After a few hours, finally, sleep decided to visit me. I lay curled on the cold stone floor. But just as the edges of consciousness began to blur, a familiar scent pierced the stale air – a blend of cedarwood and sandalwood, a scent that sent a jolt through my body.Nicholas.I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to be a figment of my tortured imagination. But the sound of approaching footsteps, heavy and deliberate, shattered the illusion. It was then his voice that confirmed it was not my imagination.“Are you asleep?”I opened my eyes and instantly sat upright, staring at him. “W-what are you doing here?” I asked, stunned.He stopped in the cell opposite mine, leaning to the bars. The clinking of the bottle held the only sound room. He sat on the floor casually clad in casual sweatpants and a t-shirt. My gaze landed on the bottle in his hand, half-empty and held with a loose grip."Couldn't sleep," he confessed, his voice tired, "Couldn't stop thinking."I bite my lip to stop the te

My head throbbed against the cold bars, a dull ache mirroring the one that had settled permanently in my chest. It's been three days since I received that letter from my father and that hollowness in my heart still lingers. Fatigue clung to me like a second skin, and peering at the face staring back from the bars, I barely recognized the woman with swollen eyes and lifeless hair. A metallic clang echoed through the corridor, jolting me from my weary daze. The heavy metal door groaned open, revealing an unfamiliar woman with red hair. She was new. The woman was oddly familiar. Ah right. She was the woman I saw in the hallway the night when the incident with Agares happened. The woman looked at me, meeting my eyes for a second before averting her gaze. Without a word or even a flicker of acknowledgment, she put a metal tray through the small gate at the base of the door. At least these days, I am now eating 3 times a day. I didn't know what happened but I was thankful for i

"That," he said, his voice low, "holds all the evidence Florence has gathered. The password is 253675." Intrigue gripped me. A password-protected briefcase? Florence was more cautious than I thought. "She shared all of this with you?" I questioned skeptically, examining the briefcase. "She left a note with passwords for all her things. She believed it would be beneficial for someone to open the safes and vaults after her death to reveal everything." My brows knitted together at the last part. "Quite forward-thinking," I said sharply instead. Percival leaned back in his chair, a contemplative gleam in his eyes. "Florence always planned ahead, but perhaps not this time. She trusted us. She was a smart, unassuming girl who just sought care from people. Keith took advantage of her. I'm ready to face the consequences, but I request leniency for my son. He was young and merely followed my orders." "Why take such a risk for Florence?" I couldn't help but inquire. "I see her

Florence's POV The days blurred together since my last conversation with Sonya and the encounter with Percival and Quinn. Each passing day was etched onto the rough stone wall, a makeshift calendar marking my time in this wretched prison. Five became six, then seven. Each tick felt like an eternity, my worry and concern mounting with each passing moment. Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by a sound I hadn't heard in days—the approaching footsteps. The creak of the rusty hinges filled the air. I braced myself, expecting the usual guards, perhaps even Nicholas himself. But the faces that greeted me were a surprise. Clifford stood at the forefront, his usually stoic expression tinged with an unfamiliar emotion. Beside him stood Isaac, his face inscrutable. But it was the two figures at the back that truly shocked me—Layla, her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid, and Gayle, her fierce eyes softened with something akin to regret. Shock rendered me speechless. What we

Nicholas’s POV Through the office's window, I looked outside. The aroma of grilled meats and sweet pastries instantly filled the air while the lively melody competed with the lively chatter of the pack. Long tables stretched across the training grounds, filled with goods mostly meat. Lanterns adorned with intricate paper cuttings. The Moon Festival was in full swing. It is a festival that only Lycans do to look back on the time the Moon Goddess made our kind—Lycans. I stepped away from the window, pulling down the blinds. I craned my neck as exhaustion gnawed at my bones. The past few days had been a series of meetings. Coordinating with teams hunting rogue Council members, tracking down Keith's remaining experiments, and issuing orders to the packs who'd agreed to help capture them. It was a global game of cat and mouse, fueled by Florence's intel about Keith's hidden facilities. I had just showered and honestly, a refreshing shower had offered me a little relaxation whil