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55 Capítulos

Owed Again

Thursday morning came like any other. Pale light filtered through the tall windows, painting streaks across the marble floors as the pack house stirred to life. Ryleigh moved silently through the corridors, her soft-soled shoes making no sound as she climbed the staircase toward the Luna’s suite. The key weighed heavily in her apron pocket, like a secret threatening to slip free. She paused at the door, heart fluttering. Not from nerves—but from memory. The memory of what had happened the day before in the Luna’s closet. The heat. The closeness. Damien. Her cheeks warmed despite herself. She took a breath to steady her thoughts and unlocked the door with a soft click. The suite welcomed her in silent elegance. No light, no sound, no sign of the encounter that had nearly stolen her sanity in that narrow walk-in closet. No lingering scent, no scattered clothes—nothing but perfect order. Still, she got to work. Ryleigh moved with purpose, redusting spotless surfaces, smoothing out

In the Stillness of Night

Ryleigh sat on the edge of her narrow bed, the quiet of her room pressing in like a second skin. The day had been long, her legs sore, her thoughts heavier than ever. The overhead light cast a dull glow against the pale cream walls—bare, cold, and impersonal. The only splash of life in the room was the modest blanket folded neatly at the foot of her bed and the small wooden nightstand beside her.She pulled out her phone for the second time today.Three messages from Derek.Her heart skipped as she opened them, reading slowly, savoring each word as though it had weight.Derek: I miss you. I keep thinking about you. In a few days, I’ll be heading to Brazil. The sickness is spreading faster than we thought. It’s getting worse.Please be safe. I’m going to reach out to Damien first thing—he needs to know what’s coming.She frowned, rereading the last line. Contact Damien? That didn’t sound good. If it was urgent enough to involve the Alpha, things were more serious than she realized.She

A Quiet Rebellion

The soft hum of the washer filled the laundry room, blending with the rhythmic thump of the dryer in the corner. The scent of lavender detergent filled the warm air, familiar and clean, but Ryleigh no longer found comfort in it. It smelled like routine. Like captivity disguised as order. Her hands moved over the linens with methodical precision, folding, smoothing, stacking. The motions were automatic by now, as natural as breathing. But her mind was far away—circling the same silent weight that had followed her every step since Margaret Blackthorn slipped her that check like it was a gift. She hadn’t shown anyone. Hadn’t spoken a word of it to Natalia or Derek. She’d kept it buried at the bottom of her purse like a secret grenade. But lately, she’d felt it ticking. A fuse slowly burning down. One hundred thousand dollars. It wasn’t just a sum. It was an insult and an offer all in one. A tidy little payoff for a lifetime of silence. A bribe wrapped in clean paper and perfectly scr

Into the Quiet

Ryleigh stood at the small bathroom sink, her toothbrush lazily working back and forth as she stared into the mirror. Her hazel eyes stared back—wider, more alert than usual. Beneath the sleepy puffiness, there was something steely. Something sure.This was the day.She spat, rinsed, and wiped her mouth with a towel, studying herself. There was no magic spark, no sudden transformation—but she could feel it. The invisible shift inside her. She was about to do something Margaret Blackthorn hadn’t seen coming.And Ryleigh couldn't wait.The house was quiet as expected. It was still early—just after sunrise. No footsteps echoed in the grand halls, no distant clangs of kitchenware or voices drifting through the stairwell. But she knew the others were awake. Working. Quiet little shadows who moved before anyone else rose from their featherbeds.She was one of them… but not today.She slipped out of her sleepwear and tugged on a pair of soft black joggers, a fitted white undershirt, and a gr

Pieces of the Past

The moment Ryleigh stepped inside the library, the world shifted.It smelled like old paper and wood polish, with a faint sweetness of dried lavender drifting from somewhere unseen. The interior was a blend of cozy and grand—soft light streaming through tall windows, rows of worn bookshelves stretching from wall to wall, and arched ceiling beams stained a deep mahogany. It felt sacred. Quiet. Heavy with time.Books lined every corner—some thin and colorful, some ancient with cracked spines and gold lettering barely clinging to the covers. To the right, a large reading area with plush armchairs surrounded a low fireplace, its mantle stacked with historical fiction and romance novels. To the left, framed photographs of pack founders lined the walls, beneath a sign that read: Black Hollow Legacy, Preserved in Ink.She could’ve spent hours just standing there, soaking it in.But she had come with a purpose.Ryleigh walked softly across the floor, her shoes making barely a sound on the smo

