Ch. 9: The Alpha’s Betrayal

The wind changed first.

Kaelira felt it before she saw the smoke—sharp and acrid, blowing down from the north. The air tasted of iron and ash. Her stomach knotted.

“Vyrden Hollow,” she whispered.

Zevran’s eyes lifted toward the horizon, where a column of black smoke spiraled against the pale dawn. His expression didn’t move, but the muscle along his jaw did. “Your pack.”

Her heart stuttered. “No. They wouldn’t—Draven wouldn’t—”

But even as she said his name, the scent hit her. Wolf blood. Burned wood. Dominion steel.

They broke into a run.

The forest gave way to open ground, frost crunching under their boots. By the time they reached the ridgeline above the Hollow, the once-hidden village lay exposed—a wound carved into the valley. Smoke curled from shattered rooftops. The ritual stone, where Kaelira had taken her trial, stood cracked down the center.

Bodies littered the square. Not all wolves.

“Dominion soldiers,” Zevran murmured, kneeling beside a corpse marked with silver runes. “Your Alpha made a deal.”

Kaelira stared, chest hollow. “He wouldn’t.”

“He did.” Zevran’s tone was quiet but certain. “They always do, in the end. Power for protection.”

Something inside her snapped. She stalked toward the ruins, ignoring his warning call. “Stay here if you want. I’m finding him.”

⸻

She found Draven near the old well, alive, unmarked, standing over a Dominion officer like he’d just finished a conversation instead of a slaughter. His cloak was torn, but his eyes—gray and cold as stone—were steady.

When he turned and saw her, his smile was almost fond.

“Kaelira.”

The sound of her name in his voice still scraped something raw inside her. “What did you do?”

“I saved us,” Draven said simply. “The Dominion offered terms. We give them the witch-blood they seek, and they leave the Hollow intact.”

Her pulse pounded. “You gave them me?”

He spread his hands. “You were never one of us, Kaelira. You were a danger waiting to happen.”

Zevran’s shadow moved between them before she could lunge. His voice dropped to steel. “And what price did they pay you to betray your own blood?”

Draven’s eyes flicked over him with contempt. “So the rumors are true. The Lycan King playing guardian to his weapon. How noble.” His lip curled. “Tell me, Majesty—how long before she turns on you too?”

Kaelira pushed past Zevran. “You don’t get to speak to him.”

Her voice came out low, dangerous. “You don’t get to speak to me.”

Draven tilted his head. “The Dominion will have her, one way or another. You can’t protect her from what she is.”

Zevran’s claws slid from his fingertips with a quiet, deliberate sound. “Try me.”

For a second, Kaelira thought Draven might laugh. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a strip of silver-etched parchment. The smell of blood magic rolled off it. “You think you’re bonded to her,” he said, eyes gleaming. “You’re not. You’re anchored. The Dominion forged that seal centuries ago to keep the Flamebound under control.”

The ground seemed to tilt beneath Kaelira’s feet. “What are you talking about?”

Draven smiled. “Your bond isn’t a miracle, little wolf. It’s a leash. He pulls it, you burn. You pull it, he breaks.”

Zevran’s body went still. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it?” Draven’s voice softened into mock pity. “You feel her pain, don’t you? Her hunger, her rage? The Dominion created the tether to drain her power into something controllable. You were the chosen vessel.” He leaned closer, his voice almost kind. “Congratulations, King. You’re the cage.”

Kaelira’s breath came fast. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He tossed the blood-rune at her feet. The sigils glowed faintly red, humming in sync with the mark on her wrist. Her skin burned instantly.

She staggered back, clutching her arm. “Zev—”

The tether between them flared white-hot. Zevran’s body jerked as if struck. The same pain tore through him, his knees hitting the ground.

Draven watched, fascinated. “See? Cause and effect.”

Kaelira forced herself upright, fighting the pain. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“Oh, I do,” Draven said, stepping closer. “I’ve given the Dominion exactly what they wanted—proof that the Flamebound bond still works.”

He lifted a horn to his lips and blew.

The sound that followed wasn’t a note—it was a command.

From the woods, Dominion soldiers stepped into view, armored and silent. Half a dozen wolves followed them, eyes glassy, marked with runes that glowed like open wounds. Her pack.

Kaelira’s throat tightened. “You turned them.”

Draven’s expression didn’t flicker. “Better slaves than corpses.”

Something inside her broke cleanly. The fire came before she could stop it—a blinding arc that ripped the sky apart. Soldiers dove aside; wolves shrieked. When the smoke cleared, Draven stood untouched within a shield of shimmering runes, smirking.

Zevran struggled to his feet beside her, still pale, still shaking. “Kaelira—stop.”

“He sold them,” she hissed. “He sold us.”

“Then don’t give him what he wants.”

Her flames trembled, caught between fury and grief. For a heartbeat she thought she could control it—and then the bond snapped again, sending a shock through her body that made her scream. Zevran staggered, one hand pressed to his chest as if he felt every drop of her pain.

Draven lowered the horn, satisfaction curling his mouth. “There it is. The leash.”

Zevran raised his head, eyes silver fire. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“Have I?”

Zevran’s smile was small and merciless. “You think you’re controlling her. But you don’t understand what she is.”

He turned toward Kaelira, his voice a low command. “Look at me.”

She did.

“Breathe,” he said. “Don’t fight the pain. Let it burn through you.”

Her pulse thundered, the tether between them glowing brighter and brighter until it turned blinding white. For a heartbeat, she felt everything—his strength, his rage, his will—and then her power poured out, not as flame, but as light.

The runes protecting Draven shattered.

He stumbled backward, eyes wide, as the Dominion soldiers screamed. The wolves fell where they stood, unconscious, freed from the binding spells.

When the light faded, Kaelira stood alone in the ash, panting, her mark dimming back to gold. Draven was gone—fled into the forest, the stench of burnt magic marking his path.

Zevran swayed beside her. She caught his arm before he fell.

He looked at her, breath ragged. “He’s right about one thing.”

“What?”

“Our bond isn’t natural.”

Kaelira met his gaze, anger and something colder twisting in her chest. “Then we break it.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is,” she said bitterly.

⸻

They buried the fallen wolves as the sun rose. The Hollow smoldered around them, the air thick with the scent of burnt pine and loss. Zevran stood a little apart, his expression unreadable.

When Kaelira finally joined him, she said quietly, “He’s still out there.”

Zevran nodded. “And now he knows exactly how powerful you are.”

She looked toward the treeline where Draven had vanished. “Then he knows enough to be afraid.”

The wind caught her hair, tossing embers through the smoke. For an instant, the tether between them glowed faintly again—unbidden, alive.

Zevran’s voice was soft. “You’ll burn this world down before you’re done.”

Kaelira’s answer came without hesitation. “Only if it deserves it.”