Shadow Moves

The moon hung low and watchful in the night sky, cloaked by drifting clouds that rolled like whispers over the forest canopy. Somewhere in the distance, a lone wolf howled, its call slicing through the hush of midnight like a warning no one could quite understand. But inside Ronan’s estate, something darker stirred than the creatures of the night.

The spy moved quickly, his cloak billowing behind him, boots barely making a sound against the packed dirt. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat a countdown to disaster. Kieran had been captured. Worse, he had been seen—seen talking in the shadows, and now, locked away by Derek’s guards. The news had hit like a dagger in the ribs. If Kieran talked...

He paused outside the hidden side gate of Ronan’s estate, gave three sharp knocks in a specific rhythm, and was ushered in by a silent guard who didn’t speak a word. Within minutes, he was standing before Ronan.

Ronan sat alone in the study, the room dimly lit by the glow of a few dying candles. Maps and scrolls were scattered across the desk like the remnants of a storm. His pale eyes lifted when the spy entered, and in that moment, they were colder than steel.

"This had better be worth waking me," Ronan said without looking up from a parchment he’d been examining.

"It is," the spy whispered, voice tight with urgency. "Kieran’s been captured. Derek’s men have him. He was seen... talking to someone. One of the palace guards followed him. They saw him. He’s locked up now."

Ronan didn’t react for a heartbeat. Then his fingers tightened around the quill in his hand and snapped it in half. Ink spattered across the map.

"And you’re just telling me this now?" he growled.

"I came as fast as I could. I had to make sure I wasn’t followed. If they break him... if they torture him... he’ll give everything away."

Ronan stood slowly, towering over the spy. There was no panic in him—only that coiled tension, like the moment before a predator pounced.

"How much does Kieran know?"

"Too much," the spy admitted. "The names. The secret meetings. Even the shipment routes for the silver. If they get any of that out of him, we’re finished."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Ronan turned to the window, staring out into the night.

"We need to get him out," he said quietly. "Tonight."

The spy shifted on his feet. "And Diva?"

Ronan’s lips curled into something almost like a smile. "Yes. We take her too. If Derek is getting close, she’s the key to his distraction. She’s always been."

"Do you want her dead or alive?"

Ronan turned slowly, his gaze deadly sharp. "Alive. Unharmed. Seems like Derek is begining to b come unease then it's time for us to break the bond and destroy him."

He walked to a cabinet and pulled open a drawer, removing a thick scroll and unrolling it over the desk. It was a layout of the prison wing.

"I’ve studied their guard rotations. There’s a blind spot here, between the outer corridor and the east stairwell. You’ll go in with the rogue team through the lower tunnel. It was used for drainage years ago, now it’s forgotten. You’ll breach through there."

"How many men?" the spy asked.

"Five. Not more. Too many and they’ll be noticed. I want Jonric, Vex, Mallor, and the twins."

The spy flinched. Even among Ronan’s people, those names carried weight. Jonric was a sadist. Vex had once torn out a man’s tongue just for lying poorly. And the twins? They were whispered about in taverns as shadows made flesh.

"They’ll do it right," Ronan said. "If anyone can get in and out without leaving a trace, it’s them."

He began marking the parchment with a charcoal stick, drawing their route and writing names beside each point. "They’ll go in two hours before dawn. Most of the guards are sleep-deep then. You’ll extract Kieran first. Then you move to the servant quarters. Diva is there at night, yes?"

The spy nodded.

"Good. Bag her. Blindfold. No marks. No bruises. I want her useful."

The spy hesitated. "She’s... well, she’s protected. Some of the wolves are loyal to her."

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. "Then deal with them. Silently. I don’t want anyone alerting Derek before we’re done."

There was a beat of silence. Then, from the hallway, came the sharp click of boots. A woman entered, tall and sharp-featured, dressed in dark grey. Elara. Ronan’s chief enforcer.

"I heard," she said before either of them spoke. "About Kieran. About the plan."

"I didn’t call for you," Ronan said.

"You don’t have to. I go where the operation needs me. And this? It’s the turning point."

Ronan said nothing, but didn’t dismiss her.

"You’ll need someone on the inside," Elara said. "Someone to cut power to the lamps when they move in. Someone to block reinforcements."

Ronan studied her, then gave a small nod. "Fine. You’ll coordinate from the inside. You have one job—keep the palace blind."

Elara smirked. "Already taken care of. I have a man in the torch room. At the signal, he’ll knock out the power. They won’t know what hit them."

The spy exhaled slowly. It was all coming together too quickly, too efficiently. And yet, beneath it all, was something that unsettled him: the fact that Kieran, for all his arrogance, had still been caught. It meant they weren’t as untouchable as they’d believed.

Ronan leaned on the desk, pressing both hands flat on the parchment. "This is our only chance. If we don’t get Kieran out before the interrogation begins, we’re all finished. Every one of us."

His eyes darted to Elara. "And Diva—if she’s half as important to Derek as I suspect—she’ll be our leverage."

Elara nodded. "We’ll use her like a blade to his throat."

Ronan’s mouth twisted. "Exactly."

He straightened and looked at them both.

"Go. Prepare the team. Tell them: no mistakes. No sound. No survivors if anyone gets in their way."

The spy bowed and left in a hurry, heart still racing. Elara followed soon after, already giving orders to the shadows that clung to the hallways.

Alone, Ronan turned back to the window.

The moon had moved slightly, slipping behind a thicker cloud. The wind stirred the trees below, and he thought—for just a second—that he heard something strange. Like the growl of a wolf that wasn’t natural. A shiver ran through him.

But he shook it off.

Tomorrow, everything would change. Either they would reclaim control...

Or it would all burn.