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Chapter two

Tristan

T he scent of smoke and blood clung to me as I strode through the winding tunnels of the sanctuary, the steady cadence of my boots echoing across the stone walls.

Shadows from the torchlight flickered and leaped against the jagged surfaces, twisting into sharp shapes that clawed at my periphery.

The ceiling glowed faintly with veins of lunar crystal—remnants of the storm goddess’s blessing.

It pulsed with the pack’s unity. Tonight, it flickered like it couldn’t decide if we still deserved it.

The mountain didn’t sleep. It listened. It judged.

Every echo that rang through its stone bones reminded me I was never alone here—not really.

We were born of its magic. Strengthened by it.

Bound to it. But tonight, the walls felt colder.

Sharper. As if it, too, was waiting to see what I’d do with her.

Silence had always been an ally, a part of the mountain’s rhythm that mirrored my own. Tonight, though, it grated. Behind the quiet, I could hear them— my pack —whispering in chambers and alcoves. The weight of each hushed word dragged against my instincts.

They were questioning me. My choice. My leadership.

And perhaps they had every damn right to.

Bringing her here—bringing Serena here—was reckless at best, dangerous at worst. When I’d made the call after the raid earlier tonight, I told myself it was calculated.

But now, as the hum of unease swelled around me, gnawing at the edges of my precision, doubt hung like a chain around my neck.

I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, my fingers snagging on the dark strands. “Dammit,” I muttered, the word hanging heavy in the silent room. The weight of my decision pressed down on me, an invisible burden that threatened to crush my resolve.

Serena's face flashed in my mind - those defiant amber eyes boring into me, challenging me even as I'd ordered her taken captive. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

“Strength isn't just muscle,” I reminded myself. But what good was strength when faced with an impossible choice?

I moved to the window, gazing out at the star-strewn sky. The constellations glimmered, indifferent to the turmoil below. How many nights had I stood here, seeking answers in those distant pinpricks of light?

“What would you have done, father?” I whispered, the words bitter on my tongue.

Images of blood-soaked battles flashed through my mind - the legacy of hatred between our packs stretching back generations. My father's mistakes loomed large, his hunger for vengeance nearly destroying our pack. And now here I stood, poised to repeat history.

The cut on my shoulder stung as the air in the mountain tunnels grew colder, but the pain wasn’t enough to ground me.

My senses were already raw, straining beyond my control, flaring in ways that had nothing to do with blood loss.

Every fiber in my body pulsed with unrest, my wolf’s instincts pulling tight and demanding answers I didn’t have.

Her scent still clung to me.

The entire sanctuary carried it now. It unfurled in waves, wild and sweet—like the bite of honeysuckle in the early summer air.

No matter how long or far I walked, no matter how deep I pushed into the maze-like chambers of this mountain, it followed.

Invisible but persistent, curling around my senses like a living thing.

And it was driving me out of my fucking mind.

Serena.

Her scent shouldn't make me ache. It shouldn’t remind me of heat, of nights I couldn’t afford to want.

But it did. And the worst part? My wolf didn’t hate it.

It wanted more. I bit back a low growl, breathing through my nostrils as I descended deeper into the tunnels, my boots crunching across loose gravel that no one had bothered to clear from the main path.

It wasn’t her name. It wasn’t her fire or the defiance that cracked against me like lightning in a storm.

It wasn’t even the spectacle she’d made of herself, spitting in my face and daring me to regret taking her alive.

It was her mark .

The cursed moon and stars on her wrist—too faint to catch light until she was writhing in pain from the wolfsbane on the ropes. The welts on her wrist still haunted me. I’d smelled her pain when they tied her—bitter, burning. No one else had noticed. But I had. And I hadn’t stopped it.

“This changes nothing,” I whispered to no one, shaking my head sharply, trying to shove her from my mind.

She was a Silver Ridge wolf, my enemy, and she’s tethered to an ancient curse that could rip apart our packs and undo everything I’d spent my life building.

Yet somehow—I gritted my teeth at the thought—she’d managed to sink hooks under my skin in the space of a single hour.

