LOGINGracia's POV
"Sera…"
"Take it back!"
I stared at her. She was shaking, her eyes wild with emotion. I had never seen her like this before. I had been beaten so many times in my life—by my father, by Castor, by countless others. But her single slap hurt more than any beating I had ever endured.
*Why? Why does her pain matter more than mine?*
"Sera, I…"
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please just take it ba
Damian's POV"I won't be able to kill her if this is happening…"I freeze. My body goes still. My heart pounds against my ribs.I peer slowly around the corner. It's Mary. She's standing in the dark edge of the hallway, her phone pressed to her ear, her back to me. She doesn't see me. She doesn't know I'm there.I press myself against the wall, barely breathing, straining to hear every word."I know, I know… but she's getting better. That Silvermoon Luna is healing her faster than I anticipated. She's talking, laughing… she hasn't done that in years. If she keeps improving, I won't be able to…"A pause. She listens to the person on the other end."I understand… I understand. But you need to give me more time. I can't… I can't do it now. Not when this Silvermoon pups is here."Another pause. Her voice grows sharper, more desperate."What do you mean I have to find a
Damian's POVThe night is quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful in the way only darkness can be when it holds no threat.I sit on the bench, my legs stretched out, my back against the cold wood. Beside me, Gracia sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that has long gone cold. Across from us, Greta is wrapped in a shawl, her face pale in the moonlight.We have been listening to Gracia's past since morning. The sun rose, climbed to its peak, and fell into darkness. And still, we sit here, listening to the story of a man who has endured more pain than anyone should ever have to bear.I thought I knew suffering. I thought losing my parents at a young age, raising Maya alone, leading a pack through war—that was pain. That was sacrifice. I carried that weight like a badge of honor.But listening to Gracia, I realize how naive I was.He was a child when his mother was killed. A slave when he was s
Gracia's POVThe world stopped.Not in the way people say when they're surprised. Not in the way love makes you feel. No. The world actually stopped. I couldn't hear anything. Couldn't feel anything. Couldn't see anything except the body in my arms and the blood on my hands.Orin's body was still warm. His eyes were closed. His face was peaceful, like he was just sleeping. But I knew he wasn't. I knew he would never wake up. I knew he was gone.‘He's dead. He's dead… He's dead.’The words echoed through my mind, hollow and meaningless. I couldn't process them. I couldn't accept them. I just held him, my arms wrapped around his still form, my face burned by crying. I knew I was crying. But I couldn't feel the tears.‘Gracia… E-Eve, Esme and Arthur are… dead.’Sera's words cut through the void like a blade. I heard them. I understood them. But I couldn't feel them. I was hollow.
Gracia's POVThe field beyond the compound walls was a nightmare of chaos and blood.I ran through the shattered gate, my sword in one hand, a fallen warrior's rifle in the other. The West warriors were fleeing, but they were too many. Some had turned to fight, driven by desperation or loyalty to their dead Alpha. The Ironhold warriors surged forward, meeting them head-on.The battle was devastating. There was no order now, no formations, no strategy—just chaos. Guns fired from every direction, the cracks and booms deafening. Swords clashed, steel against steel. Wolves shifted, their massive forms tearing through enemy lines. Cars burned in the distance, their twisted metal frames blackened by flames. Snipers on the walls picked off enemies from afar, but there were too many to stop.The ground was slick with blood. Bodies lay everywhere—some Ironhold, some West. I stepped over them, my boots squelching in the mud and gore. The a
Gracia's POVEverything around me had shrunk down to one point of focus.There I was, standing at the wrecked gate, my sword still dripping blood, my rifle tossed aside and empty. The battle swirled around me—warriors clashing, metal ringing, and the sound of the dying echoing in the chaos. But my attention was glued to the center of the courtyard, where two giants were about to clash.The brown wolf was a beast, no doubt about it. He towered over every wolf I’d ever seen, muscles rippling under his thick fur. He was at least two heads taller than average, his massive form blocking out the light that shone behind him. He had already taken out dozens of our warriors without breaking a sweat, sending their bodies flying like they were nothing.But Orin? He wasn’t just any wolf.My father-in-law was a giant too—a black wolf with eyes like glowing embers. While he wasn’t quite as big as the brown behemoth, he
Sera's POVThe sound echoed through the packhouse like a death knell."Go to the mansion now!" My father's voice thundered, cutting through the chaos. "Take as many warriors as you can! There's no one in the mansion to protect them!"Walter moved faster than I had ever seen him move, disappearing through the door with a squad of warriors at his heels. The sound of their boots faded into the distance, swallowed by the growing noise of battle outside.Gracia stood, swaying slightly. I rushed to his side, supporting him.My father turned to him, his face grim. "Can you fight?"Gracia nodded, his jaw tight. "I can't shift," he admitted, his voice strained. "But I can fight with weapons."Orin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Better than nothing."I ran.I burst into the living room, my heart pounding. Sela was still sleeping peacefully in her crib, her small chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm
I wake up to sunlight and the smell of something cooking.For a second, I forget where I am. Think I'm back home, in my tiny room, with Dad making breakfast downstairs. Then I see the white walls, the unfamiliar ceiling, the fireplace with cold ash in it.Right. Silvermoon. Damian's house. Not dead
I can't breathe.Caden stands in the middle of Damian's front yard like he owns it, he does owns everything. His dark hair catches the morning light. His ice-blue eyes sweep over the Silvermoon pack members with that look I know too well—the one that says *you're beneath me* without him having to o
I wake up in a bed that's not mine.That's my first thought. Before I open my eyes, before I remember anything—just that the sheets smell different. Like pine and something else. Something clean and sharp.Then everything comes rushing back. The rejection. The run. The rain. The wolves.I sit up so
My hands won't stop shaking.I press them flat against my thighs, but the tremors just move up my arms. The white dress my mom wore thirty years ago feels too tight around my ribs, or maybe that's just my lungs forgetting how to work."You'll ruin it." My dad's voice comes from behind me. Soft. Car







