Chapter 4

The moment Elder Thorn finished speaking, Ilana suddenly curled inward, letting out a pained whine.

"Silas, if you're going to protect her like this, then I'll leave. Back to the Central Territories, and never return!"

Silas's pupils contracted to slits. He ignored the Elder still kneeling on the stone floor and hauled Ilana against his chest.

"Ilana, don't—"

He turned. The warmth in those golden eyes extinguished instantly, leaving something that scraped across my bones like blades.

"Amara," his voice dropped, each word wrapped in Alpha command that vibrated through my ribs until my breath hitched. "If there's a next time, you're banished from Northern territory. Even if Amara Thane comes crawling to lick my claws, it won't matter."

The burn on my arm was blistering now. Cold sweat matted the fur along my spine. Yet my voice came out steady—frozen lake, dead water.

"You needn't worry. There won't be a next time."

Silas stilled. He was used to my silence, my compliance, that stubborn ember in my eyes that never quite died. This stagnant pool disarmed him. Discomforted him.

He said nothing more. He lifted Ilana in his arms.

"Come. The healers."

His gaze swept over my scalded flesh, my swollen cheek.

"You follow."

Fearing infection, I followed silently. I still needed this arm to sign, to complete the final rites.

In the sled's rear seat, my comms stone pulsed. A private thread cut through—Silas's claw-mark, readable only to me.

【I was too harsh. But I've lost she once. I cannot lose her again.】

【If you're angry, I'll make amends.】

I stared at the words. Then at him in the front seat—tenderly lapping herbs onto Ilana's unmarked hand, murmuring comfort. That devoted gentleness, and the blade he'd turned on me moments before. Two different wolves.

Ridiculous.

My claw tapped the stone. The thread severed, his mark fading to gray.

I stared at the severed thread where Silas's mark had faded, my chest hollow. Then I shut the comms stone down entirely. It didn't matter who came next. Nothing mattered anymore.

The sled stopped at the healing house. I pushed open the door. A runaway elk-sled shot from the side—too fast to dodge.

Silas turned instinctively, shielding Ilana with his body, his back to the danger.

The impact threw me sideways. My hip slammed the boundary marker, stone shards slicing my flank. When I looked up, he was already rushing inside, cradling Ilana's barely-scraped hand, his voice tight with panic.

"Miss, your pelt's bleeding—"

A strange hunter pressed clean leather into my hand. I took it, pressed it to my wound, thanked him. Then I walked directly to the mountain relay.

"The moon-platform," I told the elk-herder, pressing a gold coin into his palm. "Fast as you can."

The elk screamed. The sled cut through snow, racing toward a direction without Silas.

……

Meanwhile, Silas settled Ilana and finally remembered I'd been injured.

He asked a healer for burn salve. "The one who came with me—Amara. Which chamber?"

The healer checked the hide records. Shook his head. "Apologies, my lord. No Amara registered."

Silas went still. His grip on the salve tightened, knuckles whitening.

His comms stone erupted. Amara Thane's mark, blood-red.

The moment he answered, his brother's roar tore through: "Silas! This is how you protect my sister? Sent her bleeding from your territory?"

Silas's jaw tightened. He assumed I'd gone crying to my brother. His voice cooled, displeased. "She's with you? Put her on."

"Like hell!"

His brother glanced at me, alone at the platform binding my own wounds. His voice carried barely suppressed fury.

"If you want to atone—two nights, when the moon is full. She mates with another under the Blood Oak. You will attend, Silas."