LOGINThe ride to Blackwood Ridge took longer than Marcus expected.Snow had drifted high across the northern paths, forcing his team to dismount and lead their horses through drifts that reached their waists. By the time the watchpost emerged from the grey tree line, Marcus had lost feeling in his fingers and patience in equal measure."Spread out," he told the three warriors behind him. "Circle the structure before we enter. I want fresh tracks, disturbed snow, anything that suggests recent activity."They moved without question. Marcus waited until they returned, shaking their heads."Nothing," Joren reported. "Snow's been falling too long. Any tracks would be buried."Marcus nodded and pushed through the watchpost door.Inside, the cold was different. Still and dry, like a tomb. The hearth sat dark and cold, the ashes they'd found days ago now scattered by wind through gaps in the walls. Dust coated every surface, undisturbed since their last search.Marcus pulled the architectural plan
Reed's hand trembled beneath hers, his breathing still ragged."The door," Natasha said softly. "Can you describe it?"He stared at the wall, his eyes unfocused. "Wood. Dark wood, worn by weather. Iron hinges, three of them. The handle was..." He frowned. "There was a handle. I can see it, but I can't reach the memory.""Was it inside the watchpost? Or outside?""I don't know." His voice cracked. "It's just there. In my head. But when I try to focus on it, something stops me. Like a wall I can't see past."Natasha squeezed his hand gently. "You're doing well. Rest now."She rose and left him staring into nothing, his mug growing cold between his palms. *** Damien and Marcus were waiting in the council chamber when Natasha returned. The fire had been banked low, casting long shadows across the map."Reed recognizes Blackwood Ridge," she said, settling into the chair beside Damien. "He can't explain how. But he described a door, dark wood, iron hinges, three of them. He sees it clearl
The knife sat on the table between them, its carved handle catching the firelight.Natasha studied the marking, the howling wolf surrounded by crescent moons. The distinctive pattern was recognizable among Kieran's personal belongings."It doesn't make sense," she said. "Blackwood Ridge is nearly fifteen miles from the northeastern patrol route. Even if Kieran fled in disorientation, why would he travel that far north? And in what direction?"Damien stood at the window, his arms crossed as he stared into the darkness. "He wouldn't. Not unless something led him there. Or someone.""You think he was taken?""I think we don't have enough information to think anything." He turned to face her. "But I don't believe in coincidences. Not with everything else that's happened."Natasha reached for the knife, turning it over in her hands. The metal was cold, the blade still sharp. Whatever had happened to Kieran, the knife offered no answers. It had simply been left behind.Like a message."The
Morning light crept through the heavy curtains, pale and wintry, casting long shadows across the chamber. Natasha woke slowly, her body heavy with the particular exhaustion that came from a fortnight of broken sleep. Beside her, Damien lay on his back, one arm flung across his eyes, his breathing deep and even.She turned her head toward the cradle. Cassian was awake, she could tell by the small sounds of movement, the soft rustle of blankets, the tiny squeak that preceded either contentment or demand. But he wasn't crying. Not yet.The events of the previous night lingered in her mind. That strange stillness, the way Cassian's body had tensed and his unfocused eyes had seemed to fix on something unseen. She had replayed it dozens of times in the dark hours before sleep finally claimed her.She slipped from the bed carefully, moving to the cradle. Cassian lay on his back, his small fists curled near his face, his dark hair sticking up in tufts. His eyes, still that newborn blue, not y
The torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of Natasha's own heartbeat. She stood motionless, her mind turning over Reed's impossible account."We should not jump to conclusions," she said finally, her voice steady despite the chill that had settled in her bones. "His memories are fragmented. He admitted himself that time has no meaning in what he remembers."Damien nodded slowly, though his jaw remained tight."I know. Trauma can distort perception. Exhaustion can create phantom sounds."He paused, dragging a hand through his dark hair."But the timing troubles me. He was certain the cry came after the first breach, before the main attack.""Certainty does not mean accuracy."Natasha moved toward the door, needing to check on Cassian even though she had left him with a trusted attendant barely an hour ago."Reed is confused. His sense of time may be completely unreliable."Damien fell into step beside her, his hand fi
Marcus led the returned warrior through the stone corridors of Shadow Fang's eastern wing, away from the family quarters and toward the secure chambers reserved for questioning. The warrior, Reed, walked with steady steps but unfocused eyes, his gaze drifting repeatedly toward the windows that faced north.Two guards fell in behind them, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough to avoid crowding. The tension in the corridor was palpable, a living thing that pressed against the walls.Damien walked beside Marcus, his posture rigid with controlled alertness. Natasha had remained with Cassian for the initial examination. There would be time for questioning later, once they knew more about what they were dealing with.The secure chamber was a small stone room with a single table, several chairs, and iron sconces that cast flickering light across the rough-hewn walls. A brazier burned in one corner, pushing back the winter chill. Marcus positioned Reed in a chair facing the do
"You're twenty-two and still unmated."The words followed Natasha across the training grounds like an unwanted shadow.She ignored them.With a sharp twist, she caught her brother's wrist and used his momentum against him. Kael hit the dirt hard enough to shake the ground beneath them.A chorus of w
Natasha stood frozen for a long moment after Damien’s silhouette disappeared through the velvet curtain. The cold night air clung to her skin, but the heat radiating from her chest—from the bond she refused to name—made her feel feverish. Her wolf, a restless presence she’d always kept tightly leas
Damien’s wolf had been clawing at his ribs for hours, a relentless, snarling pressure that made every polite smile a lie. The moment he’d walked into the ballroom and caught Natasha’s scent—wildflowers and steel—the beast inside him had lunged against its chains. Mate. The word was a drumbeat in hi
The ballroom no longer felt like a celebration.It felt like observation.Natasha moved through it with controlled precision, each step measured, each expression carefully restrained. The emerald gown made her feel exposed in ways armor never had, not because it was revealing, but because it was des