The Shadow Between the Trees

The leather-bound record book let out a soft thud as Ryleigh gently closed it and returned it to the shelf. She traced her fingers along the spine before stepping back and letting out a soft breath. There was something sacred about the library—something that smelled like ink, time, and forgotten stories.As she walked out of the pack records room, the shift in atmosphere was almost jarring. The main section of the library was bright and open, lined wall to wall with shelves of books—some polished and new, others so old their pages curled and crackled like autumn leaves. Dust floated in the air, caught in streams of afternoon sunlight pouring through tall arched windows. It was peaceful here… almost like the world outside didn’t exist.Ryleigh wandered through the aisles, her fingers brushing the spines as she passed. For a brief moment, she wasn’t a servant, or a secret, or a girl tangled between two brothers. She was just a reader—hungry for escape.She paused when her eyes landed on

The Taste of Fire

Ryleigh didn’t breathe as the massive dark brown wolf stared at her, silent and unmoving beneath the canopy of the forest. Its golden eyes didn’t blink. Its chest rose and fell with slow control, every breath like thunder to her ears. She waited—frozen—until her lungs began to burn.When the wolf made no move to lunge or growl, some of the panic began to loosen from her chest. It just stood there, watching. Then, without warning, it rose to all fours and began to circle the tree she sat under—her tree. Their tree.She turned her head to follow its movement, her muscles locked in place. It padded around the trunk once… then again. The sheer size of it became clearer with each pass. Shoulders higher than her waist, paws as large as her hands. Power rippled beneath its dark coat as it sniffed the air around her. Once, it paused directly in front of her, nose lifted, gaze unblinking. She held her breath, every nerve lit with alarm.Then it moved again.Another slow circle.What are you do

Claimed by Guilt

Ryleigh sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers digging into the comforter as the events of the afternoon played over and over in her mind. The trees. The clearing. The massive wolf. And then… Damien.Damien.She clenched her jaw and stared at the floor, feeling the same rush of heat and confusion that had overwhelmed her earlier. The way he emerged from the trees, bare and unapologetic, like sin wrapped in flesh. His voice, smooth and commanding. The way he touched her. Looked at her. Wanted her.And the way he stopped.She had told him the truth. That she was with Derek. And in that moment, something in Damien’s face had changed. He hadn’t lashed out. He hadn’t growled or shown his dominance. But the tension had been there, thick in the air, wrapped around them like vines threatening to strangle her. He had walked away, his expression unreadable, but the power in his steps made it clear—he was still Alpha.Which meant he could take everything from her if he wanted to.Ryleigh rubbed

The Week Without Answers

MondayThe week began with silence.Ryleigh had expected to see Damien somewhere—at breakfast, passing through the hall, pacing outside of his office like he sometimes did. But there was no trace of him. His absence was a whisper through the walls, a presence that should have been there but wasn’t. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or unsettled.She hadn’t heard from Derek all weekend. That morning, as she wiped down the long dining room table, she checked her phone behind a candelabra. Still nothing.She tried calling him, holding her breath as the line rang and rang… until his voicemail picked up. She listened to his voice just to hear it, then hung up without leaving a message. Something about it felt wrong. Derek always called back.As she polished silverware in the kitchen, Margaret swept in, her heels clicking sharply across the marble.“You missed a spot,” she barked, without even looking.Ryleigh didn’t respond. She just scrubbed harder, the silence between her and Dere

Vanished

Sunday morning dawned gray and still, the air unusually thick and quiet. Ryleigh moved through the kitchen slowly, her limbs leaden, her heart heavier than it had been all week. She hadn’t slept much—every time she closed her eyes, she imagined Derek alone in Brazil, sick, or worse, unconscious in some hospital bed with no phone.She stirred sugar into a cup of tea, the soft clink of the spoon the only sound in the quiet house.And then it happened.A door slammed upstairs, followed by hurried, uneven footsteps. The sound of sobbing. Shouting.Ryleigh turned toward the hallway, setting the spoon down.“No, no, no—this can’t be right!” Margaret’s voice shrieked from the upper floor. “Find him! Now!”Ryleigh’s breath caught in her throat.She rushed to the archway just as the towering front doors opened, and one of the estate guards was already running out across the gravel. Margaret stood at the top of the stairs, her long salt and pepper hair wild, a silk robe wrapped over her gown as

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