"Some lives are born from the frozen silence of a grave."

Vespera is a bloody paradox walking through the snows of Alberta. The only legacy of a cursed night where a vampire's cold poison and a wolf’s feral rage knotted within a dead human womb. She is a hybrid baptized by her mother’s final breath; she is the one who survived by sucking life from death.

As an unbranded Omega, there was no place for her—not even on the dustiest shelves of this brutal hierarchy. Yet, Vespera’s eyes were never on the arrogant thrones of vampires or the blood-stained leadership of wolves. Her only dream wasthe small, fragile family she built with a handful of outcasts. She was naive enough to believe she could flee from her destiny; but in the lands ruled by High Alpha Varg, every escape was merely a red carpet rolled out for the predator.

When Varg—the High Alpha of cold iron and silver wrath—found her in the darkness of the prophecies and the silence of her unawakened wolf, what he offered was not a rescue. It was a sinister bargain that touched the most intimate agonies of her soul.The High Alpha’s voice was as cold as a blade’s edge, yet filled with a lethal promise:

"When the rhythm of that heart, born from a dead womb, begins to beat only for my name... that is when you will survive the true hell within my own heart, Vespera. Do not just give me your submission... Give me those bloody syllables that have never been heard before."

As silver ashes fall one by one from the sky, Vespera must make a choice: She will either vanish as a silent syllable in the claws of a monster, or she will turn herunawakened wolf into a nightmare that will stain all of Alberta in blood.

"Those born of death can only be sealed in blood."

He could barely restrain himself from torching the forest hut of that old hag Sangu. Sangu, Sanglu, Saang—she had a thousand different names, but Varg could only call her a snake-tongued, charlatan witch.


Was the Alpha of Alphas so desperate as to seek help from a vampire hybrid?


That stupid girl was low-born. She wasn't worth the nail Violet had clipped off. She wasn't even worth a single strand of hair from Violet's head. The earth Violet trampled under her feet was more precious than that freak girl's entire body.


When Varg entered Kael's territory and moved toward that simple tribe near the city, he didn't yet know that the scent of fresh coffee and a foreign pheromone—smelling somewhat of vanilla and metallic blood—belonged to the "freak" who would change his life forever.


Chapter 64 - SSTORY2 ) Predator by Nature, Prisoner by Her Scent