3. Chapter

Dawn’s light hasn’t yet reached the base of Blackrock when I wake. Between the walls the cold bites to the bone again, and in the storeroom everyone tries to steal one more minute from nothing without moving. I can’t sleep. My body hurts, my thoughts tick, and some deep, instinctive warning won’t let me rest.

Outside, the pack is already stirring in the corridors. I hear the thud of boots, the orders, the metallic ring of weapons. The Red Moon men are still here. The wolves smell the foreign scent and grow edgy from it—as if every breath reminds them that someone stronger walks among them.

I get up and try to smooth my hair, but half of it comes out in the comb. One girl whispers to me:

“Better not draw Mara’s attention today. Kian was in a biting mood yesterday.”

“He always is,” I answer softly, and head to the washroom.

The water is ice-cold; my hands turn blue in it. But the cold wakes me. Gooseflesh runs along my skin, my breathing evens out. My body isn’t mine anymore—just a machine I’ve trained to survive.

Morning is the usual chaos. Mara hands out assignments. I get the upper corridors—the rooms before the guest wing. My heart tightens. The Red Moon men are sleeping there. That man, too. Zane.

I shouldn’t know his name, but the pack whispered about him last night when everything went quiet. The man who sat at the end of the table, the Alpha of Red Moon, the one they only call “the man whose anger makes Wolves tremble.” Zander Varon. Zane.

Two buckets, rags, brushes. That’s what I carry. When I reach the corridor, two guards stand at the guest-wing door. One looks at me, bored; the other leans on the wall.

“Cleaning,” I say. I don’t meet their eyes.

The older one nods and steps aside.

Inside, it’s silent. The guest rooms are larger, roomier; fine rugs cover the stone, and the air holds a foreign smoky scent. No sound from any of the rooms. I move slowly down the corridor, door to door. At the third room I stop because I hear something. Deep, steady breathing.

The door is half open. I see only the fire flickering low in the hearth and someone sitting beside it. Dark hair, broad shoulders. The collar of a black shirt open, light glinting on skin.

Zane.

My stomach tightens. I’m already about to back away when his voice stops me.

“You can come in.”

My body reacts on its own: my back straightens, my steps careful, like prey walking into a trap. I enter. The bucket handle creaks in my hand.

His eyes flash to me. That same green I saw over the wine last night, but more alive now. Alert. A wolf’s stare.

“I didn’t think they’d send you here,” he says quietly. Not friendly, not threatening. Just stating a fact.

“We do the guest rooms every morning,” I reply. My voice is measured, not trembling—but not certain either. It’s a balancing act.

“Elariana, right?” My name comes naturally from his mouth, as if he’s always known it.

I nod.

“Yes, sir.”

For a moment he just looks. The air smells of wolf, smoke, iron, and something deep and raw—a heartbeat. I don’t know if it’s his or mine.

“Yesterday… I saw you,” he says. “Next to Kian.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Yes, sir. I just—”

“Just?”

“…served.”

His eyes narrow, as if weighing something.

“You’re afraid of him.”

He doesn’t ask. He states it. My hand clenches on the bucket’s handle.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Don’t lie to me. Your wolf was already curled in on itself the moment I stepped into the hall.”

The word your wolf cuts into me like someone speaking a secret aloud. The part of me I try to smother at all costs stirs.

“I… my wolf doesn’t…” I swallow the end of the sentence. I can’t say it’s weak. That it’s chained.

“You don’t hear her, do you?” he asks. His voice is soft, but no longer cold. There’s a shade of sadness in it.

I don’t answer. Because he’s right. And that truth burns.

Zane rises slowly. Every movement has weight. He doesn’t rush, yet danger is in every second. My wolf tries to growl, but only a low, stifled sound comes—like a dog kept on a chain.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says at last. “If you think every Alpha is like that bastard Kian, you’re wrong.”

My heart stutters. The word he uses doesn’t fit his cool, commanding tone. But there’s real anger in it—something true.

“He… is the Alpha’s son,” I whisper.

“And I’m the one even Alphas fear.” His voice hardens. “Rank doesn’t interest me. What he’s done to you does.”

I don’t know what to say. The words I’ve learned don’t work here. Yes, sir. No, sir. This conversation speaks another language. His language. The wolves’ language.

“Go before someone sees you,” he says then. “This pack doesn’t like its guests talking too much with their servants.”

