The night was thick with silence when Nicole finally stopped walking. She found herself at the edge of the old training grounds, the grass damp beneath her boots, the faint scent of iron and smoke still clinging to the soil from battles long past. Here, under the pale cast of moonlight, she could breathe without Silas’s eyes boring into her.Her heart was still beating too fast, betraying the storm she carried inside. Silas’s words echoed in her head, half-truths wrapped in thorns. He knew more. He always did. But for reasons she couldn’t untangle, he had chosen to slice her with pieces instead of handing her the whole blade.Nicole tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the night wind cool the heat in her cheeks. Around her, the pack’s territory was quiet — but not empty. She could feel it in her bones: the others were awake. Watching. Waiting.They’d seen her return, seen her confront Brian, seen her clash with Silas. Every step she took now wasn’t just hers—it was being
The forest swallowed them in darkness, branches clawing at their skin as they ran. Silas shifted back into his human form, blood streaking down his arms, his chest rising and falling with ragged fury. Brian held Nicole close, refusing to slow down until the distant chaos of the camp was nothing but echoes on the wind.Only then, in a hollow carved by roots and stone, did he finally let her go.Nicole staggered back, her wrists raw and bleeding from the chains, her breath still trembling. The night pressed in heavy, suffocating. She searched his face, waiting—needing—for him to say something. Anything.But Brian just stood there, bloodied hands flexing, jaw clenched so tight his teeth might break.“Brian.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t let it falter. “What was that?”Silas glanced between them, his sharp eyes narrowing, but he said nothing. The silence grew heavier.Nicole’s fists curled. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me it was nothing. He knew you. He called you—” Her breat
The knife’s edge kissed Nicole’s skin, cold and sharp enough to still her every breath.“Don’t move,” the stranger rasped against her ear. His grip was iron, pinning her against the ravine wall as the firefight above rumbled on like a storm refusing to pass.Brian’s gun was already raised, his voice a growl pulled from deep in his chest. “Let her go. Now.”Silas crouched half in shadow, his body taut like a predator ready to strike. His eyes weren’t on the stranger—they were on Nicole, like he was calculating whether she’d trust him enough to move when he did.The man holding her chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. “Funny. Both of you want her, but neither of you’s strong enough to keep her.” He pressed the blade harder, drawing the faintest line of blood. Nicole didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to.“Who sent you?” she forced out, steady despite the sting.The man’s smile curved against her temple. “Who do you think? Ghosts don’t stay buried, sweetheart.”Brian’s jaw clenched. Nicole
The moon hung low over the compound, its silver light spilling across the courtyard like a silent witness. Nicole stood in her quarters with the curtains half-drawn, letting the cool air seep in. Sleep felt like a luxury she hadn’t been allowed in years, and tonight was no different.The memory still burned—Brian’s hands on her waist, his voice warm and certain, a younger version of her believing in forever. It should have been a comfort. Instead, it was a blade twisting in her chest.A soft knock broke the silence.“Come in,” she called, her voice steady.It was Maren—one of the guards she’d spoken to earlier, a woman with sharp eyes and a fighter’s poise.“They’re waiting in the lower hall,” she said quietly.Nicole nodded, already slipping her boots on.The lower hall wasn’t meant for formal meetings, which was exactly why she used it. It was discreet, hidden behind old storage rooms where the scent of dust masked eavesdroppers. Inside, the two allies she’d hand-picked—Maren and a
The corridors of the packhouse were humming with their usual rhythm by the time Nicole made her way downstairs. Warriors passing between shifts nodded politely, and younger pack members ducked their heads with a quick “Luna” as she passed.The title still fit their lips naturally, she noticed. It hadn’t yet been stripped from her. That alone was leverage.She was heading for the training grounds when she caught sight of someone she hadn’t expected—Marcellus, the pack’s chief medic.He was kneeling beside one of the younger warriors, inspecting a gash along the boy’s forearm. His hands were steady, practiced, and his voice was calm.Nicole slowed her steps. Marcellus wasn’t political by nature—he cared more about stitches and poultices than power plays—but his word carried weight. People trusted him in their most vulnerable moments, and that trust was currency.When he looked up and spotted her, his expression softened. “Luna.”“Marcellus,” she greeted. “Bad injury?”“Nothing that won’
The sun rose pale and thin, barely cutting through the mist that clung to the Crescent Fang lands. Nicole stood at the balcony rail outside her chambers, a steaming mug of tea warming her hands. Below, she could see the courtyard beginning to stir — warriors heading toward the training grounds, hunters gathering bows and quivers, pups darting between the cabins, their laughter bright in the early morning air.It should have been comforting. This was the rhythm she’d nurtured during Brian’s absence, the steady heartbeat of the pack.But the air felt… different now.She caught it in the way a pair of she-wolves glanced up, spotted her, and immediately turned their heads to whisper to each other. In the way two warriors stiffened, almost imperceptibly, when she called down a greeting. It was subtle, but her instincts — honed from years of reading the pack’s mood — told her this wasn’t random.Her eyes followed the source.Down by the stables, Aria stood beside Brian, one delicate hand re