11. I'll protect you Kathrine's POV Ever since that moment Israel Babbiani's mouth fell on mine, the fire of protest died down within me. I was weak like a newborn infant and my mouth went to mute mode. I agreed to do everything my parents asked of me. I wore clothes they thought suited my petite frame and learned to do my hair as seductively as it would be needed of me once I shifted to my master's house. I don't know what happened to me, but a look in his black and white eyes was enough to understand the hell was going to be hotter than I anticipated. And escaping the devil of it would be impossible. I was learning to accept the fate that was lying ahead of me. The only good that came to surface was that I was spared from occasional beatings from my father. Asher's sexual assaults had a line of limit drawn before them. He could no longer touch me. Nor could anyone lay a finger or lusty gaze on me since Babbiani said I was ripe and ready to be his. I was also relieved that he

13. Trying to feel normal Kathrine's POV Fury blazed in my gaze as I held back the urge to kick his ass. I knew where it was coming from. Since he's been prohibited to touch me, he was trying to do it one last time before I was out of his reach. It never happened before and it wouldn't happen now. I showed him a middle finger as I suppressed my growing rage. One person losing his shit in this house at the moment was enough. So I remained composed but Aaren freed my hold off his arm and lunged toward Asher. Holding him by the back of his neck, my brother hurled him in the room, "I have tolerated you enough in our house, mother fucker, not anymore." He made a beeline towards Asher to pick him up, only to get a punch in return. Asher grunted, "Do you see it, Alpha? Kathrine's name is enough to rile him up. Your whorish daughter has done more damage to your once loyal son than we can imagine." "I'

15. The one sided war Rogue's POV Fuck cars. I took my private jet to Yakima with Yurii's Bentley full of ammo that same night to scratch the stupid bikers' itch. Yurii was filled with uncontainable joy when we met at the airport. He had always been waiting for this moment. To use his ammunition and to show he could kick asses better than handling them in my casinos. Have I shared it before that he is the one who keeps a check on the smooth conduction of businesses within my casinos all over Washington? Huge like hulk, Yurii has a tendency to make people pee in their pants just at his one glare. That being said, he is stationed at the casinos to deal with stupid fuckers even though his ultimate desire to work as an enforcer. "You can collect their broken limbs if you want to add to your collection." I spoke as I watched Yurii impatiently cleaning his blade and axe. With a click of his tongue he smirked at me, "I am looking forward to collecting different eyeballs. Blue. Black.

17. A blast Rogue's POV I turned to my left and quirked an eyebrow at Igor, 'So you were saying I'm not safe in the city!' I spoke, making sure I sounded cynical even on the link. He was enjoying the company of the bikers, who called themselves The Drifters. Not to mention that they welcomed us royally with loud hooting and some shots fired from their guns in the air. I was given a special treatment and called a king. The clubhouse's whores were plucked from the bed of whomever they were entertaining and presented to me. I refused them with a smile but relaxed myself and accepted the alcohol I was presented with. It was homemade, they said, but whatever it was it tasted good. Igor grinned sheepishly as he raised his glass of whiskey, 'The Drifters are different. Calling them clever would be fair. They know who to respect and keep distance from, and who to mess with. You fall in the former list.' 'But weren't you skeptical about me visiting them? All bikers are nasty. Didn't you

19. Her Grave Rogue's POV I was filled with enrage to my very toes, my breathing coming out warm like a dragon's breath before it spits fire. It was hard to come to terms that the survivors of Venturi used the son of one of the Alphas who have vowed their loyalty to me with an Omertà. They wouldn't do it unless the guy was involved some or the other way with them. None of them was alive so I had no way to find out if this guy was one of the members of The Venturi. My first instinct was to take him to Seattle and throw him in the torture cellar until he rot there of starvation and daily punishment. My men would kiss the ground I walk on and be cheerful for as long as there is any ounce of life left in him that can be tortured. But then I assessed the wounds on his body. The burn marks were caused using a hot rod or another metal object. He was already so tortured that he could barely stand on his legs without quivering. Punishing a half-dead person is not as satisfying as punishing