Chapter 6 – Verifying Shadows

Kieran

Night bleeds into a murky pre-dawn, and my study is still lit by a single, guttering candle.

Sleep hasn't been an option. Every time I close my eyes, I see either the insolent amusement in Alexei Basov’s eyes, or the barely veiled contempt in Vorlag’s. One threatens my control, the other my crown. It's a delightful tightrope walk.

I stand at the window, watching the first pale light creep over the eastern peaks, painting the underside of the clouds in bruised shades of violet and rose.

It’s been three weeks since I took charge. Three weeks of patching holes in a sinking ship while half the crew mutters about mutiny below decks. My father left behind a legacy of fear and rot, and cleaning it out feels like trying to scrub shadows off stone.

Alexei’s information about the mining tunnels is the first real, actionable piece of intel I’ve had regarding Redmaw's potential strategy. It feels vital. It also feels like a perfectly crafted lie designed to send me chasing phantoms while Brannagh sharpens his real blade.

My wolf paces restlessly under my skin. It doesn't trust Alexei either, bristling at the memory of another Alpha standing too close, challenging without moving a muscle. But it also recognizes the scent of opportunity, the chance to strike first instead of merely reacting. It’s torn, just like I am. It’s also intrigued, which I’m most definitely not.

A soft knock at the door forces my thoughts back to the present.

“Enter.”

A young Beta slips in, one of our night runners, face smudged with dirt, eyes bright with exhaustion and the importance of his message. He carries a tightly rolled parchment sealed with Marcus’s plain wax stamp. No pack sigil. He really is trying to be very discreet.

“From the Captain, Alpha,” he says, offering it with a slight bow.

“Thank you, Lyall. Get some rest.”

He looks surprised I know his name, then nods gratefully and disappears back into the pre-dawn quiet. I break the seal, my fingers perhaps a little too eager.

The report is concise, Marcus’s script neat and devoid of flourish. Three scout teams were dispatched. Two entrances located, matching Alexei’s rough description. Both show signs of passage. Old signs.

Scuff marks on stone, smoothed by weather. Faint tracks near the openings, partially obscured by recent debris fall. Nothing definitively Redmaw. Nothing definitively recent. One team found remnants of a small, cold campfire near the westernmost entrance, ash scattered, likely weeks old. Could be trappers. Could be Redmaw scouts testing the waters long before Alexei arrived. Could be nothing.

Ambiguity. Gods, I hate fucking ambiguity. It’s the preferred weapon of cowards and politicians. Can nothing just be cut and dried for once?

If Alexei is right, if those tunnels are Brannagh’s intended route, then Silvercrest is vulnerable in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

But if he’s wrong, or lying, and this is just old traffic from smugglers or forgotten hunting trails… then I’ve risked the pack’s stability, further alienated my council, and housed an enemy agent based on a well-spun story.

I’ll look like a fool. A weak, easily manipulated fool.

The thought makes my jaw clench. I won’t give Vorlag that satisfaction.

I cross to my desk, dip a quill, and scrawl a quick summons for Marcus to meet me. Not here. At the training grounds. It’s less formal and there are fewer potential ears attached to the walls.

Fifteen minutes later, I find Marcus waiting for me on the deserted training ground. The air is sharp, carrying the clean scent of damp earth as the ground begins to thaw slightly under the rising sun. He stands patiently, hands clasped behind his back, his breath pluming white.

“The reports are inconclusive,” I state without preamble.

“Yes, Alpha. There are suspicious signs, but nothing fresh enough to confirm the prisoner’s claims.”

“Or deny them.”

I pace a short line on the packed dirt. “The risk is too high to ignore based on preliminary findings. We need to keep a close eye on the area for a few weeks. Stealthily.”

Marcus nods. “My thoughts exactly. Smaller teams. Different approach vectors.”

“Yes. Two wolves maximum per entrance. Experienced trackers only, wolves who know how to move without leaving a trace and how to read scents that are already days old. I want them watching from the ridges above the tunnel mouths, not the direct paths. Ensure they have any climbing gear they may need. No fires. No unnecessary movement or noise. They report only to you, or directly to me, bypassing the usual chain. Use the coded signals we established for the Vorlag surveillance.”

Marcus absorbs the orders without blinking. “And if they encounter resistance? Redmaw patrols?”

“Observe and withdraw. Silently. I need information, not bodies right now. If Basov is telling the truth, engaging prematurely will alert Brannagh that we’re onto him. If he’s lying…” I let the implication hang. If he’s lying, engaging could provoke a conflict we’re not prepared for, based on false intel. “…then we’ve risked nothing but a few hours of climbing.”

“Understood, Alpha. I’ll select the teams myself.”

“Good.” I pause, then add, “And Marcus… ensure none of the wolves selected have close ties to Vorlag or his known associates.”

His gaze sharpens slightly. “Understood.”

He turns to leave, efficient as always. The sun is higher now, casting long shadows across the empty training rings. I stand there for a moment after he’s gone, the quiet amplifying the unease churning inside me. Alexei Basov’s face won’t get the hell out of my head.

This feels different from dealing with Eli’s chaotic energy back in Blackthorn.

Eli was… manageable, in his own infuriating way. A known quantity, even with his hidden depths and surprising power. His challenges were overt, his flirtations barbed but ultimately aimed at testing his bond with Ronan. He never pretended otherwise. He told me repeatedly that he would never choose to leave his Alpha. The heartache I suffered was due to my own stupid hope that he’d come around.

My heart gives a painful twinge at the memory of his grey eyes, the easy way he’d thrown my world off-balance. I miss him. The admission is unwelcome but undeniable. Losing him felt like losing a limb I hadn't realized was vital until it was gone.

Eli’s confidence was a defense mechanism. A cloak he shrugged on to hide the vulnerability beneath. Hiding the fear of not being wanted for himself. I felt a kinship with Eli because we were both experts at presenting our false faces to the world. Never allowing the world to see our weaknesses.

Alexei is something else. An Alpha. Confident. Physically imposing. His flirtations are embarrassingly direct and clearly about claiming my body. He seems utterly comfortable in his own skin and amused by the chaos he creates.

He looks at me like he sees the cracks in my armor and finds them intriguing. It’s unnerving. And yes, gods damn it, it’s attractive in a way that feels dangerous, like admiring a beautifully crafted weapon pointed directly at your chest.

He makes me feel things I haven’t felt since Eli. Things I swore I wouldn’t feel again. I have to protect my heart and ignore the heat I feel when I think about Alexei.

A heat that has nothing to do with emotional attraction and everything to do with the way his green eyes linger on my mouth intentionally.

My body remembers his proximity in that cell, the heat rolling off him, the way my own wolf stirred in response. It’s a purely physical reaction. An Alpha acknowledging another Alpha’s power. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean anything. It can't mean anything.

Besides, Eli broke my heart cleanly. I won't hand the pieces to a potential enemy just because he has arresting eyes and fills out borrowed clothes in a way that makes focusing difficult.

My ego is still bruised from Eli choosing Ronan so definitively. I won't risk that kind of rejection again, especially not with someone who might be playing me. And Alexei isn’t even my type! With his flawless, golden skin and muscles on muscles. He’s too overwhelmingly handsome and probably as thick as a tree branch.

No more brooding about my prisoner. I need proof about those tunnels. Solid, undeniable proof. Either Alexei is a traitor, or he’s the most valuable asset I have right now. There’s no middle ground. And until I know which, keeping my distance and maintaining control, is of paramount importance.

I head back towards the keep, forcing my thoughts away from hypnotic green eyes and back to strategy.