A knife in the pregnant Luna’s belly.

All evidence points to the Alpha’s scorned concubine.

Althea didn’t do it.

But no one will believe the wolfless omega who was rejected, humiliated, and made his slave.
So she runs—straight into the Red Mist and into the jaws of the one creature that even the Alpha hunting her fears.

---

Thorne Vargan, the Hellhound of the North Clan, swore bloody retribution on everyone responsible for destroying all he had ever known—especially the woman who beheaded his mother.

As fate would twist it, that woman’s daughter stumbles into his hellish domain…

And Thorne is not letting her go.

He claims her. 

As captive.
As leverage.
As vengeance.

But the fates have a different tale to weave as something in him hungers for her in ways far more dangerous than hate.

Her scent tempts him.
Her fear intrigues him.
Her secrets threaten to set his blood—and the entire pack system—on fire.

And while Thorne pins her to his world with claws and shadow, the Alpha she fled is coming.

He wants his little omega back.

The hallway narrowed, growing too small for the two of us—even if she was half my size.


"I am going to reject her once I get all I need from her."


Her one working eye flared. "You won't." The finality was damning and infuriating.


"Mate or not, I am not pissing on my mother's legacy for some girl."


Her eye narrowed. "You cannot weave fate into the tapestry you prefer."


"You seem to have a lot of empathy for her, Grandmother." I stepped closer to her. "Can you not smell Morgana when she is near? You should be the last person on this earth who would forget," I spat.


"I have forgotten nothing," she snapped back. "I could never forget."


 The forlorn note in her voice fell away into grief.


 "I saw it happen, Thorne. I saw her struggle until the last moment. I saw the instant she knew she could no longer fight. I saw her neck snap and split, the blood gushing from the stump where her head used to be. I saw her head roll."


Chapter 29 - Correspondence