The Fang in the Dark

Chapter 5*

The howl split the night like a blade.  

Aria’s hand tightened around Lucien’s. Her blood ran cold. She knew that sound. Low, guttural, dripping with malice. Marcus.  

Lucien’s jaw locked. He pulled her behind him, his body shielding hers without a word. His eyes had already shifted to that molten gold, pupils slitting like a predator’s.  

“He’s close,” Lucien murmured. “Too close.”  

“How did he find us?” Aria whispered back. The river should have washed their scent away.  

Lucien’s expression darkened. “Because I didn’t count on a traitor.”  

Before she could ask what he meant, the trees exploded.  

Three wolves burst from the undergrowth, fur matted with blood, eyes glowing crimson. Crimson Fang. Marcus’s personal hunters. They moved fast, circling them in a tightening ring.  

Aria stepped back, her ankle screaming in protest. The journal slipped from her grasp and fell to the forest floor with a dull thud.  

“Lucien—”  

“Stay down,” he ordered, voice low and deadly.  

The largest wolf lunged.  

Lucien didn’t dodge. He met it mid-air, his own shift ripping through him in a blur of bone and muscle. In a second, the black wolf stood where the man had been, snarling, claws digging into the earth.  

The forest became chaos.  

Fur flew. Teeth tore. The scent of blood and wet earth filled the air. Aria pressed herself against the tree, watching as Lucien tore through two of the attackers in under a minute. He moved like a storm—fast, brutal, precise.  

But the third wolf was smarter. It circled wide, eyes locked on her.  

Aria’s heart slammed against her ribs. She had no claws. No fangs. Just her father’s knife strapped to her thigh.  

The wolf lunged.  

Time slowed.  

Aria dropped, rolling to the side. Her hand found the knife. She came up swinging, the blade catching the wolf’s shoulder as it passed. It yelped, spinning back with rage in its eyes.  

“Run!” Lucien roared, but he was still locked with the second wolf, its jaws clamped around his foreleg.  

Aria didn’t run. She couldn’t leave him.  

She threw the knife.  

It struck true, burying itself in the wolf’s throat. It collapsed with a wet gurgle, twitching once before going still.  

Silence fell, heavy and sudden.  

Lucien stood over the last body, chest heaving, blood dripping from his muzzle. Slowly, he shifted back, naked and trembling from exertion. His leg was torn open, but he barely seemed to notice.  

He stalked to her, pulling her up by the shoulders, checking her for injuries with frantic hands.  

“You’re hurt.”  

“It’s just my ankle,” she said, breathless. “You’re bleeding.”  

“So are you.” His thumb brushed over a cut on her cheek. “Stupid, reckless girl.”  

Aria smirked despite the pain. “Stupid, reckless Alpha.”  

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—relief, pride, maybe even affection. Then it was gone, replaced by cold fury.  

“Marcus is close,” he said. “He sent his best. That means he’s watching.”  

Aria picked up the journal, wiping mud off the cover. “Then we end this before he gets another chance.”  

Lucien studied her face, then nodded. “We move to the old watchtower. It’s defensible. And it’s where Marcus will expect me to run.”  

“And you don’t like doing what people expect?”  

He almost smiled. “Never.”  

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They reached the watchtower an hour before dawn.  

It was a crumbling stone structure on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the Blackwood valley. Wind howled through the broken windows, carrying the scent of rain and blood.  

Lucien set Aria down on a pile of old blankets in the corner. He’d already torn a strip from his shirt to bind his leg.  

“Sit. Don’t move.”  

“I’m not a child, Lucien.”  

“No,” he agreed, kneeling in front of her to check her ankle. His fingers were gentle despite their size. “You’re worse. You fight.”  

Aria watched him work, her throat tight. “Why do you care if I live or die? You hated me two days ago.”  

Lucien didn’t answer right away. He finished wrapping her ankle, then sat back on his heels.  

“Because when I look at you, I don’t see my enemy’s daughter,” he said quietly. “I see the girl who threw a knife at a wolf twice her size to save me. I see the girl who didn’t break when her world burned.”  

He paused. “I see my mate.”  

Aria’s breath hitched. The bond between them pulsed, warm and insistent, like a second heartbeat.  

Before she could respond, a voice echoed from the doorway.  

“Well, well. The Alpha and his little pet.”  

Marcus stepped into the tower.  

He was older than Aria remembered, but his presence was still suffocating. Tall, broad, with a scar that cut through his left eyebrow. His eyes were cold, calculating.  

Behind him stood ten wolves. All armed. All watching.  

Lucien stood slowly, positioning himself between Marcus and Aria.  

“You came alone, Marcus. I’m impressed. Or stupid.”  

Marcus laughed. It was ugly.  

“I came to finish what we started twenty years ago. And to take what’s mine.”  

His eyes slid past Lucien to Aria.  

Aria stood, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She held the journal up.  

“You want this? Come and take it.”  

Marcus’s smile vanished.  

“That journal belongs to me. It proves your father was a traitor. It proves I was justified.”  

“It proves you’re a coward,” Aria shot back. “You threatened a child to get what you wanted.”  

Marcus’s face darkened. “Your father made a deal. He broke it. Fifty wolves died because of him.”  

“And how many died because of you?” Lucien stepped forward, every muscle coiled. “Answer me.”  

Marcus shrugged. “War has casualties.”  

Lucien moved.  

It was fast—faster than Aria could follow. One second Marcus was standing, the next Lucien had him pinned against the stone wall, a hand around his throat.  

“You touch her, and I’ll end you,” Lucien snarled.  

Marcus choked, but his eyes never left Aria’s.  

“Kill me, and you’ll never know who hired me. Who paid me to take down Blackwood.”  

Lucien’s grip tightened.  

Aria stepped forward. “Stop.”  

Lucien didn’t look at her, but his hand loosened slightly.  

“Let him talk,” she said. “If there’s someone else behind this, I want to know who.”  

Marcus grinned through bloody teeth.  

“Good girl. Smart, like your father.”  

He coughed, blood spattering Lucien’s hand. “The name is Elias. Elias Crowe. He runs the Iron Pact. He wanted Blackwood gone. He wanted your land.”  

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but Aria saw the shift in his eyes. Recognition. Rage.  

“Elias Crowe is dead,” Lucien said.  

“Not all of him,” Marcus rasped. “His son is coming for you next, Alpha. And this time, he won’t stop at fifty.”  

Lucien slammed Marcus’s head against the wall, knocking him out cold.  

He turned to Aria, breathing hard.  

“We leave. Now.”  

Aria nodded, but her mind was already racing. Elias Crowe’s son. Another enemy. Another war.  

She looked down at the journal in her hands.  

Her father’s secrets weren’t over yet.  

And neither was hers.  

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