C5

Elira Ashwyn pushes through the grand iron gates of the Ashwyn pack lodge, her small, plush four-foot-five frame heavy with exhaustion.

Now that she has bound her wolf to Kaedrin Thornvale in the sacred hall, she needs the fifty thousand silver tokens to pay the medicine wolves treating Elder Maelis for shadow-rot.

Lady Morwen Ashwyn sits on a high furs-covered throne inside the inner hall, sipping warm moon-mead from an silver goblet. She looks up at Elira with a cold, mocking smile.

"How is life in the border shacks with your rogue mate?" Morwen asks, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Did you come back to crawl on your knees to your pack?"

"I am here for the silver tokens," Elira says, her dark brown eyes burning with rage. "You swore under pack law that the moment I signed the mating contract in place of Cerys, you would hand over the chest for Elder Maelis's healing crystals."

Morwen sets her goblet down on the stone table, her expression turning into a ruthless sneer.

"Don't speak to me about oral agreements, stray," Morwen growls, her wolf pressuring the room. "Garrick invested our pack's extra silver into a border trade deal that failed yesterday. Our territory cash reserves are dry. We don't have fifty thousand silver tokens to waste on a dying, useless old nurse."

Elira's blood turns to liquid fire, her hands clenching into tight fists until her short claws cut into her dark palms.

Morwen has mountains of rare jewels and silver chains hanging off her velvet robes. She isn't out of money—she is simply letting Elder Maelis rot out of spite.

Garrick Ashwyn steps into the hall, his face pale as he looks at Elira's trembling frame. "Morwen, calm down... we still have a few chests of raw silver in the vault for the medicine—"

"Shut your mouth, Garrick!" Morwen snaps, slamming her hand on the armrest. "Cerys needs that silver for her journey to the Silverfang Empire to buy high-grade breeding herbs for Torric's pup! Am I supposed to starve our own blood daughter for an old omega maid?"

Garrick cowers instantly, lowering his eyes in silence.

Cerys Ashwyn struts down the stone steps, wrapped in silk furs, her gold bracelets clinking together as she laughs loudly.

"Why is this heavy little stray still barking in our hall?" Cerys mocks, stepping right into Elira's space. "Is your rogue husband so poor he couldn't even feed you this morning? You look desperate."

"I took your place with the Frostclaw male so you wouldn't be dragged to the border," Elira growls, her voice dropping into a lethal, low pitch. "Show some respect before I tear that fake smile off your face."

Cerys's eyes flash yellow with sudden fury. She grabs a heavy iron goblet of boiling mead from a side table and throws it straight at Elira's face.

Elira side-steps the attack instantly, the scalding liquid splashing harmlessly against the stone wall.

"Get out of my sight!" Cerys screams, pointing a clawed finger at the door. "You are an outcast now! You don't belong to the Ashwyn clan!"

"I wouldn't step foot in this filthy den if you didn't owe me my nurse's life," Elira spits back.

Morwen stands up, her high-ranking Luna pressure washing over the hall. "How dare you speak to my daughter like that! Get out of my territory before I have the guards throw you into the shadow-caves!"

Elira's heart breaks with cold, absolute disappointment. Arguing with these vultures is useless. She turns on her heel, her heavy leather boots stomping toward the heavy oak doors.

The moment she pulls the heavy doors open, a massive frame blocks the light.

Kaedrin Thornvale stands on the threshold, wrapped in a thick winter cloak, his piercing grey eyes sweeping over Elira's tear-stained, angry face.

Behind him, Beta Fenros Greymane stands carrying four massive iron chests bound in heavy runic steel.

"Why are you here?" Elira whispers, her breath catching as his dark cedar scent instantly wraps around her senses.

"I came to collect my mate's belongings," Kaedrin says flatly, his deep voice carrying over the entire quiet hall. He gently takes Elira's small hand in his massive palm, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "And to deliver the bride-price from the Frostclaw Bloodline."

Fenros steps forward, hauling the heavy iron chests onto the central stone table with a loud crash that echoes through the rafters. He snaps open the runic locks one by one.

The entire hall goes dead silent.

Dazzling moonlight gems, pure platinum ingots, ancient spirit-bead necklaces, and rare healing crystals fill the chests to the brim, shining under the torchlight.

Elira stares at the treasures in total shock. "Kaedrin... where did you get these? Are these stolen from the border raiders?"

She leans up on her tiptoes, whispering frantically into his ear. "If they find out you brought plunder here, they will execute you!"

A faint, amused smirk touches Kaedrin's sharp lips. He leans down, his lips brushing against her soft ear. "Don't worry, little female. I never give fake tribute."

Morwen and Cerys freeze, their eyes practically popping out of their heads as they stare at the royal treasures gleaming on the table. A single one of those spirit-beads could buy the entire Ashwyn pack house five times over.

Morwen immediately changes her tone, her face splitting into a fake, sweet smile as she steps down from her throne. "Kaedrin! My dear son-in-law! You didn't have to bring such grand gifts to our pack! We are all family now—"

Cerys's hands tremble with pure greed as she reaches out to touch a shimmering platinum bracelet set with dragon-fire rubies. "This is a limited edition artifact from the high courts of the Silverfang Empire... give it to me!"

Before Cerys's claws can touch the velvet lining, Kaedrin's massive hand slams the heavy iron lid shut with a thunderous bang.

Cerys shrieks, snatching her fingers back just in time.

Kaedrin looks down at the two greedy females with pure, icy disgust in his grey eyes.

"These were meant to be the official bride-tribute for the family that raised my female," Kaedrin growls, his voice rumbling like thunder through the stone hall. "But as I walked up the steps, I heard you declare that she is no longer your daughter."

He hooks his large arm around Elira's waist, pulling her plush frame flush against his rock-hard hip. His possessive scent instantly blankets her, making her wet core throb with a sudden, intense pulse of heat.

"Since she has no family here," Kaedrin sneers, signaling Fenros to lock the chests back up, "the Frostclaw Bloodline owes you nothing. You can keep your poverty and your pride."

"Wait!" Cerys screams, clutching Morwen's sleeve in desperation. "Mother! Stop him! He's taking the royal crystals!"

Morwen's face turns pale as ashes as she realizes the massive fortune that just slipped through her fingers.

Kaedrin ignores their shrieks, turning his back on the Ashwyn clan and guiding Elira out into the snow.

As they step into the courtyard, Fenros leans toward Kaedrin and whispers, "Lord Kaedrin, the medicine wolves just called from the central den. Lady Morwen canceled Elder Maelis's treatment an hour ago. The old nurse has been dumped outside the gates."

Elira stops dead in her tracks, her breath catching as sheer horror freezes the blood in her veins.