LOGINCORALINA'S POV
After a long time, I sleep without being haunted by dreams.
I wake up to silence. The bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and I realise with surprise that I've slept for almost twelve hours straight.
Ignoring the pending messages and calls, I roll out of bed and step in for a shower. I'm making coffee and scrambled eggs for breakfast when my phone screen lights up again.
It’s the ‘family’ group chat, with Maximus, Brielle and me– their third wheel.
Brielle’s message glows there, posted an hour ago.
[Good morning, all! What a beautiful day! I’m craving those delicate lavender shortbread cookies with edible silver leaf. And maybe a truffle omelette, while they bake! Remember, Coralina, I’m allergic to bell peppers! Xoxo]
Then another one from a few minutes ago.
[Is it going to take long? I'm feeling peckish.]
I stare at the screen in disbelief.
But then again, I let it happen for so long…
I remember, I spent weeks testing that cookie recipe, just for Maximus. I used to leave them in his office like a secret gift, along with his afternoon tea. He never said a word, but the tray always came back empty.
I thought he liked them, until I stumbled on Brielle's I*******m.
She had posted a photo of my cookies on a plate by her bed.
[He brought me my favorite treats! It's an honor to be loved by someone who knows me so well.]
He hadn’t eaten a single one… he had taken the whole tray to her.
Eventually, they became more and more shameless. First, she wanted an extra share of the herbal tea to soothe her stomach, and this drama ended up with a formal, bulleted list in a newly formed group chat: Daily nutritional requirements for Brielle, which read like a corporate memo.
Quail eggs, specific heirloom tomatoes, imported sea salt. Bell peppers, of course, were strictly prohibited.
I refused immediately, of course.
[My responsibilities as Luna do not extend to personal chef duties. The pack employs excellent culinary staff, Miss. Brielle, please share this list with them.]
Within seconds, she had replied to the group chat.
[Luna, I can understand. It’s fine, Maximus, really. I’m just… I’m not worthy of such consideration.]
Maximus stormed over in minutes, his Alpha scent heavy and aggressive.
“Apologize to Brielle! She’s dying, Coralina. Stop being a bitch and show some compassion.”
I tried to explain how disrespectful it was, considering our ranks, even though it shouldn't have been necessary. But I was the one who got lectured in return.
“Your tone is disrespectful. Your lack of compassion is disgraceful, especially considering your rank as Luna!”
He hadn’t listened, he never did. The truth was irrelevant next to the comfort of his first love.
From then on, even if my schedule was jam packed with meetings, my workday was perpetually interrupted at 3PM.
If the tray of food was late, the weeping would begin, and I would be confronted with Maximus’s disapproval and anger through the mind-link. “You’re trying to starve her.”
Every time, I was reminded of how petty I was, how cruel for not following her instructions perfectly. But I didn’t apologize then, and I’m definitely not doing it now.
I pick up my phone and type a reply directly into the group chat.
[You were right back then, you really aren’t worthy of my food or my consideration. Get it yourself.]
I hit send and immediately leave the group.
As expected, my phone rings within minutes. I answer, but I don't say a word.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He snarls. “Brielle is in tears. She fainted after reading that. Do you have any idea what that could do to her condition? Do you want her blood on your hands?”
There is no point to arguing.
And so, I hang up and block him.
The action which I thought would shatter me from inside out, feels nothing more than a simple tap now.
I grab the suitcase I packed last night. I take my passport, my tablet, and the clothes I bought with my own money. I leave the designer gowns and the jewelry Maximus bought to introduce me as his Luna.
They can stay in the closet, meant for his true Luna.
When I stand up and reach for my bag, a sharp pain stabs through my abdomen. I lean against the wall, my vision going blurry.
No matter how strong I'm trying to be, my body hasn't recovered well enough to co-operate with the pace.
At the hospital, the nurse quietly checks my stitches.
“You’re healing physically, but you can't rush the recovery. Give yourself some time and rest, Luna.”
I nod obediently, although I have no intentions of stopping or resting any time soon.
I go to the front desk to settle the bill, and slide the platinum card Maximus gave me across the counter.
“I’m sorry, Luna.”
The clerk says, looking embarrassed. “This card has been flagged. It won't go through.”
At that exact moment, his voice booms in my head through our mind-link.
“Dare to block me again, and see what happens! Stop this tantrum, Coralina. As long as you refuse to apologize to Brielle, you won’t get a single cent. You better learn your place, and quickly.”
I snap out of the dizziness, feeling like hot anger is flowing in my veins.
Does he really think that I'm at his mercy?
With huffing breaths, I pull up contact for Elias Thorn, a lawyer who handles inter-pack commercial disputes.
