CalistaSix months have crawled by, and every day with Armata is like living with a personal eclipse — his shadow looms over my every move, blocking out any semblance of normalcy. It’s not hatred that simmers in my chest now; it’s a begrudging tolerance, the kind you afford a storm that refuses to pass. I find small victories in moments he’s not around, though they’re as rare as they are brief.My friends are a lifeline, a connection to a world where being the Alpha’s daughter isn’t my only identity. Six months have done little to dull the edges of my disdain for him, but they have taught me patience and the art of seizing opportunity when it arises.“Cali, it’s now or never,” whispers Zoe, her eyes sparkling with mischief that reflects my own.“Do you think I can actually do it? Get out without him knowing?” My voice is a mix of excitement and nerves.“With that fortress of a man? It’s gonna be tough. But hey, that’s the thrill, right?” She grins, and I can’t help but grin back.“Y
Armata / LeviI stand there in the dim-lit hallway, the fading sound of her door slamming shut echoes like a verdict. I feel the rage boiling inside me, a storm of frustration and concern, all aimed at the reckless whirlwind named Calista. I need to clear my head. The idea of taking her over my knee flashes across my mind—a visceral, inappropriate response that sets my teeth on edge. I crush the thought the moment it surfaces. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s my charge, not someone for me to reprimand, let alone in such a primal way.I take a deep breath, trying to snuff out the fire, reminding myself that she is my responsibility, not a problem to be solved with the sharp edge of discipline. It’s a primal response, one that flashes bright and dangerous before I shove it away. It has no place here, not in my job, not with her.God damn it.I should be out there, scanning the perimeters, checking the shadows for threats, not babysitting a spoiled brat who has the death wish of a
Calisa Packing is a drill I’ve gotten down to an art, zipping up my suitcase in the silence of my room that buzzes with a quietness I don’t usually get to enjoy. The suitcase, all sleek corners and polished leather, seems like overkill for just a week away. But then again, my life’s always been about overkill, hasn’t it? Especially with Armata lurking around, that constant, shadowy presence I’m finally getting a break from.I don’t even know why I think of him now. Maybe it’s because he’s been a little less... Armata-ish lately. I barely notice him anymore. It’s like he’s there but not there, a ghost I’m constantly aware of. It’s unnerving, like the memory of walking in on him in the gym, that night when I couldn’t peel my eyes off the sheer force he’s made of. I mean, the guy is built like a literal God, and I stood there like a deer in headlights. Pathetic, right?I tell myself to knock it off. To stop thinking about the ripple of muscles, the sheer physical power of him. It’s no
Armata / LeviAs the mansion comes into view, a behemoth of stone and opulence, I can feel the slight tremor in Calista’s fingers where they grip my arm. Her face is ashen, eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights — this wasn’t the goddamn wake-up call I wanted for her. Seeing her, usually so untouchable and fierce, clinging to my side like some scared kid, it stirs something strange in me, a mix of anger and something I can’t quite put my finger on.I didn’t want her to get the picture this way. Sure, she needed to understand the shitstorm that is her legacy — the danger that comes with her name. But not like this, not with this crippling fear that’s latched onto her, seeping into her bones.She’s always been a wild one, bucking against my authority, and I’ve always gotten a twisted kick out of the fire that lights up in her eyes when I invade her space. But now, she needs me close, and it fucks with my head how this doesn’t repulse me one bit.As we pull up, Alpha Dimitrios i
CalistaThe mat is cool beneath my palms, the fabric of my gloves worn and familiar. I throw a punch, another, then a kick, feeling the burn in my muscles, the sweet ache that says I’m getting stronger. Every jab, every uppercut, it’s like I’m hitting back at the terror that’s been clutching at my heart since the attack. With every drop of sweat, I’m reclaiming pieces of myself I thought I’d lost.Armata’s standing there, all coach and no-nonsense, watching every move. “Longer reach, Calista,” Armata calls out, his tone as sharp as the snap of my gloves against the bag. “Hit it like you actually want to hurt it.”I grind my teeth and extend my arm with a snarl, my fist connecting harder, imagining it’s the shadow that haunts me, not just a sack of sand. “How’s that for intent?” I challenge between grunts.His laugh is a low rumble, approval lacing his voice. “Good girl,” he says and heat immediately pools in my core.What the hell.I wouldn’t recognize the girl in the mirror now—swea
Armata / LeviStanding there, in the wake of her departure, I’m gripped by a fierce internal storm. Fucking hell. I was so close, too damn close, to crossing a line I’d drawn in the sand from day one. I lean heavily against the balustrade, the cool metal pressing into my palms, trying to ground the chaos inside me.I watch Calista meld back into the sea of her high-society friends, her laughter reaching me even from here, and it’s like a sucker punch to the gut. She’s a siren in a room full of sharks, unaware of the power she holds, even over me.It’s as if that moment between us—charged, close, a hair’s breadth from a kiss—was just a figment of my imagination.But it wasn’t. It was real, and it’s eating me up inside.I rub a hand over my face, the stubble scratching against my palm, and it pulls a self-deprecating laugh from deep within me. What the hell was I thinking? I’m supposed to be her damn protector, her trainer, not some lovesick asshole who can’t keep his shit—or his hands
CalistaI slam the door to the training room behind me, my heart pounding in a furious rhythm that matches the rage boiling in my veins. Levi—no, Armata, because that’s what he is, just a codename, a role, and nothing more—has crossed a line. I can feel the phantom pressure of his hands on my wrists, the heat of his body too close to mine, and it ignites something within me that’s as close to pure fury as I’ve ever felt.I should be used to this, to him. Levi, with his ever-changing moods and his methods that border on cruel, but last night, something shifted. We nearly kissed. The memory of his closeness, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine—it sends a shockwave through my system, and I’m pissed. Pissed because it means something, and even more because he’s acting like it means nothing.I turn the water on, not bothering to test the temperature before I step under it. It’s hot enough to turn my skin pink, steaming up the shower stall, clouding the air, but it’s nothing compar
Armata / LeviThe sunlight filters through the leaves of the tree I’m leaning against, casting a dappled pattern on the cobblestone, and for a moment, it’s almost picturesque—the kind of moment a man could lose himself in if his heart wasn’t a damned wasteland.I’m watching Calista, her eyes alight with that spark I know all too well, that damned bratty spark that makes my blood heat in the most inconvenient ways. She’s all sass and fire, laughter spilling from her in waves that seem to crash over the entire cafe, infecting everyone with a joy I can barely remember feeling.There’s a grace to her defiance, a beauty to the way she throws her head back and challenges the world with her very presence. She’s got this way of being, bold and unapologetic, and fuck me if it doesn’t make me want to—But then I blink, and I see him. Liam.The scene before me is like a damn paradox. There they are, Liam and Demi, wrapped up in each other’s arms, smiles wide enough to rival the crescent of the m