Chapter 12

ZANE

I’m seated behind my desk in my home office, halfway through deciphering an old entry in my family journal.

The first part is clear. It is underlined in thick, angry ink, like someone needed the words to hold the page together.

"The Golden Shield Legacy"

A bloodline with a distinct purpose: to contain chaos, no matter the cost.

The cost…

My jaw tightens involuntarily. I do not need to finish the line to know what it explains. I have witnessed the cost in my own father’s eyes. I heard it in the screams he tried to swallow when he lost the battle with his own mind.

Madness.

That is to be my fate.

He lost every shred of humanity… and at the end, there was only that elated look in his eyes as he tore loyal warriors apart. As he tore out the throat of his own mate. He smiled at the terror on my mother’s face before she met her end.

To this day, I wonder if he ever realised what he had done, or if he was already too far gone?

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. That familiar ache in my chest rises, but I suppress it and bring my focus back to the task at hand.

The journal’s pages are cracked and yellowed, brittle at the corners. Some sections are smudged, others scratched out entirely. As if someone started writing and then changed his mind, or lost control halfway through.

I slowly run a thumb over the margin, trying to piece it together once again. The entire journal consists of instructions on how to find an ancient, powerful relic, but there are no specific coordinates. Only the descriptions of the area, and notes on how important it is for the golden shield to keep the chaos contained.

I close the book and push away from the desk, rising slowly to stretch my legs. My body aches from the pressure. From the containment. Like something inside me is too big for my skin.

My body is shielding the world from a goddess's chaos. It’s no wonder it wants to break.

This is not the first time I have felt it. This crackling, this wrongness humming in the marrow of my ribs. It started the night my father was killed. When I took his place as Alpha. As the shield.

The night of his death was when I first started dreaming about things I should not remember. I saw visions of a battlefield I do not know. A woman cloaked in stars, laughing as the world burns.

Thankfully, the journal was found among his belongings shortly thereafter.

Pacing up and down the length of my office, I try to release some of the pent-up energy, but as always, it does not work. I inhale slowly, attempting to calm my mind, and exhale.

I can handle this.

If I can understand the past, I can protect the future. Protect myself. I only need to remain in control until then.

I only need to find the relic. Then I can syphon the magic building inside me, and make the chaos serve me. Bend it to my will and weaponise it, rather than have it break me as it did those before me.

And so I search. As my father did, and his father.

But I will be the one to find it.

This relic my ancestor used during the last divine war. Gifted to him by Diana, the wolf goddess herself. A celestial weapon. Unknown to most. Forgotten by some.

But not by me.

I have leads. I have the bloodline. I have the visions.

And I have the journal.

What I do not have?

Time.

I can already feel the pressure in my body intensifying. My blood always feels like it is boiling. The constant buzzing in my ears and the daze in my mind are enough to drive any person mad.

Three moons ago, the visions started changing. They became more vivid. The voices, the screams from the battle long ago, echo in my head on a constant loop. The dreams are all pushing me to the brink of my sanity.

I stop behind my desk and stare at the journal again. At the words scratched in blood-red ink.

Contain chaos. No matter the cost.

My skin hums, light threatening to break through. The golden glow flickers beneath my veins like a warning flare.

I am lost in my own thoughts when my Beta’s voice cuts through the mental link, sharp and amused.

‘She’s taken down Damian.’

Something in me stills. I immediately know who he means, but Damian? That’s not possible.

‘How?’

‘Well, she’s on the verge of shifting. But she's not using her teeth, she's just… strong.’

‘She hasn't lost control?’

‘She hasn't killed anyone if that's what you're asking. But she injured Damian and another female cadet.’

I start pacing again.

She is cheating. She has to be cheating.

There’s no way that little, spoiled, too-sexy-for-her-own-good she-wolf is taking down warriors trained since birth.

I storm out of my office, slamming the heavy wooden doors shut behind me. My steps echo loudly against the marble floors through the hallways of the house. Omegas working in my home and the packmembers outside all lower their heads as I pass them, but I don't even have time to return a nod as I race across the grounds.

