Novels by Najaatu

Sophie’s POV The black dress felt like armor. I’d chosen it carefully, it was elegant but not expensive, modest but not mousy, the kind of thing that would help me blend into the background at Richard’s funeral. But as I zipped it up and stared at my reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, I knew that blending in was impossible.Camille had seen Ethan. By now, the entire pack probably knew.“Mama, do I have to wear the tie?” Ethan appeared in the doorway, tugging at the navy blue tie I’d insisted on. He looked so grown up in his little suit, so heartbreakingly handsome with his grey eyes serious and his dark hair combed back.He looked like a Steele.“Yes, baby. Just for today.” I crouched down, adjusting the tie and smoothing his collar. “Remember what we talked about? We’re going to say goodbye to my stepfather. There will be lots of people there, and some of them might want to talk to us. Just be polite and stay close to me, okay?”“Will that mean lady be there? The one from the

Sophie’s POV Central Park in October was breathtaking. The leaves were turning, painting the trees in shades of gold and crimson, and the air had that crisp quality that I’d forgotten existed in California’s endless summer. We walked along the paths, Ethan running ahead to examine every interesting rock and leaf, and for a moment, I let myself pretend we were just tourists. Just a mother and son on vacation, with no complicated past and no terrifying future.My wolf wasn’t fooled. She was on high alert, sensing the pack boundaries we were crossing, the territorial markers that saturated the air. We were in the heart of Steele territory now, and every instinct I had was screaming at me that we were exposed, vulnerable.That he might be near.“Mama, look!” Ethan had found a hot dog cart and was staring at it with the intensity of someone who’d discovered buried treasure. “Can we get one? Please?”I laughed despite myself. “Yes, we can get one.”The vendor was human—I could tell by the

Sophie’s POV The plane descended through grey clouds, and my Soso stirred uneasily in my chest. She could sense it as we were entering Steele pack territory. Even at thirty thousand feet, the change in the air was palpable and thick with the scent of established power and old dominance.I had forgotten how suffocating it felt to be in another Alpha’s domain.“Mama, look! I can see the buildings!” Ethan pressed his face against the window, his breath fogging the glass. His excitement was pure, untainted by the dread coiling in my stomach like a living thing.He had no idea what we were flying into.I had spent the entire flight trying to prepare him, to find words that would explain without explaining too much. Your grandmother can be… difficult. The people we’re going to see, they’re complicated. Just stay close to me, okay?But how did I explain that we were walking into a pack that had cast us out? That his father didn’t know he existed? That every instinct in my body was screaming

Sophie’s POVThe words punched the air from my lungs. Soso whimpered, wanting to tell our pup the truth, to howl our grief and rage and longing to the Moon Goddess who gave us a fated mate we couldn’t have.“Lots of people have grey eyes,” I said, taking the magazine and setting it aside with hands that shook. “Come on, let’s get you dinner. I promised we’d try that new taco place, remember?”I’d gotten good at deflecting over the years, at building walls around the truth and at pretending the bond didn’t still sing in my blood, calling me back to a mate who’d rejected everything we could have been.The taco place was cheerful and loud, and Ethan chattered about his day while I nodded and smiled and tried not to think about grey eyes and broken bonds. But my dear Soso was restless, pacing beneath my skin like she could sense something coming.I saw a letter immediately we git home waiting for me. Cream-colored, with a return address that made my wolf snarl and my human heart stutter.

Sophie’s POVTell me you don’t feel it, Sophie. Tell me the bond means nothing to you.”I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal. His voice still echoed in my ears, rough and demanding, even as the afternoon light streaming through my studio windows dragged me back to reality. My cheek was stuck to my forearm, a fabric swatch pressed into my skin leaving little indentations, and my body hummed with a heat that had nothing to do with the Los Angeles sunshine.“Mama? I’m hungry.”I sucked in a sharp breath, my wolf stirring restlessly beneath my skin as I straight“ened too quickly. Ethan stood in the doorway, his small hands gripping the frame, and those grey eyes—those damn grey eyes that were a mirror of his father’s—watched me with concern that no six-year-old should have to feel.“I’m fine, sweetheart,” I managed to say, my voice rough from sleep and dreams I had no business having. Dreams that felt more like memories of my fated mate, the one bond I sh

