Page 4

The pack dispersed begrudgingly after I assured them of further answers tomorrow during committees—a political formality if nothing else. But Ewan lingered behind, and though tension still hung like smoke between us, I didn’t send him away.

Ewan and I had history too deep to ignore, even when he grated against me.

He’d stood by my shoulder when we were both too young to wield authority—teenagers climbing a mountain we shouldn’t have had to scale alone.

It was Ewan who’d gathered the pack in my father’s absence, handed me the wolves’ loyalty, and bound himself to me when no one else would.

That kind of camaraderie didn’t dissolve in a single night.

But it cracked around the edges, sharp and dangerous, every time resentment reared its head.

“You never let anyone close,” he said finally, pacing as his heels scuffed the stone floor. “So why her?”

I leaned my hands against the oak table in the center of the chamber, turning my head just slightly to glance at him. My reflection stared back faintly in the maps spread across the surface—just shadows against parchment. I didn’t answer immediately.

His frustration boiled over. “Tristan, damn it—”

“Because there’s something different ,” I said, my voice low but clipped, steady. “Something tied to the curse she carries—the one she doesn’t even fully understand. And with the prophecy Morrigan warned of, I have to be sure.”

Ewan flinched, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

I didn’t owe him details, but he wasn’t someone I could leave in the dark about everything.

He wouldn’t use her, not so long as the question of her importance remained unanswered, but his doubt would spread to the pack quickly if I wasn't honest about—at least—half of what I knew.

“What kind of ‘different?’” He crossed his arms but lowered his tone.

I hesitated before speaking evenly: “Her mark. It’s the same as mine. The same as the trail of runes carved through these chambers. I saw it when you were tying her up.”

Ewan swore under his breath, the heat of his anger briefly traded with shock, followed by dawning concern.

“We bled for this pack,” Ewan muttered, eyes flashing.

“I watched your father burn, and I made sure you didn’t fall with him.

I just... I don’t want to lose you too. You sure it’s not some kind of—”

“Trick?” I cut him off, shaking my head. “No. It’s real. And she noticed mine, too.” My voice tightened as the memory flashed in my mind—her sharp intake of breath, the way her eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Whatever this is, it’s not coincidence.”

Ewan slammed a fist against the table. The dull thud echoed through the chamber, his frustration crackling like firelight. “You’re gambling with the pack, Tristan. If the elders catch wind of this—or worse, if she’s some kind of weapon Silver Ridge planted—”

“She’s not a plant,” I snapped, standing straight.

The words came out faster than I intended, too charged.

I inhaled, refusing to meet Ewan’s eyes as realization settled dense and suffocating in my chest. Why was I so sure?

What was it about her that stripped away my detachment, leaving me raw and defensive in ways I’d never allowed myself to be before?

Besides, I recalled the last elder meeting and they’re already circling.

‘Stormvale should act like Stormvale,’ one had hissed.

As if they were waiting for an excuse to unseat me.

Ewan caught my hesitation and pounced on it. “You don’t know that. For all we know, she’s bait. A curse-touched wolf who could unravel everything we’ve built. You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment—”

“Watch your tone,” I growled, the warning clear in the low rumble of my voice. My wolf edged closer to the surface, demanding submission, but Ewan didn’t back down entirely.

“What tone should I use when my alpha might be risking the pack for one she-wolf who doesn’t belong here?

” He glared, fists clenched at his sides.

“She’s dangerous. You know it. I know it.

And keeping her here doesn’t just endanger our lives—it calls everything into question.

You’ve worked too damn hard to let a mistake unravel it. ”

I turned away from him, jaw locked as I gripped the edge of the table hard enough that a lesser material might have cracked.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand his anger, his doubt.

He wasn’t wrong—not entirely. If the council caught wind of this, they’d invoke the old laws—binding combat.

Challenge by blood. And if I lost... they’d tear Stormvale apart from the inside out.

But underneath his words was a challenge I couldn’t accept, not now, not when my resolve was fractured by thoughts of the wolf locked in the chamber down the hall.

I paced the length of the room, my fingers trailing along the rough stone. The cool touch grounded me, a stark contrast to the fire that seemed to ignite whenever I thought of Serena. “And what would you have me do? Release her? That's not an option.”