I nod, but my feet don’t move. My gaze slips to an object on the table: a pendant scratched with a knife, a wolf’s head carved into it. In the metal a red-moon motif is burned. Somewhere deep, I feel it’s more than a badge. It’s something ancient.

“Is that your pack’s symbol?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Zane looks at me. His green eyes aren’t cold now, but sharply attentive.

“Yes. But not the one you see on today’s maps. Our bloodline is older than the mountains that divide us. Red Moon isn’t an alliance. It’s a blood-bond.”

His voice drops deeper, and for some reason my wolf responds. For a heartbeat, I truly feel her. A rumble, from low under my ribs. Not a sound—more like a memory. My hand tightens on the bucket handle; my eyes want to close, but I don’t dare.

“Go,” he says again. Now it’s a command. But not like Kian’s words. This isn’t harm. It’s protection.

I turn and step into the corridor. The guards look on, bored, and I hurry. My chest is crowded with a feeling I can’t name. Not fear, but not safety either. More like… attention. As if someone inside me is waking—someone I buried long ago.

⸻

Near midday Kian sends word that he needs me in the dining hall. When I step in, his eyes land on me at once.

“Where were you this morning?” he asks.

“I was cleaning the guest wing, sir.”

“Their Alpha’s room too?”

A heartbeat of silence. It’s not a question. It’s a trap.

“All the rooms,” I say at last.

Kian smiles. The smile that chills my blood.

“And what did he say to you, hm? Ask how many straps I’d use in bed?”

The soldiers by the wall snicker. My face burns, but I lower my head.

“I only did the cleaning, sir.”

“Sure.” He stands, comes closer, slides a finger under my chin and lifts my face. “But if I see you lift your eyes to his again, I’ll rip that pretty hair right off you. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

The words cut into me. Not because of his tone—but because for the first time I feel that from someone else those words would mean something different.

Kian lets go and leaves. My heart still pounds, my hands ball into fists. Inside, my wolf growls again. Louder than ever.

⸻

Later, when the sun is already setting and the mountain’s belly glows orange, I go to the inner courtyard to fetch water. The air is cool but fresh. Outsiders aren’t allowed here, so I’m alone. Or so I think.

When the bucket fills, a shadow moves by the well. Reflex— I spring back, hands to my chest as if that could protect anything.

“Easy.”

Zane stands there in a black coat, his hair wet as if he’s just washed. His body strains the fabric, the air around him thicker than anywhere else.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper. “If they see…”

“They’ve seen worse,” he says. “Since last night, every wolf in this mountain has been talking about you.”

I go still.

“About me?”

“Yes. That a slave girl dared speak up in front of Kian. That the Alpha didn’t snap your neck on the spot. That your hair is snow-white—like the Ancient Bloodlines’.”

My lungs catch on the air.

“That’s just… genetics.”

Zane allows a half-smile.

“Maybe. But wolves don’t see genetics. They smell blood. And yours isn’t ordinary.”

I step back. Not far—just a pace—but he notices.

“You’re afraid of me?”

“I… I’m not…”

“Of course you are.” He comes closer, slowly. “Your body lies. Your heart doesn’t. Every part of you is screaming to run.”

My back hits the wall. His hand halts in the air; he doesn’t touch me, yet I feel the heat.

“If I touch you, you’ll flinch. If I speak, you stop breathing. Who the hell hurt you this badly, Elariana?”

His voice is harder now, his words stripped bare. The Alpha isn’t trying to charm me. He’s dragging the truth out. But I can’t say it. I mustn’t.

“It… it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. Because if you were in my pack, no one would dare lay a hand on you like that.”

If you were in my pack leaves a strange tingling behind. Dangerous. Forbidden.

Zane looks at me a moment longer, then steps back.

“Red Moon leaves at dawn. We won’t be here long. But keep your ears open. Blackrock is rotting. And when it starts to fall, don’t stand beneath it.”

He turns and goes.

I stay by the well. The moon’s light trembles on the water’s surface, and for the first time I truly feel that something has begun.

The air is different. There’s whispering behind the walls, as if the mountain itself were listening.

My wolf speaks softly, but clearly:

“The Alpha has scented you.”

I don’t know exactly what that means, but I know nothing will be the same after this.

Because once Zane’s eyes have found you, there’s no more running.

The strongest wolf in the world looked at me—and my chains shivered.