I wanted so badly for that to be an easy yes. I knew beyond a doubt that I wanted what was best for him, and I was not his mate. Even if I had lost faith in The Goddess, it did not mean she had forsaken him. And what of his mate? What of her? Could I add any more terrible things to my list by denying her a mate? The thought of his destined mate met me with sadness and a hot jealousy. I bet she was fucking perfect. But that’s what he deserved. He deserved true, unrelenting happiness. But it wasn’t just because of the horrible things he went through; it was because of who he was. “What of your mate?” I asked. “I told you, we made sure we didn’t get one.” I sat up and turned his arm over, tracing the outlines of that mark he and his brothers shared. It felt cold at first but then sent a jolt through me. Ezra’s eyes widened. “Whose to say you’re not my true mate, anyway?” he asked. I snorted. “I don’t think The Moon Goddess thinks that highly of me.” “Why do you say that?” “I’m w

The place was silent. Nova broke into a radiant smile, and the other werecats looked around in awe as if that power would come back. But I knew it wasn’t gone; it seeped deep into these lands. Ezra’s arm was around me, and he let out a long breath into my hair. “That was… amazing,” he whispered. “Terrifying, but amazing,” I swear he almost shuddered, but I knew it was out of worry, not terror. I motioned to the packhouse, but Nova shook her head. “The packhouse was not built by us, but there is something beneath that has belonged to our kind. I will wait until the other Alphas have left to investigate.”I ignored my curiosity for now, hoping she would share with me later. “As you wish.” ______“If you need more time, I will give you as long as you need,” I told Nolan, but I didn’t truly know if I could live up to that. “No,” He shook his head, sighing as he settled back into his father’s chair in his old office. “No, I need to do something. I don’t think I could process it right n

End him - Aksala growled and retreated to the back of my mind, waiting. Her excited rage was palpable.I walked up to my father's desk that he had the nerve to sit at. My finger brushed the familiar polished wood and pain clawed at me. This was the last part, I silently promise my mother and father. Grief had no place here, not yet. I focused instead on the sheets of paper. They started out legible, numbers that might have been accounts, a list of names, but then scribbles drowned in black ink marred the rest of the pages. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of watching him even out of the corner of my eye. It was an insult to not even watch your opponent. But I didn’t see him as one, and he knew that.When I looked up, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was staring at me with the disgust I should have worn for him. His eyes were black, skin pale and etched with those crawling inky veins. He looked and felt… wrong.“You cannot be this shocked to see me standing here,” I started. “I won’

He left a trail of blood behind him. I almost wondered if he were trying to give up; it didn't matter; his death would not be easy. So, I followed him through the packhouse, my packhouse, until his footsteps stopped. I hunted him down the hall where Ezra and I had stood previously, it was the place I was that night when I found, but those memories were only fuel for my vengeance. I want you to know that you will be erased from history entirely. Everything you hoped to have achieved, everything you wanted, was for nothing. I’ll give you some time to process that. I studied the dust through the shut windows, and the room, and…. Was he really hiding behind a curtain? The only thing you’ll be remembered for is the color in this hall I’ll have matched to your blood. I mentally calculated the height and walked towards the curtain, sticking the dagger through the fabric and, hopefully, through his manhood. The pig-like squeal I elicited from him told me I hit at least one of the m

I balked at her as much as I could in this in-between state. She gave me a half smile and a shrug. “How do we open it?” I asked. She frowned, running her hand over the stone, closing her eyes. Her lips parted as if she were connecting to something, feeling something. “It is meant to only be open one night,” she spoke softly, the normal edge in her voice completely gone. “But it has been opened numerous times.” She motioned between us at the invisible but very real the thick tangy power. “How did he do it?” I asked. “How was it supposed to be done?” I added, unsure if those questions were the same or not.“You open it with blood,” she responded.“Why does it always have to be blood?” I knew I sounded annoyed.She laughed, it was deep and rich and as beautiful and warm as she was. “Blood is powerful,” she stated. “It tells the story of those that came before us, it is filled with love and loss and history.” I swallowed. “That seems a bit elitist,” I managed.She barked another laugh