“We could ransom her,” Ewan suggested, his voice tight. “Get Alaric to agree to leave us alone and be done with this mess.”

I whirled to face him, a snarl building in my chest. “And risk her father's retaliation? No. Not when they’ve already attacked us before, it’s too risky. She stays.”

The tension in the room was palpable, crackling like lightning before a storm. I could smell Ewan's anxiety, sharp and acrid, mingling with my own conflicted scent.

“She’s not just a prisoner, Ewan,” I answered finally, my voice low, measured. “She’s something much larger than she knows. Larger than we know.” I shifted my gaze to him over my shoulder, my ice-blue eyes locking with his. “And until I figure out exactly what that is, Serena stays.”

Ewan inhaled slowly, the tension between us taut as a drawn bowstring. Then, with a stiff bow of his head, he relented—for now. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, his voice still laced with skepticism. “Because if this thing spirals out of control, it’ll be a storm none of us can outrun.”

Without another word, he strode from the chamber, his boots striking the stone faster than necessary. I watched him go, my chest tight with the weight of leadership. I wanted to believe I was right—needed to believe it. But doubt gnawed at me like a wolf too long without a hunt.

The tunnels were quiet again, the sounds of conversation dimmed to faint murmurs in the background.

It was late; most of the pack would retreat to their respective chambers soon, turning to rest as they always did, safe under our mountain’s protection.

But my wolf didn’t feel like resting. It prowled beneath my skin, stirring with restless energy, pulling me toward the south wing of the sanctuary.

Toward her.

Answers. That’s what I was going to find, or at least that’s what I told myself.

The deeper I trekked into the sanctuary, the more the air shifted—damp and heavy, with a faint whistle from the mountain winds filtering through cracks in the stone.

My hand brushed against the jagged walls as I walked, a sensation that grounded me just enough to keep my thoughts in check.

The walls whispered history—runes etched into volcanic stone, long faded but never erased.

Some told stories of sacrifice. Others, warnings: “Break the bond, and the earth will bleed.” I’d ignored those as superstition once. Now... I wasn’t so sure.

The passage narrowed briefly before opening into another carved hollow, the corridor that led directly to the secure quarters. Her scent was stronger here, wild and stubborn, though touched with something sharper—wolfsbane.

Good. At least the measures Ewan had ordered for her containment were working. It was enough to slow her wolf’s strength without crippling her human form entirely. Still, it clawed at me, the thought of her wrists chafing against the bindings, her freedom stripped entirely.

Why does it matter? My own voice pushed the question like a scold, trying to rip away the concern that had no place here.

It didn’t matter—not for her.

But for the prophecy tied to her mark.

This mark, this prophecy—it should’ve been a warning.

But now I wasn’t sure if I wanted answers, or just another excuse to see her again.

It wasn’t until I reached the thick iron bars of her chamber that I realized how tightly my fists were clenched.

I flexed my fingers, taking a slow breath to calm myself, before stepping silently into the dimly lit space.

She was sprawled on the cot against the far wall, her auburn hair wilder than it had been earlier.

The faint shift of her shoulders told me she wasn’t asleep.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking on me like a predator spotting prey. “Come to gloat, Alpha?” she spat, her words as sharp as her glare. “Or are we skipping straight to the torture?”

Her fire didn’t dim for anyone, not even in captivity—and gods help her, it was almost... magnetic.

Serena was now sitting on the edge of the cot, her bare, bruised wrists resting lightly on her lap. The torchlight made her hair glow like fire, and I hated that I noticed. Hated that I wanted to see more of her skin lit up by it.

“Are you planning to stand there brooding, or does the big bad alpha plan to say something?” she said, breaking the quiet without looking up. Her voice was sharp enough to slice bone, but her fire didn’t bother hiding its wounds.

I stepped fully into the dim torchlight this time, my boots deliberate against the stone floor. She raised her head then, her hazel eyes narrowing as they met mine.

“Still breathing. Shame, really,” I finally answered smoothly, leaning one shoulder casually against the iron bars of her cell. The dry retort didn’t satisfy her, though. Serena’s eyes remained on mine, measuring me.