMy hands are shaking, and I did not notice until I tried to turn the page.The first page of the second file is clinical in the way of documents produced by observers rather than participants. Detached. Precise. The kind of language that has been drained of all warmth on purpose, because warmth would require whoever wrote it to acknowledge that the subject they are analyzing is a person.Subject: Lana Hubbard.Classification: Hybrid Specimen — Fox/Wolf.Designation: Lycan. Theoretical category, previously undocumented.Lycan.The word sits in my skull and refuses to settle. I have heard it before, in whispered conversations in places where people believed I could not hear, in ancient texts Maison showed me when he was trying to explain what I might be becoming, in the frightened stories that pass between wolves when they think they are among only their own. A Lycan is a creature of legend. Something that exists in the histories as a warning, not a possibility. Half Fox, hal
Lana's POVNo one speaks about it openly.The wolves are too disciplined, too careful with their Alpha's grief and Jessica's loss to voice what I see moving in their eyes every time I enter a room. But silence can carry as much accusation as words, and the silence in Red Creek since that night has been very loud. It follows me through the corridors and sits down at meals with me and waits outside my door in the mornings.Whose fault was it?I know the answer. I know it with the clarity of a truth-seer and the certainty of someone who was actually there, who poured everything she had into keeping that small life going, who exhausted herself fighting for a child she had no obligation to fight for at all. Without me, that baby would have been gone weeks before it was. I gave it more time than it would have had. I gave it everything I was capable of giving.It was not enough. But it was not nothing. And it was not my fault.That does not stop the looks.I have grown familiar with the spec
Lana's POV The pixels on my screen blurred into a meaningless swirl of color. Fabric swatches for the Kensington project lay scattered across my desk, but all I could see were chess pieces spilling in a dark cabinet, and hear Gideon’s voice, cool and analytical: She is a key. We just need to find
Lana's POV The world inside the cabinet was dark, dust-scented, and oppressively narrow. The sliver of light through the carved ventilation panel in the door was my only tether to the outside. I pressed myself against the back, willing my body to dissolve into the wool blankets and old game boxes,
Lana's POV The south sunroom was all warm light and thriving green plants, a world away from the marble chill of the main house. With Kaelia there, it felt like a different place entirely. We collapsed onto a cushioned wicker sofa, and for a long moment, just sat in the comfort of each other’s pr
Lana's POV I just need a break, is that too much to ask? Bastien. He was leaning against a thick pine trunk, one hand braced against it as if to hold himself upright. Even in the moonlight, I could see the disarray. His shirt was untucked, his hair a wild mess. An empty bottle dangled from his o







