Chapter 5: The Forbidden Blood

Sonnet

The whispered words of the hooded stranger hung in the icy air of the cathedral like a death sentence.

What she truly carries in her blood.

Salvador didn’t just freeze; his entire body turned to solid stone against mine.

The faint, protective warmth I had felt from his touch just a moment ago instantly vanished, replaced by a rigid, terrifying tension that radiated from his muscles.

His fingers dug into my waist with a possessive, borderline painful grip, pulling me so close to his side that I could feel the erratic, furious thudding of his heart.

I looked past Salvador’s broad shoulder toward the grand staircase.

Standing in the shadows was a man draped in the heavy, crimson-and-gold robes of the High Lycan Council—the supreme elders who governed the laws of all werewolf packs on the continent.

He pulled back his hood, revealing a sharp, weathered face with cold, calculating blue eyes and a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw.

Elder Elijah.

My stepfather, Beta Richard, gasped from his position on the floor, burying his face deeper into the dust.

The Silver Crest pack members scrambled backward, trying to distance themselves from the brewing war between a ruthless King and the highest authority of the werewolf law.

"Elder Elijah," Salvador growled, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying frequency that vibrated right through my bones.

"You are far outside your jurisdiction. The Midnight Realm does not answer to the whims of the Council’s old men."

"The Council does not interfere with the politics of your kingdom, King Salvador," Elijah said, his voice smooth, dripping with a mocking politeness as he walked down the marble steps.

"But we do interfere when a King attempts to smuggle a forbidden entity across national borders under the guise of an accidental marriage."

Elijah stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his cold gaze shifting away from Salvador and locking directly onto me.

A cruel, victorious smile stretched across his thin lips.

"Did you really think a simple scent-masking spell from a low-tier pack could hide her from us forever? Look at her, Salvador. Look at the color of her eyes beneath the panic. You know exactly what she is."

My heart leaped into my throat.

A scent-masking spell? What was he talking about?

I had lived my entire life as an orphan in the Silver Crest pack. My mother had died when I was a child, and my stepfather had spent the last ten years telling me I was a useless, broken Omega with no value.

I didn't have a rare scent. I didn't have special powers. I was just Sonnet.

"She is my fated mate," Salvador stated, his voice booming through the cathedral, a loud, undeniable challenge to the law itself.

"The Moon Creator chose her for me. That is the only law I recognize."

"The Moon Creator may have matched your souls, but the law of the First Wolves forbids her bloodline from ever sitting on a throne," Elijah countered, his eyes gleaming with a malicious satisfaction.

He reached into his robes and pulled out an ancient, silver parchment stamped with the Royal Council's seal.

"Ten years ago, the Silver Crest pack claimed they adopted an orphan from a rogue raid. But the Council has spent a decade tracking the last remaining survivors of the slaughtered Eclipse Pack.

The pack of the legendary Silver Lunas."

A collective, terrified murmur erupted from the hallway.

The Eclipse Pack was a myth—a legendary lineage of werewolves whose females were rumored to possess a pure, silver-white wolf that could command the elements and break the dominance of any Alpha King

. They had been systematically wiped out a generation ago because the Royal Alphas feared their power.

"She is not a weak Omega, Your Majesty," Elijah sneered, pointing a finger at me.

"She is a dormant Silver Luna. Her blood contains the spark that can overthrow the monarchy. By the decree of the High Council, Sonnet of the Eclipse Pack is arrested for treason against the crown. Give her to us, or the Midnight Realm will be declared an enemy of the state."

"No..." The word escaped my lips in a breathless gasp.

I looked up at Salvador, my vision blurring with sudden tears of absolute terror.

"Salvador, I don't know what he's talking about. I swear, I’m just an Omega. Don't let them take me."

Thomas, who was still groveling on the floor from Salvador's assault, suddenly let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"A Silver Luna? That freak? No wonder her mother hid her. If the Council takes her, the Silver Crest pack has nothing to do with it! We reject her!"

Salvador didn't look down at Thomas.

He didn't look at the cowering pack. Slowly, he turned his head to look down at me.

For a terrifying second, my breath caught. Was he going to hand me over? He was a King.

His first duty was to his kingdom, to his people.

A fated mate was a powerful bond, but would a ruthless ruler risk a massive, continent-wide war with the High Council just to keep a broken girl he had met an hour ago?

The grey in Salvador's eyes entirely disappeared, replaced by a blinding, incandescent gold that filled the entire room with a suffocating, blinding light.

The raw, primal power exploding from him was so intense that Elder Elijah actually took a panicked step backward, his hand flying to the silver dagger at his waist.

"You speak of laws and decrees, Elder," Salvador murmured, his voice no longer human, but the merged roar of both man and beast.

"But you forget one fundamental truth about the Midnight Realm."

Salvador stepped in front of me, shielding my entire body with his frame. He reached down, and with a sharp, metallic sound, he drew a massive, obsidian blade from beneath his coat—the royal sword of the Lycan Kings.

"I do not rule by the grace of your Council," Salvador growled, pointing the black blade directly at Elijah’s throat.

"I rule by blood and iron fist. If the Council wants my mate, tell them to bring their entire army to my gates.

Because the first man who steps across my border to touch her will have his head mounted on my castle walls."

Without waiting for Elijah to reply, Salvador swept me up into his massive arms, lifting me effortlessly against his chest.

He turned on his heel, marching past the trembling guards and straight out into the crashing winter rain outside the church, where a fleet of black armored cars was waiting.

As he threw me into the back seat of the royal vehicle and slammed the door, he climbed in beside me, his breathing heavy, his golden eyes locked onto mine with a terrifying, fierce possessiveness.

"Salvador..." I whispered, my hands shaking as I pressed them against his chest. "If they find out the truth... if I really have that blood..."

Salvador reached out, his large hand cupping the back of my head, pulling me firmly against his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter what is in your blood, Sonnet," he whispered against my hair, his voice fierce, dark, and utterly unyielding.

"You are my mate. And if I have to burn the entire world to the ground to keep you safe from them... then let it burn."

But as the car sped away into the dark night toward the Midnight Realm, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.

In the reflection of the dark car window, my own eyes, which had always been a dull brown, were faintly glowing with a dangerous, pure silver light.