Back at my desk I spent the afternoon trying to focus on work and mostly failing. Tuesday passed without incident, while wednesday arrived and with it my consultation with Diana Reeves.Her office was in Midtown, sixteenth floor, all clean lines and quiet authority. She was in her late forties with natural gray streaks in her dark hair and the kind of calm focused energy that made you believe she’d seen everything and nothing surprised her anymore.She listened to my entire story without interrupting once. The birthday party. The photos. Ethan throwing me out. The email about the joint accounts and the house.When I finished she was quiet for exactly five seconds.“First things first,” she said. “You have more rights than he’s implying. Significantly more.”Something unknotted in my chest. “Really?”“New York is an equitable distribution state. That means marital assets are divided fairly, not necessarily equally, but fairly. The house, the joint accounts, any investments made during

Monday morning arrived with sharp cold that reminded you winter was coming whether you were ready for it or not. I was already up at six, dressed by seven, sitting at my small desk with a cup of coffee, with my laptop opened, searching for divorce lawyers in Manhattan. The kind that were good but not so expensive that I’d burn through the last of my savings before the case even started.It was harder than I expected. Every website looked the same with professional headshots and promises of aggressive representation and confidential consultations. Words designed to make desperate people feel like they were in capable hands.I didn’t feel capable of anything right now. But I was trying.I narrowed it down to three names. All women, which felt important for reasons I couldn’t fully articulate. All with strong reviews and reasonable consultation fees. I sent emails to all three before leaving for work, explaining my situation briefly and asking for the earliest available appointment.The

The phone nearly slipped out of my hand.I read the message three more times, standing barefoot on the sidewalk outside my building, the cool concrete biting into my feet. The more I looked at the picture, the more my stomach drop a little further.*Didn’t waste any time did you? Whore.*Unknown number with nothing to identify who was on the other end.So someone has been there tonight. Sitting somewhere near that restaurant, close enough to photograph us through the window. Close enough to see Adrian’s hand cover mine, to watch me smile for the first time in weeks and decide to punish me for it.My eyes shot to the street around me instinctively. It was empty, with just parked cars and a couple walking their dog half a block away, not paying any attention to me.Whoever it was, they were already gone. Perhaps it was the same person that framed me with those pictures.I took the elevator up to my apartment with shaking hands and locked the door behind me, sliding the chain across even

Friday came faster than I expected. The week had passed in a blur of new employee training, content calendars, brand guidelines, and trying to remember everyone’s names without looking at my phone under the desk. Work was actually good. Better than good. It gave me something to focus on besides the wreckage of my personal life, somewhere to put all the energy I’d been wasting on crying and replaying those horrible birthday party moments in my head.Sarah was a good manager. Direct and no nonsense but fair, the kind of person who would told you exactly what she wanted and left you alone to deliver it. She’d already given me two projects to run independently, social media campaigns for two of Rhode Enterprises’ smaller brands, and seemed genuinely pleased with my initial ideas.“You’re picking this up fast,” she’d said on Thursday, looking over my campaign proposal. “I expected at least two weeks before you were ready for independent work.”It felt really good to hear that. Like maybe I

We stood there in her living room, me crying and her holding me, until the buzzer rang with our food delivery.Natalie ordered me to wash my face while she got the food. By the time I came out of the bathroom with puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks, she had everything laid out on her coffee table. Pad thai, spring rolls, and curry that smelled amazing.I wasn’t hungry, but I forced myself to eat. Natalie was right, I needed to keep my strength up.“Marcus wants to meet with you,” Natalie said, spooning curry onto her plate. “He has questions about people in your life. Anyone who might have access to photos of you, anyone with technical skills, anyone who might have a motive.”“When?”“This weekend if you’re free. Saturday maybe?”I nodded, pushing noodles around my plate. “Did you hear back from Ethan? About meeting for coffee?”Natalie’s expression tightened. “Yeah. He said no.”“Of course he did.”“He was actually kind of rude about it. Said he had nothing to say to me and I should stop

I didn’t wait until I got home to call Natalie back. The second I stepped out of the building onto the Fifth Avenue, I hit redial, pressing the phone against my ear hard enough to hurt, but who cares?The street was packed with people rushing home from work, a river of suits and briefcases and exhaustion flowing around me.Pick up, pick up, pick up.“Ivy.” Natalie answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”“Just left work. What did Marcus find? What’s wrong?”“Are you somewhere you can talk? Like actually talk?”My stomach dropped. “Nat, you’re scaring me.”“I know. I’m sorry. But this isn’t a phone conversation. Can you come over?”“Now?”“Yeah. Please. I’ll order food. We can eat while we talk.”I looked at the subway entrance, then in the direction of Queens where my empty apartment waited. I didn’t want to go home, and sit alone with whatever bomb Natalie was about to drop.“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” I said.The subway ride to Natalie’s neighborhood felt endless. My mind