Chapter 9

At dawn an Ironclaw Alpha burst through the forest, faster than anything Eyrix had seen. He moved with brutal intent, armor scorched, eyes wild, scent thick with dominance and old blood.

Before Ryder could turn, before Eyrix could raise a hand, iron-hard fingers closed around Eyrix’s throat.

Eyrix’s back slammed into a broken pillar, stone cracking beneath the force. The Alpha lifted him effortlessly, boots leaving the ground.

“There you are,” the Alpha snarled, breathing hot against Eyrix’s face. His lips peeled back in a smile full of teeth. “Veilblood filth.”

Veilblood. Eyrix’s breath stuttered.

Memories tore free. Chains soaked in blood. A child screaming as elders argued in the shadows. A name spoken only in whispers. Power sealed behind ritual, pain and silence.

Veilblood.

The Ironclaw Alpha tightened his grip. “You should have been drowned at birth.”

Eyrix screamed.

It tore out of him raw and vast, layered with a resonance that shook the bones of the earth itself. The air exploded outward in a violent shockwave.

Every Alpha within range dropped.

Blackfang.

Ironclaw.

They hit the ground as one, knees slamming into stone, spines bowing under an unseen force.

The Ironclaw Alpha holding Eyrix screamed too, his grip breaking as his arms convulsed. He was thrown back like a discarded thing, smashing into the ground hard enough to crater stone.

Eyrix collapsed to his knees, hands clawing at the ground as the scream faded into a low, echoing growl that vibrated in his chest. His heart thundered, each beat shaking him from the inside.

Ryder was on one knee, teeth bared, one hand braced against the stone. Sweat ran down his temple,

He lifted his head.

“Eyrix,” he forced out.

He raised his gaze. Eyes met.

He sucked in a ragged breath, horror crashing through him as he took in the sight of the battlefield.

They’re kneeling because of me.

“No,” Eyrix whispered. “Get up. Please….”

The power didn’t listen.

His Alpha brother Darius emerged slowly from the smoke, each step deliberate, strained. He dropped to one knee with visible effort, face twisted with something between reverence and terror.

“Veilblood,” he said hoarsely. “The buried crown.”

Eyrix staggered to his feet, shaking. “I don’t want this.”

He laughed weakly. “You were never given a choice.”

Ryder pushed himself upright inch by inch, muscles shaking, eyes never leaving Eyrix. When he finally stood, the pressure eased further, enough that others could breathe again, though no one rose fully.

“You’re in control,” Ryder said tightly. “Look at me. You’re in control.”

Eyrix’s chest heaved. He focused on Ryder’s voice, on the scars he knew by heart, on the steady fury and trust in his eyes. The roar inside him softened, the crushing weight lifting.

Alphas gasped as the dominance receded, collapsing rather than kneeling now, strength drained.

Darius pushed himself upright with visible pain. “You cannot stay here, he said to Ryder, eyes fixed on Eyrix. “Every pack will feel him now. Every Alpha. The Veilblood doesn’t hide once awakened.”

“Let them come,” Ryder growled.

Darius’s smile was thin and knowing. “They will. And not all will kneel.”

He turned and signaled sharply.

Blackfang riders slowly rose, warriors staring with awe, fear, and fierce loyalty tangled together. No one spoke.

Eyrix laughed weakly, then sobered. “Veilblood Omega,” he whispered. “What am I?”

Ryder leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “You’re Eyrix,” he said simply. “Whatever blood you carry doesn’t get to erase that.”

Eyrix swallowed. “Ironclaw will never stop.”

“No,” Ryder agreed. “Neither will we.”

Eyrix closed his eyes, feeling the wolf stir again.

For the first time, it did not feel like a curse. It felt like a promise.

Eyrix lifted his head and looked around the yard and truly saw the broken gates, the fallen, the blood soaking into Blackfang stone.

Ryder seemed to read the shift in him. “We’ll honor them,” he said quietly. “Everyone.”

Eyrix nodded. “I will stand with you.”

They moved together through the wreckage, Eyrix supported not hidden, his presence rippling outward in controlled pulses.

Alphas parted instinctively to make way for him. Some lowered their heads. Others met his gaze with fierce respect.

No one called him Omega.

They were trying to make sense of what they had seen. The keep felt different now.

Ryder stood still.

Eyrix stood across from him, firelight gilding his hair, shadows moving strangely around his silhouette.

Then Eyrix looked at him.

Ryder’s breath punched out of his lungs. Inside him, his wolf proud, battle hardened, undefeated went utterly still.

And then it knelt, the sensation was violent in its quiet. Just the sudden, bone-deep understanding that something greater stood before it.

Ryder’s hands curled into fists at his sides as instinct screamed at him to lower his head, bare his throat, submit.

Ryder Blackfang did not submit but his wolf wanted to.

Terror slid cold down his spine.

Eyrix blinked, clearly feeling it too. “Ryder?”

The pressure eased instantly, like a tide pulled back by an unseen moon. Ryder sucked in a sharp breath, grounding himself with the scrape of his boots against stone.

“Don’t do that,” he said hoarsely.

Eyrix frowned. “Do what?”

“Look at me like that”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Eyrix said slowly. “I just felt you.”

Ryder turned away, dragging a hand through his hair. He had faced warlords, ancient beasts, entire packs united against him. Nothing had ever made his instincts bend without a fight.

“You didn’t force it,” Ryder said.

Eyrix’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t want control over you.”

“I know,” Ryder said. And he did. That was the terrifying part. “But wanting has nothing to do with what you are.”

Eyrix swallowed. The confidence he’d worn in the yard cracked just slightly. “Say it.”

Ryder faced him again. “You’re no normal Omega.”