WHO ARE YOU REALLY, SYLVIE

Chapter 9

The scout's words had barely faded before the strategy room fell into chaos.

"My name?" I whispered, my face turning pale.

No. That wasn't supposed to happen. In the original web novel I had spent three months writing before my heart gave out at my desk, the rogues attacked without revealing their identities. They were never supposed to chant my name. Someone had changed the story, or worse, the plot had changed because I was here, alive and acting outside the role I was meant to play.

"Explain that, Sylvie," Valen snapped, cutting through the growing panic.

He didn't yell, but his sudden change in posture was frightening. In seconds, he closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm with his leather-gloved hand, holding me firmly as his amber eyes flashed with anger.

"Why are enemy rogues shouting the disgraced Lady Vane's name as if she's their queen?"

"I don't know!" I gasped, pulling my arm free. My chest heaved as fear rushed through me. "Do you honestly think I planned a rogue raid just to expose myself in front of everyone? Look at me, Valen! I can barely stand for ten minutes without my vision blurring, let alone command a pack of bloodthirsty rebels!"

For a moment, we stared at each other. He studied my frightened face, searching for signs that I was lying. His chest rose and fell as he watched me struggle to catch my breath. He wasn't in love with me. There was no tenderness in his eyes, only the instincts of an Alpha who trusted no one but knew that my warning had saved his northern border from disaster.

"Saddle up!" Valen roared, turning to the remaining commanders. "Send every available elite warrior to the northern river bend. Kenneth, secure the perimeter. If a single rogue escapes, I want them captured."

He turned back to me, his jaw tight.

"You're coming with me, Sylvie. If this is a trap you planned, you'll have a front-row seat to your own execution."

"I'm coming anyway," I shot back, rubbing my bruised arm and ignoring the cold sweat on my forehead. "You need someone who knows where those tunnels lead."

Ten minutes later, the iron gates of the pack stronghold opened, and a dozen elite warriors in black rode into the freezing dusk. The wind swept through the snow-covered pine forest, cutting through my coat. I rode behind Valen, gritting my teeth against the rough ride and the exhaustion weighing on my body. My past life as an overworked web fiction writer had left me with almost no physical strength, but I refused to give up.

We reached the northern river bend just as the sky turned dark blue. The air smelled of pine, damp earth, and blood.

"Hold." Valen raised a gloved hand, bringing the warriors to a sudden stop.

Through the trees, the abandoned iron mine came into view. Torches flickered near the collapsed drainage entrances. Dozens of rogues with wild eyes and bloodthirsty expressions were pouring out of the dark tunnels.

Then I heard them shouting. Their voices echoed through the canyon.

"All hail Lady Vane! Blood for the true mistress!"

"They're framing me," I muttered, my stomach twisting. "Someone inside the pack is using my old reputation to hide their plans for a takeover."

"Stay behind me," Valen ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Before I could respond, he and his elite warriors charged into the clearing, their weapons flashing in the fading light.

The battle began at once. Swords clashed against claws and teeth as warriors shouted over the noise. Blood stained the snow red.

I scrambled off my horse and ducked behind a large boulder as a rogue rushed past me. My heart pounded against my ribs.

Think, Sylvie! I told myself, searching my memory of the chapter outlines I had written. In this scene, the rogues overwhelm the vanguard from the blind side unless—

My eyes landed on the supply crates strapped to a riderless pack horse nearby. Inside were flasks of strong alcohol and sulfur torches.

"Oh, you absolute idiots," I whispered, a desperate grin spreading across my face.

Ignoring the fighting around me, I grabbed a sulfur torch from a discarded bucket. I struck it against a rough stone until a flame caught. Then I grabbed two glass flasks of alcohol, smashed their necks against a rock, and threw them into the narrow passage between the mine's stone pillars, where the largest group of rogues was advancing.

Whoosh!

The moment the flame touched the spilled alcohol, a wall of fire erupted across the passage, sending thick smoke into the air. The rogues screamed, covering their eyes and coughing as the smoke blocked their path.

"Fall back into formation!" I shouted, waving my arms to guide Valen's warriors away from the fire.

Before the smoke could clear, a massive rogue with a jagged scar across his nose charged through it. He ignored the blinded fighters and ran straight toward me, raising a rusted broadsword above his head.

I froze, unable to move.

Clang!

A flash of dark leather and steel blocked the attack inches from my face. Valen appeared beside me and drove his sword through the rogue's chest. The attacker fell dead into the frozen mud.

But as Valen turned to check the area, another rogue lunged from the shadows, swinging his blade at him.

"Valen, look out!" I screamed, pushing against his shoulder with all my strength.

He twisted just in time, but the blade still cut through his sleeve and sliced deep into his forearm. Valen didn't flinch. He growled and swung his sword once, killing the attacker.

The fighting stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. The remaining rogues, blinded by the smoke and without a leader, fled into the tunnels.

Valen stood among the snow and dying flames, breathing heavily. Blood dripped from his injured forearm onto his fingertips. His amber eyes swept across the battlefield before settling on me.

"Are you injured?" he demanded, his voice rough.

"No," I breathed, my hands shaking as the adrenaline wore off. I began shivering. "I'm fine. But you're bleeding."

Twenty minutes later, the battlefield was secure. The surviving rogues had been bound in iron chains, and the elite warriors had returned to Valen's command tent.

I sat on a wooden stool, holding a needle and thick surgical thread. Valen sat opposite me on an overturned crate. His leather jacket lay nearby, leaving his broad chest bare. Blood and sweat stained his right arm. The lantern cast shadows across his face.

He remained silent as I cleaned the deep cut on his forearm with antiseptic, though he took a sharp breath when it stung.

"You should have stayed behind the boulder," Valen said quietly, keeping his eyes on me.

"And let you take a blade meant for me?" I replied, pulling the thread through his skin with steady hands. I'd learned how to handle situations like this from dealing with the consequences of my own overworked life, though I couldn't explain that to him. "You're welcome, by the way. My smoke trick just saved your entire vanguard from being attacked from behind."

"It was reckless," he replied, though his voice had softened. "Brilliant, but reckless."

I tied the knot with my teeth, biting my lip as I concentrated, then cut off the extra thread. I reached for a clean bandage, but before I could wrap it around his arm, Valen grabbed my wrist.

His grip wasn't painful, but I couldn't pull away. His amber eyes held mine, making it hard to breathe. The small tent suddenly felt too cramped.

"Who are you really, Sylvie?" he asked, his voice low and serious.