LOGINLana’s P.O.V
My heart pounded fast against my chest as I waited for the eventual snap of the rogue’s jaws around my neck.
This was it. This was where I would finally take my last breath. Before I even realized it, tears had begun to fall down my cheeks.
I didn’t want this to be it. I still had so much I wanted to fight for. I was still yet to get my revenge.
Just when I felt the rogue’s jaws closing in, a loud howl pierced through the forest. Everybody froze.
I dared to open my eyes, wondering who could have made that sound. The rogue that had been about to kill me turned back to see where the sound had come from.
A smooth, commanding growl echoed from the shadows of trees a small distance away from us. All of a sudden, a large dark wolf walked in. His fur was as dark as midnight and his eyes were fixed on us.
The rogues visibly stiffened as they glared at this new wolf. Some of them even whined, slowly backing away.
Only their leader still had that stubborn glare in his eyes. He would not give up so easily.
Before all of us, he slowly transformed into a tall, powerfully built man. He had raven-black hair and approached us with an aura of authority.
His movements were precise and controlled. His presence seemed to press down on the entire forest, making the rogues shrink and submit without a word.
The only one who didn’t submit was the leader. He was still glaring heavily at the mysterious man.
“Still have the gall to act all defiant?” The man cocked his head to the side.
The rogue leader growled in reply. I didn’t need a translator to know what he said. I was his to kill. The mysterious man should fuck off.
“Oh really?” The man laughed, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I think you’re forgetting whose border’s you’re lurking in.”
The rogue leader froze, his whole body slightly trembling. The man’s lips curled into a smile.
“Red Moon.”
The name rang a bell immediately. I knew who the man was immediately.
Warren Black.
The Alpha and Supreme Commander of Red Moon Pack. He was known across most packs for his ruthlessness and his brutality in destroying his rivals.
When packs prayed to the moon goddess for prosperity, they also prayed to her to never cross Warren or the rest of Red Moon.
I couldn’t believe it. He was standing right in front of me. His gaze flickered to me for a brief moment before he turned back to the rogue.
“You have three seconds. After that, I’ll decide whether to add your bones to my war table or if I should just toss them to the jackals.” Warren’s eyes glistened with a certain malevolence that sent a shiver down my spine.
My body was suddenly cold and I wanted nothing more than to run back home. The rogue leader got the message as he disappeared in less than a second.
The rest of the rogues followed suit, all of them scared of crossing the dangerous Alpha. That left the two of us.
I was still lying on the floor, unarmed, unable to defend myself. When he took one step closer, I scurried to my feet, trying to get as much distance as I could between us.
“Stay back.” I yelled, even though I knew how powerless I was against him.
He cocked his head to the side, an amused smile on his face. “You’re far from home, little wolf,”
I swallowed down, a plan forming in my head. I had to play my cards carefully. This could very well be my chance to take down Callen.
“I came to find you,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“Did you now?” His eyes glistened with amusement as he took another step closer. I forced myself to stand still. I had to show him that I wasn’t afraid.
“And what does a pack omega from Dark Silver want with me?” He studied me, clearly waiting for some explanation.
Of course he already knew I was an omega. He must have found out by my scent alone. I cursed internally. Would that make him refuse to help me? If he decided I was nothing but a weak omega, would he decide to kill me?
“I need your help,” I said plainly. “I want revenge against Dark Silver Pack.”
There was a smirk tugging at his lips as he stared at me. “Revenge?”
“Against your own pack?” His voice was laced with intrigue as he stared at me.
“Against Callen Everdeen,” I corrected.
The sound of his name sent a sharp ache through my chest but I swallowed the pain down.
“He rejected me. Humiliated me in front of everyone. And I want to make him regret it.”
Warren’s smirk faded, his eyes narrowing as he continued to study me in silence. I felt my heart racing but I stood my ground, refusing to look away.
“Tell me,” His gaze was unwavering. “Why come to me?”
“Because you’re his rival,” I replied, forcing all my anger and determination into my words. “You know how to hurt him.”
Before I could react, Warren closed the distance between us and wrapped his hand around my throat.
I let out a gasp, clawing at his arm as I tried to breathe all to no avail. He had a look of anger as he glared at me. He was going to kill me.
The more I tried to fight out of his grip, the more he tightened his hand around my throat. Everything hurt so bad and I could see black dots starting to dot my vision.
Then he let go of me. I dropped to the floor, trying to take in all the sweet air I’d missed. I looked up to see him glowering down at me, no hint of remorse in his eyes.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t snap your throat in half.”
I struggled up to my feet, my determination unmoved. “Because I can help you take down Callen and the rest of Dark Silver once and for all.”
