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CHAPTER 33: SEAT OF KNIVES
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2026-08-15 21:06:37
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Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna Chapter 37: THREE CLAIMS
POV: LunaThe light comes in wrong. Not the color. The angle. It hits the canvas at a slant that shouldn't exist for this hour, too thin, like the sun itself is leaning away from us.My palm is still pressed to Jace's chest. His skin gives off a dry, blistering heat, the kind that scorches wool black at the edges. The cot beneath him is ruined. Across the tent, Aiden's breath fogs. Rime crystals web the canvas behind his skull, clicking and splitting as they spread.A fish-hooked tension catches beneath my breastbone. Tears sideways."It's back." My voice scrapes out. Sleep-thick. I push up on one elbow. Jace's eyes stay shut, but the muscle in his jaw knots and releases. Knots and releases. "Aiden. Wake up."Silver eyes open. Already counting. He presses two fingers to his own wrist and holds them there."Six hours." Flat. "The grounding held six. It needed fourteen."I hear it under the numbers. Not fear. Something worse. His thumb presses too hard against his pulse point. The skin
Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna CHAPTER 36: TWIN CORE FRACTURE
POV: JaceThe rogue's shoulder gives under my claws with a wet pop. I'm half a heartbeat slow. Steel skims my ribs, barely breaking skin, and heat spreads beneath my shirt before I register the cut. The body under me reeks of wet fur and rust.I shove it off. Somewhere behind my sternum, Zara's voice repeats. Not the threat. The other part.I'll kill for you. Three years since anyone bled for me without keeping score.The southern wall gives. Draveth pour through the gap and my Jathorne line crashes into them. Greasy pine-smoke settles low in the corridor, clinging to the salt and bitterness on my tongue.Aiden's voice pierces the Link Call. "Left corridor. Four hostiles. Jace, rotate your line twelve degrees south.""Don't angle me like a supply line, Aiden.""Then stop bleeding on my map."The old wound twitches. Six years of being managed, positioned, moved like a pin on a board. I shove it down and drive my claws through the nearest Draveth throat.And that's when the bond starts
Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna CHAPTER 35: ZARA'S EDGE
POV: ZaraMy claws are still wet.I press them against the corridor wall and feel the moisture bead along the steel tips before I register what it is. Iron-rail condensation. From gripping the railing outside the war room while Aiden's voice cracked open like old timber. I didn't exile you. I hid you.Six years of me guarding a ghost. Six years I spent sharpening blades for a man I thought was thrown away, and he was tucked under a mattress the whole time.I drag the steel tips of my blade-guards across the unmortared stone, leaving long white scores. The scrape steadies me. One breath. Two. I keep walking.The stairwell smells of damp rock and spent torch-oil. Beneath it, I catch pear skin and clean cotton, faint jasmine underneath. Luna's trail. I hate that my nose files her automatically. Files her as close. As the one Jace bleeds for.Two guards round the landing and see me. Their shoulders tighten. They step aside without a word, boots scraping stone, eyes dropping to my blade-gu
Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna CHAPTER 34: EXILE'S LEDGER
POV: LunaThe chamber is empty now. I walk to the circle where Jace stood. The stone is warm under my palm. Not from the torches. From him. The black wolf went so deep into his ribs that the heat is already fading.He didn't fight back. He just stopped.The stone cools fast under my fingers. Like it's forgetting him. I won't.I press my hand flat and hold it there until the warmth dies under my skin. Then I pull away and follow the sound of boots grinding stone three corridors down.The war room door is open. Aiden's voice comes low, measured, counting something under his breath the way he counts casualties after a raid. Jace's pacing rhythm hits me before I cross the threshold. I know that rhythm.I know the exact moment the pace changes, too. Three steps when he's angry. Four when he's trying not to be.I step inside just as Jace slams a folded letter onto the war table. The pine groans under the impact. Aiden doesn't bend. He sits with his thumbs interlocked, fingers tapping a slow
Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna CHAPTER 33: SEAT OF KNIVES
POV: JaceThe sigil still burns under my skin, buzzing behind my teeth. I don't get time to deal with it.Three guards close around me. Not walking with me. Walking around me, hands resting on their hilts. One of them; thick-necked woman, scar cutting through one eyebrow; speaks without turning her head."Seat's in session. Keep walking or I drag you into the circle myself."I keep walking. My knuckles are split raw. Lemon leaf and hot leather cling to my skin, souring at the edges. My own scent turns on me.They don't want an answer. They want a show.Thick oak roots split the ceiling masonry overhead, shedding dried mud onto the flagstones. The corridor narrows until my shoulders nearly brush both walls. Then the archway opens and Talonsage takes me in.Twelve stone seats in a crescent. Living oak banded with black iron. The pit smells of damp oakmoss, lye, and the copper tang of old blood worked deep into the mortar.Twelve Elders sit above me. Vetiver hits my nose, sharp enough to
Claimed By Four: The White Wolf Luna CHAPTER 32: Vibration Thief
POV: AidenThe torches don't gutter. They inhale.Every flame bends toward the floor like the stone below just drew breath. My hand finds Luna's shoulder in the blackness, not gentle, just there, my thumb settling into the groove of her collarbone. Her pulse strikes the bone in rapid, erratic thuds, and I'm already counting. One. Two. Three. Too fast."Nobody moves," I say. "Breathe through your nose. Count the stone under your boots.""I can smell him." Jace's voice cuts across me from the dark. "Under the floor. Wet iron and old smoke. He's been here longer than three days." He's right. Cold sweat soaked into wool, charred rosemary from the garrison's last cook-fire, and a faint sweetness like overripe plums splitting in heat. I log every scent in order, but that sweetness coats my back teeth like resin, defying classification. A sliver of unmapped noise in my ledger.Then the voice speaks. Not through my ears. Through the base of my skull, the hinge of my jaw, the roots of my teeth
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