The Forsaken Novel Novels & Stories

And each step feeling like you are crossing a battlefield towards the enemy that killed someone you love. Fenrir is silent, watching and waiting. I reach the vehicle, gripping the edge of the tarp, the fabric is rough under my gloves, and it is damp with years of neglect. For a second, my hand hesitates. Then I rip it off. The sound of tarp rolling through the yard. As I let the tarp collapse to the floor. And the monster underneath it finally reveals itself, the Collins - series Obsidian, black, massive looking like a predator itself.

Inside was a single object, bound in a frost-coated bark, etched with the golden spiral. It pulsed once in his hand and then went still. And the cathedral listened. Kieran opened the book and read out loud: “Those who read this book have already been damned. When you pass through those doors of how you so crave, it shall be your demise in the true self of you. For you shall see it, the thing that is everything.” Kieran gulped as he carried on reading.

Damian felt a warning, a sense that something was off. Damian crouched down, his senses becoming more alert. The air seemed to shift. He felt a presence, faint but there. It was closer now. His jaw tightened. Before he could say anything, the body moved. A low unnatural sound filled the air. This sound was wrong. It made every instinct in Damian's body go on high alert. The warriors around him stumbled back shocked by what they were seeing. "What the…" one of them started to say. Then the body began to change. Bones shifted, not breaking but reforming. The skin rippled and fur started to spread across it. This was not a shift, not the kind they knew. It was not. It was not alive. This was so

Chapter 1: Sold to the Alpha Elara's POV I slammed the heavy iron door behind me. The cold of the stone floor bit through the thin soles of my shoes. My fingers trembled as I wrapped the threadbare shawl tighter around my shoulders. Suffocating silence filled the manor, and I knew I was late. Darius would be furious.

“You think this matters? You’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet.” I squatted low. “Then educate me.” He laughed, a weak, broken thing. “You think this fortress is your weapon. It’s your tomb.” I slammed his head against the floor. “Wrong answer.” Jared didn’t flinch. Damon stood behind him, eyes burning. “She’s right,” Damon growled. “We were never meant to survive this.” I turned slowly. “Speak plainly.” He met my gaze. “There’s more. We didn’t just find spies. We found sigils carved into the inner foundations. Old runes. Blood runes. The kind that summon the Forsaken.”

he said coldly before walking away. I stared at his back as he walked away from me before sniffling into the handkerchief and it had his scent on it. It was calming but it couldn't take away the hurt in my heart. I trudged home, tears streaming down my face. As a Forsaken, I was no stranger to heartache. Our kind was abandoned by the Moon goddess, left to suffer in silence and be mistreated. We forsaken were the least in the pack and often referred to as low grade. Forsakens were a breed of omegas that didn't go through heat, but I was probably the only exception, except that I had kept it a secret.

Each gesture is subtle, yet obvious: a man clearly drawn to the woman before him, taking careful, patient steps to make his feelings known. I give it no thought, no consideration. All I hear is the same lie and empty promises Varyn once fed me, all to claim my body. I say to myself twice: Forsaken will kill me. And yet, each day, I picture what a ravaging test Rauth will be.

But what kind of luck leaves you forgotten? What kind of Luna lies rotting in a bed while the pack dances under the moon? I used to count the days. I used to believe I’d get better. That giving birth to a child too powerful for my body didn't break me forever. That maybe—just maybe—he’d come visit and tell me he missed me. I wonder if he still calls me mama. Now I count the seconds between doses. The space between breaths. The dwindling hope that I'd get my wolf back.

The man collapsed, blood soaking the stone as he extended a bloodied scroll. Keira rushed to help him while Aria unfurled the parchment. It was Thorne’s handwriting. Jagged. Rushed. A trail of smeared blood over the final word. “Don’t trust anyone. It was never just the Forsaken. –T” Her breath caught. The air in the room turned razor-sharp. Keira rose slowly, pale as ash. “What does he mean ‘never just the Forsaken’?” Aria folded the note with shaking hands. “It means someone inside these walls betrayed him.”

"How does a bastard born from a whore deserve to be my son?" Then, he turned to Francis and Bella, roaring, "Your beloved 'socialite' daughter got knocked up by some other man! Her baby is the bastard!" Glaring at the couple, he continued, "And the one you drove to its death was the true heir of the Hurst bloodline! Helen was pregnant with my son! My heir!" Silence fell over the room. Only the crying of the newborn child broke it. Francis' and Bella's faces turned a deathly white.