Five

“You’ve awakened,” he said, his voice low, reverent. “You are one of us.”

Angela shook her head, confused.

“One of you? What are you?”

Theo knelt beside her, his gaze holding something deeper than compassion—devotion.

“We are Alphas,” he said softly. “Not just men. Not just beasts. We are something beyond… bound to the ancient magic of this land.”

Damian remained standing, watching like a king before his fallen queen.

His crimson eyes burned with the truth he had always known.

“And you, piccola,” he said, his deep voice making her skin shiver, “you are something rarer still. You are the key.”

The key to what, she didn’t know.

But one thing was certain.

Her fate no longer belonged to her alone.

She was part of something greater, something dark and beautiful, dangerous and inescapable.

Angela closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of earth, rain, magic.

And when she opened them again, there was a decision shining in them.

She would no longer be carried by the currents of life.

She would become the storm.

And somehow, she knew these three men—wild, dangerous, irreversibly bound to her—would be both her ruin and her salvation.

And for the first time in a very, very long time…

She smiled.

The path was narrow, flanked by ancient trees that seemed to whisper forgotten secrets.

Angela walked between Zane and Theo, with Damian just behind, his dark presence like a living shadow.

She still felt the echo of the energy that had exploded inside her minutes earlier—dormant electricity now pulsing under her skin like a second heartbeat.

The air grew heavier, saturated with magic.

She could feel it, as if she were breathing something thicker than oxygen itself.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice carrying strangely among the trees.

Zane glanced at her, golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“To the beginning of it all.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but there was no turning back.

And strangely, she didn’t want to.

They reached a hidden clearing, where the trees opened in reverence to an ancient structure of white stone covered in moss.

It was beautiful. And haunting.

Broken pillars rose like fingers pointing to the heavens, and inscriptions in a language Angela didn’t recognize carved across the surfaces.

Something stirred deep inside her at the sight.

Something primal.

Something that knew this place as home.

“This is the Sanctuary of Eterna,” Theo explained, his voice soft as wind through the columns. “Where our vows are made. Where blood meets destiny.”

Angela stepped closer, fascinated.

Her fingers touched the cold stone, and a shiver ran through her body.

Visions flashed before her—ancient rituals, men and women bathed in shadow and light, promises whispered in forgotten tongues.

Her body reacted before her mind could understand.

She stumbled, and it was Zane who caught her.

His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his broad chest.

His heat burned like fire against her chilled skin.

Angela lifted her face, and their eyes met.

The world dissolved.

There was something between them—fierce and untamable.

Zane drew a ragged breath, visibly fighting himself.

“You are…” he began, voice failing. “You are made for us.”

She swallowed hard.

Part of her wanted to resist.

But another part knew, instinctively, it was true.

Angela breathed him in—burnt wood, leather, storm—and desire clawed into her belly.

His hand traced along her jaw, a surprisingly tender touch.

“Angela,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “you have no idea what you’re awakening in me.”

His fingers pressed into her hip, dragging her closer.

She felt the hardness of his body, the heat rising between them, a dark, delicious promise.

Her heart pounded so fast she could hear nothing else.

“I should give you time,” Zane growled, closing his eyes as if battling his own demons. “I should be patient…”

She could have pushed him away.

She should have stepped back.

But instead, she rose on her toes, guided by something beyond logic.

And without thinking, brushed her lips against his.

It was like striking a match in a field of gunpowder.

Zane answered with a guttural sound, his hand fisting in her hair, dragging her closer with savage hunger.

The kiss was anything but gentle.

It was demanding, brutal, desperate.

And she wanted more.

She wanted to drown in that heat, forget the past, forget fear.

He pressed her against one of the ancient columns, his body dominating hers with ease, and yet Angela felt no fear.

Only a need she had never known.

When they finally tore apart, both breathless, Zane rested his forehead against hers.

“You are ours,” he said—a promise, a sentence.

Angela opened her eyes and saw Theo and Damian watching from a distance.

Theo, with a sad, patient smile.

Damian, with a glint of dark approval.

They weren’t jealous.

They were waiting.

They knew their time would come.

Angela’s fate was never to belong to just one man.

It was to belong to them.

And deep down, she knew:

She was willing.

Even without understanding the consequences, even without grasping the full scope of her power.

Angela was theirs.

And they were hers.

For better.

Or for worse.

The night felt alive.

The wind whispered through the trees like ancient voices warning her of something she didn’t yet understand.

Angela pulled away from the column where Zane had left her, lips still tingling from his savage kiss.

Her body trembled—not only with desire, but with an unsettling sensation, an anxious coil in her gut.

She walked aimlessly, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat.

That was when Theo found her.

“Angela,” he called, his voice steady but edged with urgency.

She turned, relief washing over her at the sight of his

green eyes, calm as deep forests.

Theo strode toward her, each step sure and grounded.

He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet remained the most centered of them all.