Reaching the communal training hall in what must be record time, I do not enter the sparring area. Instead, I step into the hallway, and instantly my nose is assaulted by different scents. As always, one stands out. Her all-consuming chocolate scent that somehow calms my mind and hardens my cock. My body’s traitorous response to her, every single time.

Adjusting myself, I walk into the observation room. It is empty, and I keep the lights off, pulling back my Alpha aura as much as possible.

Here, I have the perfect view of the training hall through the tinted glass wall separating the rooms.

The hall holds half my male warriors and every female cadet. According to the schedule I’ve memorised, today is the day they cross paths for the first time.

And the warriors have all been informed of a certain little she-wolf who supposedly poses a threat. It is no wonder so many of them decided to train at this time. Morbid curiosity, I suppose.

My eyes find her instantly, even among the many male warriors in the hall, and my entire body goes still at the sight of her.

She’s in a midnight-blue crop top that clings to her chest, just enough skin showing to make my thoughts utterly inappropriate. Her leggings are sculpted to her thighs like a second skin. Every flex of her legs, every step she takes—I can see everything.

And I immediately know that’s how she’s doing it.

That is how she’s winning.

There is no way that she can really best warriors. The men are all just too distracted by her body to focus on the match.

Some kind of unfamiliar, guttural rage stirs in my chest, but I tamp it down.

No.

No, certainly not.

I’m only here to watch. To observe. To prove she is cheating. And the fact that her claws and canines are indeed ready just shows that she wants to injure. She's not losing control; she wants to go for the kill. This is her damn choice.

Both her hands are covered in blood. So what on earth did she do to warrior Damian and that cadet? How much did she hurt them? How much does she intend to hurt warrior Noah?

Then my eyes land on her canines, and they are large. Far bigger than a she-wolf should be… those teeth are nearly the same size as mine.

I put my hand on the closed door, ready to rip it open and take her out if she even looks like she's about to use those teeth or claws.

But then I see Noah go down.

Bloody hard.

Hits. Pops. She twists. She flips.

She didn't use her claws this round, but she injured him nonetheless. It is clear she enjoyed it, even as she extends a hand, which he does not take. Clever man.

Who knows what her full intentions are?

Warrior Elijah steps up, and Noah limps off the mat with his fellow warrior helping him.

Then Xander approaches, and my spine stiffens slightly.

I’m not sure whether I should be overjoyed that someone will finally put her in her place… or storm in and put a stop to this.

He can hurt her. There is no doubt in my mind he is more than capable of doing so. Xander is my blood, my cousin, and my most gifted warrior. He doesn’t hold back.

And for some ungodly reason, I do not want her hurt.

I keep my eye on them through the glass as they start to circle. And it all happens incredibly fast. Lyra is so astonishingly fast.

They kick, jab, and test one another.

So far, so good.

Lyra starts shifting back to her human form and watching her… gods. She is agile, light on her feet, and she clearly has endurance. After multiple rounds of sparring, she barely seems winded. An extremely dangerous combination.

Soon… she is straddling him on the mat. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands land on her thighs.

The worst thing… She does not stop him.

I turn back to the tinted window and grip the windowsill hard enough to hear the wood creak beneath my fingers.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. For the irony certainly isn't lost on me. I came to prove she was cheating. That she does not belong among the warriors.

But now I am the one cheating, watching like a predator behind glass. Silently falling apart at the sight of her.

What is happening to me?

Why do I want to rip the entire room apart?

Why do I want to throw her over my shoulder, lock her in my room, and keep every other male on this land away from her?

I grind my teeth, my chest heaving in uneven breaths as I try to calm myself.

Even if I no longer feel that pressure in my chest or the buzzing in my head. I am still losing it.

It's the madness, it has to be. This has nothing to do with her. She’s just a guest. A liability.

And I was born to contain chaos.

The realisation settles with terrifying clarity. She is not merely disruptive—she is destabilising. To my warriors. To my pack. To me.

The journal’s words echo unbidden in my mind.

Contain chaos. No matter the cost.

I leave the observation room without another glance back. My decision is made.

By nightfall, she will no longer be a guest.

She will be under my roof.