LOGINJasmina Lesvendstrong's coronation dream shatters when Alpha Damoew Herstrong publicly rejects her, choosing her best friend Arlene as Luna instead. Pregnant and accused of murder when Damoew is found dead, Jasmina faces execution in fourteen days. But Damoew isn't dead—he's under a spell. Arlene isn't who she claims. She's the Witch Queen's daughter, orchestrating revenge that will destroy every werewolf bloodline through the ancient Lycan Vault. With Damoew's supposedly dead mother and a rebellious guard as allies, Jasmina must save her baby, expose Arlene's genocide plan, and break the compulsion magic controlling her mate. The vault demands blood. The spell demands sacrifice. And Jasmina must decide: save the Alpha who rejected her, or let him burn. But letting him burn means killing all werewolves. Meaning no more histories (stories) of werewolves. So come with me let’s help Jasmina make a right choice.’
View More"I, Damoew Herstrong, Alpha of the Strong Black Clan, reject you as my mate and Luna."
Jasmina heard the words but couldn't process them. She stood at the edge of the coronation platform, watching Damoew pull Arlene Swinkstrong into a kiss that made the entire hall go silent. Arlene's fingers tangled in his hair. Her body pressed against his like she belonged there. The mate bond tore. Jasmina felt it rip through her chest, a physical wound that no one else could see. Her wolf screamed inside her, clawing to get out, to fight, to make him remember what they were supposed to be. But Damoew didn't even look at her. "This woman," he announced, his arm around Arlene's waist, "is stronger, smarter, and more worthy of leading beside me. Jasmina Lesvendstrong is weak. She's always been weak." The crowd erupted. Elders shouted in protests. Pack members who'd known Jasmina since childhood stared in shock. Hardy Armstrong, the oldest elder, stepped forward with his staff raised. "Alpha, this violates sacred law! The mate bond cannot be…" "I am the law," Damoew cut him off. His eyes flashed gold. "Anyone who questions me can join Jasmina in exile." Hardy's mouth snapped shut. Jasmina's hands shook. Since two months, she had kept the secret, waiting for the right moment, waiting for today when everything was supposed to be perfect. She'd imagined telling him after the coronation, watching his face light up when she showed him the healer's confirmation. With all the pains and ache, she managed and slowly stepped forward. "I'm pregnant." Jasmina yelled. The hall went dead quiet. Damoew's face twisted with shock. Then it turns to rage. "You think a bastard child will change anything?" He stalked toward her, and Jasmina's wolf whimpered. Her mate had never looked at her like this—like she was prey. "That thing dies the moment it's born. I want it dead before it takes its first breath." Jasmina stumbled backward. "It's your heir. Your…" "It's nothing." Damoew turned to the guards stationed at the platform's edge. "Theo Walstrong. Take her to the servants' quarters. Starting tomorrow, Jasmina Lesvendstrong works for this pack like any other omega. She cleans, she serves, and she keeps her mouth shut." Theo, barely twenty years old, looked between them with wide eyes. "Alpha, she's…" "Did I stutter?" Theo grabbed Jasmina's arm. His grip was gentle, but it didn't matter. The crowd parted as he led her away, their faces filled with pity. Arlene's laughter followed her all the way down the hall. With her saying’’’ “Does she think she will be coronated.” And her laughter echoed out. “I’m the rightful person to be crowned as the Luna, and my lover her…. The Alpha.” Jasmina stopped listening and told the guard to help her move faster. The servants' quarters smelled like mildew. Theo brought her to a small room at the end of the corridor—barely large enough for a cot and a wooden chest. There was no window, not even a single candle on the floor. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, then left before she could respond. Jasmina sat on the cot. The thin mattress offered no comfort. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling the slight curve that nobody else had noticed yet. Two months along. The healer had confirmed it, he had also promised to keep the secret until Jasmina was ready to tell Damoew. She'd wanted it to be special. She wanted to see him smile the way he used to when they were younger, before he became Alpha, before everything changed. And now, he wanted their child dead. The door opened again hours later. An older woman with graying hair entered, carrying folded uniforms. "You start tomorrow," the woman said, dropping the clothes on the chest. "Kitchen duty first. You'll scrub pots until your hands bleed, then you'll move to the laundry. Meals are twice a day in the servants' hall. You eat what we eat, no special treatment." "I understand," Jasmina said. The woman studied her. "You really kill someone to get the Alpha's attention?" "What?" "That's what they're saying. That you were so desperate to be Luna, you tried dark magic. That you put a curse on that Arlene girl." The woman shook her head. "But it didn’t work, clearly." Jasmina wanted to scream that it was a lie, that she'd never touched dark magic, that Arlene had stolen everything from her. But the woman was already leaving. She lay down on the cot, staring at the ceiling. And for some reasons she doesn’t understand, the mate bond was gone. She could feel the emptiness where it used to live, a hollow space in her chest that ached worse than any injury. Damoew had severed it completely, but the pain and agony was supposed to last till two full nights but it was gone beginning the first night. Well, Jasmina appreciated it. Because now, there was no going back from that. She just have to think about her baby. She'd figure out how to protect it. How to survive long enough to make sure her