I type quickly.
[Coralina here. I need your counsel regarding unpaid wages for five years of corporate and strategic work for Silver Lake Holdings.]
The reply is almost instant.
[Luna Coralina, under the Unified Pack Law, a Luna’s labor is considered conjoined with the Alpha’s. It’s a spousal duty, not employment. To sue for wages, you’d first need to legally sever the Luna bond.]
It’s a catch-22. I can't reject Maximus, being of a lower rank than him. If I do, I might lose my life.
And I can't depend on Maximus to agree for the divorce so that I can sue him back.
I clench the phone, feeling my frustration rising.
The trap is cruel. My work built his empire, and the law they wrote says I was just being a wife.
I have to sort this out. But first, the hospital bills need to be settled.
I look down at the five-carat diamond on my left hand, and something clicks.
I ask the receptionist for some time, and walk straight into a pawn shop three blocks from the hospital.
“How much?”
I ask the man behind the glass.
He names a price that’s barely a third of what it’s worth, especially since it's a custom designer piece.
But I don't bother enough to haggle.
It's just a piece of stone, after all. I take the cash, pay the hospital bill, and tuck the rest of the bills into my pocket.
This is my only safety net for now.
I hail a cab.
“Where to?”
“The border crossing at Westgate.”
The cab rolls to a stop at the massive iron gates of the Silver Lake territory. Two guards, betas I recognize from the security rotation, approach for routine inspection.
Their expressions are polite, but look confused when they see me in the back seat.
“Luna? We need a clearance code from the Alpha for you to pass.”
I don't say a word to explain myself.
I just hold up my phone and show him the single-time-use access code that Clyde sent last night, sealed by a black crest: a mountain peak under a silver moon.
The guard’s face goes pale. He scans it with his own device, and it chimes as the gate unlocks.
He steps back, his eyes full of fear.
“Clear passage. Safe travels… Luna Coralina.”
The gates swing open.
The manor is ten minutes outside the border, nestled in the dark pines that belong to no pack, a neutral zone.
It is elegant and formidable, built of dark stone. Above the monumental doors hangs the Nightfall Crest: a mountain peak under a sliver of moon.
It belongs to the boy whom the previous Luna– Maximus' grandmother– threw to the rogues, hoping the wolves would pick his bones clean so that her own bloodline would stay on the throne.
She assumed he would die before his own wolf could even manifest. Instead, Clyde tamed the monsters, turning a pack of rabid rogues into an army of warriors. He rose as the most powerful Alpha on the continent, annexing all Northern territories until the family had no choice but to 'welcome' him back to save the skin on their own backs.
Alpha Clyde…
My heart gives a thud.
I take the first step towards the front gate, knowing that I am stepping into dangerous territory, where I'll have to keep my guards high at all times.
But for now, it is my only option.
I cross the threshold.
CORALINA'S POV The tropical humidity trapped within the private cocoon of Clyde’s shadow-aura thrums with a heavy, protective static, shielding my skin from the toxic atmosphere of the crypt. Behind me, the massive, broad-shouldered mountain of muscle that is my mate remains anchored to my flank, his long bronze arms locked around my waist with an unyielding, frantic possessiveness. His breath hits my neck in hot, concussive pulses, his inner beast still vibrating with the feral aftermath of the illusion that tried to break me. But the phantom of the helpless stray is dead, thoroughly dissolved by the sovereign weight of his devotion and the amnesia resolution that has permanently locked my mind into place. I look at the ancient blood-altar before us, its deeply grooved basalt columns weeping that liquid emerald light, pumping the toxic curse up through the mountain vents. The high-pitched, parasitic frequency of the relic continues to claw at the air, a desperate attempt by the pu
CORALINA'S POV The ancient blood-altar hums with a parasitic, high-pitched frequency that tears at the very fabric of my consciousness. The liquid emerald light pooling in its basalt grooves bubbles like boiling acid, pumping thick, suffocating plumes of the poisonous curse up into the stone vents of the keep. The stench of it is overwhelming—a sour, decaying odor designed to choke the lineage of the hearth-fire at its absolute roots. I take a step toward the twisted stone, my obsidian claws still extended, glowing with the gold-and-violet heat of my stabilized core. But as I raise my right hand to unleash the final, destructive parameters of my fire, the emerald vortex above the altar violently fractures. The green mist doesn't just swirl; it solidifies, warping the air into a shimmering, distorted mirror that inflicts a sudden, devastating psychological torment. From the heart of the corrupted fog, a figure materializes. My heart drops into a freezing chasm as I look upon the ph
