CHAPTER 6: THE BLOOD BINDING DISCOVERY

The silver collar around my neck pulsed with a dull, rhythmic ache, dampening my senses and making every step toward the servant quarters feel like wading through chest-high mud. Caleb and Marcus had left me with a final warning: Stay in your room or lose your tongue. But the fire burning in my gut wouldn't let me sit still. If Caleb was complicit in Seraphina’s "stabilization" efforts, then the man I loved had died years ago in the ruins of the Iron-Claw pack.

I didn't go to the kitchens. I didn't go to my cell. Instead, I ducked into the shadows of the grand staircase, heading toward the guest wing—the suite currently occupied by the "Luna-to-be."

The hallways were suspiciously quiet. Most of the guards were at the perimeter, preparing for the upcoming eclipse ceremony. I slipped into Seraphina’s suite, the scent of those lilies and that chemical poison hitting me like a physical wall.

"Looking for a way out, Elara?" a voice didn't say. The room was empty.

I went straight for her luggage—heavy, iron-bound trunks that looked more like armory crates than a lady’s wardrobe. I threw open the lid of the smallest one. Silk dresses were tossed aside until my hand hit something cold, hard, and wrapped in black velvet.

I unwrapped it, and my breath hitched.

It was a ritual dagger, its blade curved like a crescent moon and forged from darkened silver. But it wasn't the blade that made my heart stop; it was the hilt. Encased in clear resin at the base of the handle was the Silver-Moon family crest. Caleb’s crest.

"What are you doing in here?"

I spun around, the dagger still in my hand. Sarah, my former handmaid, stood in the doorway, her face pale.

"Sarah, look at this," I whispered, holding up the weapon. "This belongs to Caleb’s bloodline. Why does an assassin from the Obsidian Crest have it hidden in her trunk?"

"Elara, put it back and run," Sarah hissed, checking the hallway. "If Seraphina finds you—"

"She’s already tried to kill me once tonight! I’m past the point of caution. Look at the etching on the blade, Sarah. These aren't just decorative marks. These are runes for a blood-binding."

"A blood-binding?" Sarah stepped closer, her curiosity overcoming her fear. "You mean for a pack treaty?"

"No," I said, my voice trembling as the pieces began to click into a horrifying picture. "Caleb told the pack they were fated mates. Everyone felt the 'spark' when they walked in together. But look at the dried residue in these grooves. It’s not just one person’s blood."

"Whose is it?"

"It’s hers... and his." I ran my finger over the crest. "Sarah, there was no Moon Goddess involvement. There was no divine spark. They used this. They performed a forbidden ritual to mimic the mate bond. They faked the hand of destiny."

"A fake bond?"

The voice didn't come from Sarah. It came from the doorway. Marcus stood there, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at the dagger in my hand and then at me, a dark, amused smile on his face.

"You were always too smart for your own good, Elara," Marcus said. "Caleb told me you’d find it. He bet Seraphina a hundred gold marks that you’d be in this room within the hour."

"He knew?" I felt like I was suffocating. "He let me find this?"

"He wanted you to understand," Marcus said, stepping into the room. "The pack wouldn't accept a merger with the Obsidian Crest just for money. They’re traditionalists. They need the 'Fated Mate' story to swallow the pill. So, Caleb made one."

"He lied to his own people," I spat. "He lied to me."

"He did what an Alpha does," Marcus countered. "He secured a future. You were just a remnant of a past he couldn't afford anymore. Now, give me the dagger."

"Come and get it, you traitor," I said, bracing myself.

Marcus lunged, his hand reaching for my throat. I didn't back down. I used the momentum of his own weight, swinging the heavy velvet-wrapped sheath of the dagger upward. It caught him square under the jaw with a sickening crunch.

He stumbled back, blood spurting from his lip. "You little..."

"I’m tired of being the victim in this story, Marcus!" I yelled. "You and Caleb think you can just rewrite reality because it’s convenient? The Moon Goddess doesn't take kindly to being forged."

"The Moon Goddess is a ghost story for pups!" Marcus roared, wiping his mouth. "Power is the only thing that’s real. And right now, you have none."

He pulled his sword, the steel singing as it cleared the scabbard. Sarah screamed and bolted for the door, but Marcus didn't care about her. He wanted me.

"Why keep me alive?" I asked, backing toward the balcony. "If the bond is fake and you have the merge, why the servant quarters? Why the 'harvest'?"

Marcus laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You still don't get it? The ritual that fakes the bond isn't permanent, Elara. It needs a battery. It needs a constant source of 'pure' wolf energy to keep the illusion from breaking."

"And since I’m a 'breeder' from a high-bloodline line..." I whispered.

"Exactly. Your life force is being drained to power their 'fated' spark. Every time Caleb kisses her and the pack feels that fake warmth, it’s because you are getting weaker. The collar around your neck isn't just to keep you quiet. It’s a siphon."

I looked down at the silver collar. It was glowing now, a faint, sickly violet light that matched the runes on the dagger. My strength was flagging. My knees felt like they were made of water.

"If I die, the bond breaks," I said.

"Which is why we keep you in the cellar," Marcus grinned, stepping closer. "Just enough food to keep your heart beating, just enough pain to keep the energy flowing. You're not a servant, Elara. You’re the engine of this new empire."

The door to the suite slammed shut. Seraphina stood there, her eyes glowing with that unnatural violet light. She looked at Marcus, then at the dagger in my hand.

"She found the toy, Marcus," Seraphina purred. "I told you she would."

"She’s more trouble than she’s worth," Marcus grumbled. "Let me just break her legs so she stays put."

"No," Seraphina said, walking toward me. "The ritual requires her to be whole. For now."

She reached out, taking the dagger from my weakening grip. I tried to resist, but the collar pulsed, sending a shock of agony through my nervous system that dropped me to my knees.

"Caleb is waiting," Seraphina whispered, leaning down to my ear. "He wants to show you the final part of the contract."

"What... what contract?" I gasped.

Seraphina smiled, and for the first time, I saw the true depth of the horror. She pulled a piece of parchment from her bodice—a contract signed in Caleb’s blood.

"The one where he trades your soul for the crown," she whispered. "But here’s the twist, Elara: He didn't just fake the bond with me."

"What do you mean?"

"He faked the bond with you three years ago," she laughed, the sound echoing in the empty room. "He used the same ritual to make you think he was your savior. You were never his 'chosen' one. You were his first experiment."

I looked up at her, my world shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. Every memory, every kiss, every promise... it was all a lie. A three-year-long ritual.

"Now," Seraphina said, gesturing to the guards. "Take the 'source' to the altar. It’s time for the final drain."