child had a chance at life, even if she didn't. Jasmina lay awake through the night, listening to footsteps in the corridor, voices murmuring behind closed doors, the distant sound of Arlene's laughter echoing from the main hall where the coronation celebration continued without her. When dawn finally broke, thin light seeping under the door, Jasmina stood and tied her hair back with a strip of cloth. She was a servant now. A disgraced and rejected omega now, carrying a child marked for death. But she wasn't dead yet right? Neither was her baby. That would have to be enough, because the Moon Goddess just gave her enough time to figure her life.The message from Erik of Northern Frost came on a Tuesday, four months after the battle.It wasn't a radio call. It was a written letter, which Erik only used when he wanted to be certain that the precise wording was recorded, and when she saw the Northern Frost seal on the envelope she set down what she was doing and read it immediately.Erik wrote the way he talked—direct and without softening. The substance of the letter was this: three packs in the northeastern corridor, two of them Northern Frost affiliates and one independent, had in the last six weeks received visits from representatives of a coalition Jasmina had not heard of. The representatives identified themselves as speaking for something they called the Eastern Collective, a loose alliance of seven packs operating in the deep eastern territories beyond Erik's usual sphere of contact. The Eastern Collective's representatives had brought a specific message: that the Grand Council's recognition of Jasmina as Alpha Supreme r
Lyanna told Damoew what she thought in the kitchen at six in the morning while Jasmina was still asleep.Jasmina heard about it secondhand, from Damoew, who told her while they were doing the dishes after dinner, three days later, because that was how Damoew worked—he held things and turned them over and brought them out when he'd decided what he thought about them. He said Lyanna had sat across from him with her tea and told him that what Kira was doing was consistent with what Sable had always described as the foundational trajectory, which was that this child was going to move fast and the job of everyone around her was not to manage the speed but to make sure she had ballast. He said Lyanna had used the word ballast, which he found slightly funny. He said Lyanna told him that his own instinct toward steadiness was the most useful thing he brought to this situation and that he should trust it and stop standing in the nursery doorway with the look he got.Damoew said he didn't know
Kira broke a window at three and a half months old.Not dramatically. Not in anger. She was lying on the floor mat in the nursery during free time—Sable had introduced free time, twenty minutes where no exercise was happening and no one was directing her attention anywhere, just Kira on the mat with whatever she chose to do with it—and Damoew was sitting against the wall watching her the way he'd started watching her in the mornings, that low steady attention he gave her that didn't demand anything back.She was looking at the window.The glass didn't shatter. It cracked—a single line from the lower left corner up to about the midpoint, the kind of crack that suggested pressure had been applied from inside out. Slow. Deliberate. Like a test.Damoew said: "Kira."She looked at him.The crack stopped where it was.He sat with it for about ten seconds—Jasmina knew this because he told her exactly afterward, and she believed him because Damoew didn't embellish—and then he said, very calml
The morning after Gareth signed the submission document, Jasmina slept until eight.Not because she'd decided to. Her body just didn't wake her. Kira slept too, which almost never happened past six, and Damoew was already up and gone when she opened her eyes. The compound outside the window sounded normal. Not quiet-normal, not after-battle-normal. Just normal, the everyday hum of people going about things, which was its own kind of strange after the weeks they'd had.She lay there for a moment and looked at the ceiling.Gareth was being transported back to Ironwood territory this morning. Stefan had organized it with two warriors and a vehicle and the minimum of ceremony. She hadn't gone to see him off. She'd thought about it and decided it would have been theater—the Alpha Supreme watching the defeated Alpha leave—and she had no interest in theater. She'd already said what needed saying in that secured room. The rest was logistics.She got up, fed Kira, dressed, and went to the offi
Stefan's casualty report came at 0510.She read it in the command room with her hands on the desk and took it in slowly.Four wounded seriously. Fourteen with minor injuries. No deaths.She read the last line twice.No deaths.Three battles. She'd lost three people in the first. Zero in the second.
Fenwick called on a Friday evening. Jasmina was in the nursery. Kira had been fussy for the past hour—not magic, just a baby having a bad evening—and she was walking her slowly around the room while Damoew sat in the corner chair with the patience of a man who had learned that sometimes the walking
Ord called on a Wednesday. Not his Beta, not an intermediary. Ord himself, direct line, which meant he'd either done his research and found the Alpha Supreme's administrative channel or someone had given it to him. From the way Vincent had been working the situation, she suspected the latter.He i
Kira turned three months old on a Sunday. Not a ceremony—they didn't mark it formally. But Jasmina noticed it, and Damoew noticed it, and Lyanna arrived in the morning with food that she claimed was for no particular reason, which meant she'd noticed it too.Sable noticed it differently. She came t






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