CORALINA'S POV The definitive, echoing clank of the titanium vault doors sealing our son away in the absolute roots of the mountain still vibrates through the soles of my bare feet as Clyde and I sprint back up the twisting basalt staircases. The air grows progressively thicker, turning into a foul, suffocating soup as we ascend. The ancient ancestral curse has completely breached the middle keeps, filling the grand corridors with a rolling, emerald-tinted fog that clings to the ancient masonry like luminous moss. It smells of stagnant swamp water, rusted iron, and the sour, corrupted musk of wolves who have perverted their own bloodlines to fulfill a fanatical prophecy. Through our sacred mate-bond, the pressure is a living, thrashing beast. Clyde’s parental terror has not faded; it has sublimated into a pure, unadulterated warlord madness that expands his shadow-aura into a massive, thirty-foot silhouette of pitch-black lightning. We burst through the grand gallery doors just as
CORALINA'S POV The taste of victory on the mountain is always short-lived, replaced too quickly by the metallic tang of new blood. We had returned from the unmapped Northern Tundra with the submission of the white-wolf legions still echoing through our pack-bond. The grand courtyard of the Frost-Hearth was alive with the celebratory roars of a unified continent, and for a fleeting, beautiful afternoon, the high spire felt like a true sanctuary. Our son, Aiden, had shifted back into his human form, sleeping soundly in the deep hollow of the sea-bear furs while Clyde and I stood guard, our synchronized frequencies humming in a flawless, permanent equilibrium of shadow and flame. But peace is a fragile parameter in the territories, and the old ways do not die without a final, desperate attempt to bleed the living. It happens just as the twilight begins to stain the snowdrifts a bruised, deep indigo. Without a single warning from our border scouts, the ancestral warning stones linin
CORALINA'S POV The metallic tang of ancient blood cools rapidly in the subterranean amphitheater, dissolving into the dense, humid plumes of white geothermal steam rising from the ruins of the Glacial Pool. At the base of the shattered black throne, Fenrir’s limp human form lies completely still, his prehistoric hides stained crimson, his ancient glacial musk evaporating into the lavender heat radiating from my skin. The silence that follows the death of a myth is a heavy, physical pressure. I stand at the center of the basalt floorboards, my dark silk robe damp with sweat and boiling spray, my permanent gold-and-violet eyes flashing with a cold, absolute sovereign clarity. Beside me, Clyde has shifted back into his human form mid-stride, his massive, broad-shouldered frame heaving as he takes deep, ragged breaths of the humid air. His bare bronze chest is splattered with the blood of the execution, his muscles locked into rigid bands of granite. The controlled, unyielding em
CORALINA'S S POV The thick, tropical steam rising from the boiling ruins of the Glacial Pool swirls around the obsidian pillars, turning the ancient subterranean amphitheater into a humid, suffocating greenhouse. The Tundra Elders remain on their knees in the warm slush, their foreheads pressed against the basalt floorboards in total, terrified submission to the majesty of my stabilized hearth-fire. But at the apex of the room, standing before the jagged black throne, Fenrir refuses to bend. His milky-white, blind eyes roll back into his weathered skull, his lips pulling away from his silver fangs in a grotesque, mocking snarl. The intense scent of his ancient, glacial Alpha musk spikes to a desperate, suffocating density, trying to claw through the lavender heat radiating from my skin. "The elders are old and easily blinded by a researcher’s parlor trick!" Fenrir’s voice booms through the cavern, a deep, grinding bass that sounds like a tectonic fault line tearing open. He does n
CORALINA'S POV The forest is talking to me, but its voice is becoming garbled.I am running, my bare feet hitting the moss with a rhythm that feels ancient, a drumbeat of blood and survival. I am close. I can feel the Stag; its presence is a cool shimmer in the air, smelling of winter ozone and cr
CORALINA'S POV The man stands before me, naked and painted in the dark, hot blood of the wolves he just dismantled. I can feel the vibration of his power humming in the air, a heavy, suffocating pressure that tastes of rain and ancient stone. He is massive—a monolith of bronze skin and hard muscle
CLYDE'S POV The stench of Silas is a rot that poisons the mountain air. It’s the smell of a scavenger who thinks he’s found a buffet—a masterless female and a fresh kill. From my position in the darkness, I watch as he stalks into the silver light of the clearing, his mangy grey fur bristling. Beh
CLYDE'S POV I don’t wait for the Seer to finish her riddles. I don’t even wait for the blood on my lip to dry. I turn toward the jagged archway of the grotto and lunge into the night, the sheer force of my exit sending a spray of salt water against the ancient stone.The world outside is a graveya