Lana’s POVThe wind carried the first warning before we even saw the sky shift. A low, rolling pressure swept through the path ahead, bending the treetops and scattering loose soil across the trail. Kael stopped beside me, his hand tightening instinctively around the strap of his pack. Mara glanced over her shoulder, expression sharpening with the sort of alertness that never meant anything good.“We’re close,” Bastion murmured. “Too close. The air shouldn’t feel like this unless something ahead has been disturbed recently.”“Disturbed how?” Dren asked, hugging his coat tighter around himself.“Either by us…” Warren said, “or by someone who got here before we did.”My pulse kicked. “You mean someone else is after the vault?”Warren didn’t answe
Lana’s POVThe Assembly met in a building that smelled of old wood and the careful confidence of men who had decided the fate of towns for generations. We had built our case with witnesses, with ledgers, with quiet demonstrations that taught councils to be suspicious of gifts. Now the work felt grimly formal: we would bring evidence before a body packed with men who guarded reputation like an old Sunday shirt.Warren had spent weeks preparing the legal framing. He’d taught witnesses to hold their memory steady and to avoid the rhetorical jaws that Assemblymen used to twist facts. Mara had trained them like performers, coaching voice and cadence so that the testimony would land in the stony ears of magistrates. Bastion and Maris had worked with scholars to authenticate artifacts and provide neutral explanations of their effects. The hermitage had become a laboratory for truth.We arrived early, sun slanting through the Assembly’s high windows. The building’s wood seemed softer up close
Lana’s POVWe had thought Marek’s exposure would weaken the network in neat, predictable ways. Instead, it fractured into unpredictable pieces that tested our patience and forced us to think like gardeners not generals. The ledger we’d taken from his house had been a key, yes, but keys open doors and reveal rooms you didn’t know existed. It pulled back curtains that let other things breathe.One evening, while sorting testimony and cross-referencing courier runs, Sera found a notation in the ledger we had overlooked: a list of names marked with small initials that corresponded to guilds — not buyers but facilitators. One of the names popped in my mind — “Rhett of the Glassworks.” At first the name sounded like a piece of the artisan world, but Sera had a way of squinting at details and seeing the edges of mischief.“Rhett makes glassware,&r
Lana’s POVSpring came stubbornly, the country reluctant to change all at once. It arrived the way it always did—slow green, mud, and the first splatter of lambing in the barns. The hermitage smelled like peat fires and paper. The map we'd been stitching together grew layered with not just places but names, the faces of people who gave testimony and those who risked small betrayals of their own comfort to do what was right.Our campaign had become less about a single, dramatic takedown and more about making the truth cumbersome for those who relied on whisper networks. We put Elders on record, coaxed a courier to keep a receipt, and trained witnesses to recount events with calm precision. Each small success loosened the manipulators’ grasp; each public inquiry tightened the light.One morning, as panes of glass trembled under a dull wind, an envelope arrived for us at the hermitage. Inside was a thin, nervy note: *We’re watching the Assembly. Aldis has moved to the coast. He’s meeting
Lana’s POVA scrap of Renn’s tidy handwriting had led us north: a note jotted in a margin about a bell, about moving goods to a left-hand cellar when the bell rang oddly at market. That kind of small instruction is the backbone of custodial work — quietly pragmatic, almost trivial, and lethal in intent if used wrongly. The trail took us through towns that smelled of peat and iron and into a chapel that kept its secrets low.Rowen had mapped the route with a cartographer’s patience and the instincts of someone who had slept under tradesmen’s roofs. The chapel was squat and honest, its stone frosted by years. An off-key bell sat crooked in its belfry; the tone when rung carried like a cough. The keeper, Alric, was an old man who kept cups clean and his regrets cleaner.“He was careful,” Alric said, as we sat in the chapel’s thin warmth. “Renn would not make a thing to c
Lana’s POVSuccess never felt as clean as I imagined. The demonstrations and the hearings had coaxed the market to flinch, but the more we pulled at threads, the more we discovered the tangles beneath them — old wounds stitched over with new lies. It became painfully clear that the manipulator’s work had not relied solely on greed; it had been built on people’s fears and on the kinds of compromises that felt rational in a hard world.We lingered near the hermitage for longer than necessary, partly to rest, partly to gather witness testimony and partly because the hermitage had become something like a home. People who had once been strangers were now allies with faces I could name from memory; Rowen moved like a shadow inside the archives, Vorrin’s watchers were a tacit guard in the lanes, and Sera scanned remnants for the forger’s mistakes with an artist’s precision. There was comfort in familiar fac







