Dame Alina Kotlc Novels & Stories

That flash of amusement that didn’t reach her eyes. She held the wineglass wrong. Or maybe right. Alina always said the stems were for balance, not elegance. Kaia held it the same way. “Fuck,” I breathe, gripping the edge of the desk. My knuckles are white. No. It can’t be. Alina is dead. She’s dead. I saw the report. Saw the blood. But… did I? I pull open my drawer, find my phone, and open my messages. Damien Voss.

Not even to her. He was already completely hers. That damned pig’s. And because of that, Natália needed to act. Before the council realized that Dmitry was no longer the Alpha they knew. She picked up the mansion’s landline and dialed a number that should never be used. “This is Natália Kovalenko. We need to talk about Anatolie Rurik.” Silence on the other side. Then a deep voice answered: “The terms are the same.”

Eden asked. “Or human sacrifices.” Suddenly, a door slammed open across the chamber—and the woman who entered moved like liquid danger. Alina Dormer. She wore white, her dark hair bound in braids like a crown. Her eyes found Eden instantly. “I was wondering when you’d come.” Eden stepped forward. “Your sister’s dead. You’re next.” Alina’s lips curved in a smile—cold, regal. “Oh, darling. Valeska was the decoy. I’m the real blade.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. The longer he plays his part, the better for us.” Damien rolled up the map. “Alina’s heading to the eastern trail tonight. Alone.” “What?” Leon snapped. “Is she out of her damn mind?” “It’s her idea,” Damien replied. “She wants Viktor to believe she’s vulnerable, shaken. A perfect opportunity for him to strike.” “She’s using herself as bait?” Leon growled. I exhaled heavily. “Yes.” He turned to me, incredulous. “And you agreed to this?” “I didn’t like it,” I said. “But I’m not going to stop her. Not when she’s right.”

Damien I couldn’t see. Not clearly. Not at first. Everything was just... black. Like the inside of a coffin—silent, cold, endless. And then I heard her. “Damian… Damian, please…” Her voice was broken, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. Alina. Goddess, that was Alina. Was I dreaming? Dead? I couldn’t tell, but the moment I felt her lips on mine—soft, desperate, trembling—I knew I wasn’t in hell.