I clenched my jaw as I rounded a corner, the wide entrance to one of the larger assembly chambers now visible ahead. My wolf stirred in my chest—the connection restless but unspoken, an unnamable hum that vibrated my bones. For fuck’s sake, if I didn’t get my head together, I’d—

“You’re late.”

Ewan’s voice hit me like a slap, sharp and deliberately antagonistic.

His lean form leaned against the chamber wall, silhouetted by the fiery torches and the faint mineral glow of the cave.

His arms were crossed, his lips curved down into a sneer.

The other ranking pack members gathered with him exchanged nervous, sidelong glances, their unease suspended in the air like heavy fog.

I leveled my stare at him, steady and cold. “I didn’t realize I was on a schedule.”

Ewan pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his movements efficient, deliberate.

“The pack isn’t blind, Tristan.” His voice curled low and rough at the edges, his loyalty laced with challenge.

“They see the enemy in the cell, the Silver Ridge wolf taking up our air, and they want to know why .” His shoulders squared, his jaw ticking.

“Hell, so do I. We were supposed to take out the alpha, not kidnap his damn daughter.”

My fingers itched to clench, but I kept my hands loose at my sides. Authority wasn’t all power and rage; it was control. And I wasn’t about to let Ewan—or anyone else—mistake my calculus for hesitation.

“You’ll address her properly,” I replied, my tone a sharp blade of warning, “unless you’re ready to challenge my judgment in front of the entire pack.”

Ewan stiffened, the subtleties of his wolf rippling beneath his skin. Our bond as alpha and beta tempered the tension, keeping it just short of outright rebellion—at least for now. Behind us, the pack stood silent, waiting like the trees before a storm.

“I don’t question your right to lead,” Ewan said, his words edged with caution but no less direct. “But I question the choice you’ve made. You brought a curse into these tunnels. A curse , Tristan—and for what? Leverage? You’ve dealt a blow to Silver Ridge before. We could’ve crushed them—”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” I snapped, sharper than I intended. “The decision wasn’t up for debate.”

“It should’ve been.”

My wolf surged toward the surface, ears back, tail high.

It hated being questioned. Hated the smell of doubt pouring off Ewan like sweat.

The chamber bristled. At least three nearby wolves stiffened visibly in their seats, and I caught the faint metallic tang of restless adrenaline in their sweat.

I shifted my eyes just long enough to acknowledge their unease before returning to Ewan, refusing to drop my voice any lower than necessary.

“You’ve stood beside me long enough to know what a battlefield looks like. Decisions don’t wait, not when the stakes are set in blood. And this one? This was about more than a border skirmish.”

I let the weight of the sentence linger, my gaze sweeping across the room for emphasis. “Serena isn’t just leverage. She’s tied to something bigger than this war, and until I figure out what , she stays here. Any objections?”

Ewan snorted softly, his expression grim.

“You’re saying you risked the pack for answers , Tristan?

Stormvale's strength runs through these very stones,” he growled.

“You start shaking the foundation with prophecy and curses, and it’s not just your title on the line.

You risk the blood-rite bond we swore under the full moon. ”

“I’m saying I risked the pack for certainty,” I snapped, finally letting my words edge with command.

“If any of you think Serena is the reason we’re at war, you’re more ignorant than I thought.

This curse, this prophecy —it doesn’t end with one pack over the other. Not if tonight was any indication.”

Ewan stepped forward, his shoulders squaring until he was barely a foot away.

“You think the pack gives a shit about curses?” he murmured, his gaze low and sharp beneath the torchlight.

He wasn’t raising his voice, but he didn’t need to.

Ewan’s anger cut colder when it was quiet.

“They see a rogue with a mark—and they see you hesitating for the first time since you’ve held this title.

This isn’t like you... and it’s putting cracks where there shouldn’t be any. ”

He hesitated for the smallest beat, his jaw clenching before continuing. “I don’t want cracks, Tristan. I want survival.”

I took two steps forward, closing the remaining distance between us. “I know what happened tonight. I know where the lines were. I know what could have spilled over onto this stone if I’d let it. But I made a call—one your position demands you either accept or challenge. Which will it be?”

Ewan’s gaze flickered briefly, his teeth locked audibly before he dropped them with a slight tilt of his head. Submission, barely.

Good.

But a half-step away from rebellion.