Chapter 4

Chapter Four — The Night the Pack Burned

Five years ago.

The moon was full, and the fire was already spreading.

Riley Hart stood at the edge of the Vale River, her claws slick with blood — though none of it was hers. Smoke curled into the night air, carrying the scent of ash, pine, and betrayal. Wolves were howling in the distance. Somewhere behind her, someone was screaming.

She turned and saw the council house ablaze.

The wooden structure — once a proud monument of unity between Crescent City’s three central packs — was nothing but a roaring inferno now. The fire crackled louder than the chaos around it, devouring everything she thought was sacred.

She could still hear his voice in her head.

"Go. Now. Don’t look back.”

She’d looked back anyway.

And now he was dead.

She didn’t kill him. She swore she didn’t. But he’d died protecting her. Covering for her. And when the other wolves arrived and saw her there — bloodied, burned, trembling — they didn’t wait for explanations.

They didn’t ask what happened.

They didn’t care.

A trial was never called.

The vote to exile her passed in under three minutes.

She remembered the sound of the verdict — final, sharp, like bones snapping under a heavy step.

“You are hereby cast out. Your name is stricken from the pack ledger. Your bond severed. May you run forever alone.”

And then… silence.

They didn’t even ask why she had blood on her hands. Or whose.

Because it was easier to believe Riley Hart — the Omega with a temper and no family left — had snapped.

Easier than admitting that someone from within the council had betrayed them all.

---

Present day.

Riley jerked awake, her heart pounding like a drum. Sweat clung to her neck. The room was dark, moonlight pooling on the wooden floor like spilled milk.

But something was… off.

The air felt charged. Too still.

She sat up slowly and squinted at the far wall.

That’s when she saw it.

A rune — faint, glowing, flickering like firelight — etched into the paint beside the closet.

She was on her feet in a flash.

The mark was the same one from her shoulder. The same one she’d seen on the victims. Only now… it was here, in her room.

Burned into her space.

She touched it. Her finger came away warm.

A warning.

A message.

Or worse — a claim.

---

Jaxon’s phone buzzed at 3:27 a.m.

He didn’t like surprises. And he really didn’t like being woken up unless someone was dead, bleeding, or setting fire to his territory.

It was Lena.

Lena \[3:27 a.m.]

I found the prophecy. You’re not going to like it.

Lena \[3:28 a.m.]

Also… something carved a rune into the library floor. While I was in it.

Jaxon was already out of bed and pulling on a shirt when his office line rang.

This time, it was Riley.

He blinked at the caller ID for a moment, surprised she was using the internal comms. Then again, maybe she didn’t want anything traceable. Smart.

He picked up. “Vale.”

Her voice was low, taut. “My room’s marked.”

“You mean by guards?”

“I mean the same damn rune that was on the last victim. It’s glowing. On my wall.”

That got his full attention.

“I’m coming to you,” he said.

“Bring coffee.”

“Bring a flamethrower,” he muttered back.

---

Minutes later, Jaxon walked into Riley’s room without knocking. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the rune, one arm resting on her knee, the other holding a dull-bladed dagger.

“I’d offer you the dagger,” she said as he entered, “but you strike me as more of a ‘rip throats with your bare hands’ kind of guy.”

He ignored the jab and stepped closer.

The rune pulsed softly, like it was alive. His wolf bristled.

“Are you sure you didn’t do this?”

Riley shot him a look. “If I’d done it, the room would be on fire. And you’d be missing at least one limb.”

He crouched beside her and reached out to the mark.

It pulsed stronger.

Then — without warning — a sharp whisper echoed through the room.

Riley…

She recoiled. “Did you hear that?”

Jaxon stood. “Yeah. That was magic. Old. Wild.”

“Like Elias.”

He looked down at her. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

Riley hesitated.

Then, softly, “He branded me. The night the council house burned.”

Jaxon’s brows rose.

She looked at him, defiant but hollow. “He killed someone I loved. I tried to stop him. He marked me before he fled. The pack found me at the scene. Never asked questions. Just pointed fingers.”

“And you’ve been running ever since.”

She nodded.

Jaxon exhaled. “Why protect the secret?”

“Because the person Elias was really after is still alive,” she whispered. “And if I talk — if I say the wrong name — he’ll find them.”

Jaxon sat down across from her.

For the first time, he didn’t look at her like a threat. He looked at her like a soldier looking at another wounded soldier — seeing the same scars, the same tired fight in the eyes.

“Then we find Elias before he finds them,” he said.

Riley blinked. “You believe me?”

“No,” he said. “But I believe in fixing broken things.”

She snorted. “Careful, Alpha. Sounds dangerously close to compassion.”

He gave her a half-smile. “Don’t tell anyone. It’d ruin my reputation.”

They sat in silence.

The rune slowly faded from the wall.

But the danger?

It was just getting started.