Chapter Five: The First Blood

The letter arrived at dawn.

Elara found it tucked under her breakfast tray—a folded piece of parchment sealed with black wax stamped with the Shadowfang crest. Her uncle's crest. Her mother's murderer's crest.

Her hands shook as she broke the seal.

To the so-called Alpha of the Nightshade Dominion,

You harbor a Null. A curse. A thing with no wolf and no worth. She is not your mate—the Moon Goddess does not bless filth with such honor. She is a runaway slave, and by the old laws, she belongs to me.

Return her within seven days, or I will come for her myself. And when I do, I will not come alone. The eastern packs have long wondered if your Dominion is as strong as you claim. Give me a reason to show them the answer.

Blood calls to blood.

—Alpha Derrick of Shadowfang

P.S. Ask the Null about her mother's last night. She knows more than she has told you.

Elara read the letter three times. Then she set it down, walked to the window, and pressed her forehead against the cold glass.

She knows more than she has told you.

She did. She knew everything. She knew that Derrick had come to her mother's chambers the night before the fever. She knew that her mother had screamed. She knew that in the morning, her mother's throat was bruised and her eyes were empty, and the healer had called it a "sudden illness."

She knew that she had been six years old, hiding under the bed, and she had done nothing.

Nothing.

A knock at the door. She didn't turn.

Kaelen's voice: "You read it."

She nodded.

"Open the door, Elara."

She crossed the room and opened it. Kaelen stood in the corridor, already dressed for training—leather tunic, vambraces, his black hair loose. He looked at her face, then at the letter in her hand.

"You're pale," he said.

I'm always pale.

"Paler than usual." He stepped inside and closed the door. "What did he write?"

She handed him the letter. He read it in silence. His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened from red to something closer to black. When he finished, he crumpled the parchment in his fist.

"Seven days," he said. "He thinks I'm afraid of him."

Are you? she wrote.

Kaelen looked at her like she had asked if the sky was green. "No. But I'm not going to let him take you."

He'll bring the eastern packs.

"Let him." Kaelen tossed the crumpled letter into the fireplace. The flames caught it, devoured it. "I've killed Alphas before. I'll kill him too."

Elara watched the paper turn to ash. Her uncle's words, gone. But the weight of them remained.

She wrote: He mentioned my mother.

Kaelen's expression shifted. Something softer bled through the iron. "Do you want to tell me about her?"

She shook her head.

"Okay."

You're not curious?

"I'm curious about everything when it comes to you." He moved closer. Not touching. Just present. "But I don't need to know your wounds to protect you. I only need to know you want me to."

She stared at him. This man—this arrogant, brutal, terrifying man—was giving her something she had never been given before.

Choice.

She wrote: I'll tell you someday. Not today.

"Someday is enough." He opened the door. "Now come. You have a training dummy to hit. And today, I'm adding a new exercise."

What?

He looked back at her. A ghost of a smile played at his lips.

"You're going to run."

---

The run nearly killed her.

Kaelen led her out of the fortress, past the walls, into the pine forest. The ground was uneven, tangled with roots and rocks. The air was cold and thin. He ran at an easy jog—easy for him, impossible for her.

By the first mile, her lungs were on fire.

By the second, her legs were jelly.

By the third, she collapsed.

She hit the ground hard, palms scraping against pine needles. Her vision swam. Her brand throbbed. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't—

"Up."

Kaelen stood over her. Not winded. Not even sweating.

She shook her head.

"I didn't ask if you could. I said up."

She pushed herself to her hands and knees. Her arms trembled. Her ribs screamed.

"Up," he said again.

She stood.

Her legs buckled immediately. She would have fallen again, but his arm caught her waist, hauled her against his chest. Her face pressed into his shoulder. He smelled like pine and smoke and him.

"You're done," he said quietly. "For today."

She wanted to argue. She had no breath to argue with.

He carried her back to the fortress. Wolves watched from the walls—curious, judgmental, impressed. She didn't care. She was too tired to care.

He didn't put her down until they reached her room. He set her on the bed, knelt, and removed her shoes. His hands were gentle on her blistered feet.

"This is going to hurt," he said.

He was right. It did. But she didn't cry.

When he finished bandaging her feet, he sat back on his heels and looked at her. "You didn't quit."

I wanted to.

"I know. But you didn't."

Is that enough?

"It's everything." He stood. "Rest. No training tonight. Tomorrow, we do it again."

Every day?

"Every day. Until you can run ten miles without stopping. Until you can hit me. Until you are no longer afraid." He paused at the door. "Elara."

She looked up.

"Your mother," he said. "You were a child. There was nothing you could have done."

Her throat closed.

"You survived," he continued. "That is the only thing that matters."

He left.

Elara lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her feet throbbed. Her lungs burned. Her heart ached in a way that had nothing to do with exercise.

You survived.

She had. For twenty-two years, she had survived.

But for the first time, she wondered if surviving was enough.

Or if she was ready to start living.

---

The nightmares came that night.

Derrick's face. Her mother's bruises. The brand burning, always burning. She woke with a scream trapped in her ruined throat, drenched in sweat, clawing at the sheets.

The door opened before she could move.

Kaelen stood in the doorway, shirtless, sword in hand. His eyes swept the room—checking for threats—and found none. Only her.

"Nightmare?" he asked.

She nodded.

He set the sword aside. Crossed the room. Sat on the edge of her bed.

"Do you want me to stay?"

She hesitated. Every instinct said no. Every instinct said don't trust, don't need, don't want.

But her hand moved before her mind could stop it.

She wrote on his palm: Please.

Kaelen lay down beside her. Not touching. Just present. His warmth radiated across the small space between them.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch."

She closed her eyes.

For the first time in five years, Elara slept through the night without dreaming.