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Ashes of Truth
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2025-08-19 20:00:29The night clung to Viremont like a damp shroud, its streets whispering secrets only the brave—or the damned—dared to chase. I wasn’t sure which I was anymore. Brave? Damned? Or just too stubborn to stop walking toward the truth even when it promised to gut me.
Roman walked beside me, silent but coiled tight, his shoulders tense beneath his jacket. Every shadow we passed seemed to test him, daring him to bare his teeth. Behind us, Kellen kept his distance, as if being too close to either of us might light a fuse he wasn’t ready to stand near when it blew.I pulled my hood lower, trying to shake the chill in my chest that wasn’t coming from the night air. The words from our last conversation looped in my head like a broken record: Your uncle ordered it. Your mother’s death.I couldn’t scrub it out, couldn’t stitch myself back up after it tore through me. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.“Stop walking like you’re heading to the gallows,” Roman mutt
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Marked in the Middle Shadows That Speak
The night in Viremont was colder than usual. A damp fog crawled over the streets like something alive, and Nora felt it sink into her bones as she tightened the jacket around herself. Her boots clicked against the cracked pavement as she followed Roman, both of them walking in silence, both carrying too many questions they didn’t yet dare to voice.The pendant pulsed faintly under her shirt, a rhythmic throb that almost matched the beat of her heart. Every time it did, she felt her wolf stir, uneasy, whispering warnings she couldn’t fully understand.Roman finally broke the silence.“They’ll come for you soon.” His voice was low, rough, the kind that carried weight because it came from someone who’d been through hell and back.Nora glanced at him, shadows stretching across his sharp jawline under the streetlamp glow. “The Silver Ash?”Roman shook his head. “Not just them. There’s someone else in play. Someone who knows more about that pendant
Marked in the Middle Shadows in the Den
The silence inside Roman’s office pressed heavier than a storm. No one spoke after Kael’s whispered confirmation that the scent he’d picked up inside the warehouse wasn’t just familiar—it belonged to someone in Roman’s pack.Roman’s jaw was set tight, his knuckles whitening against the arm of his chair as he leaned forward. His amber eyes, sharp with suspicion, swept over everyone in the room—Nora, Kael, Lira, Janie—like he could peel back their skin and strip them down to their loyalty.“Say it again,” Roman demanded, voice low and clipped.Kael shifted uneasily, but his voice didn’t waver. “The scent wasn’t masked well. Whoever was there… they belong to us. One of yours, Roman.”The words hung in the air like a blade.Lira swore under her breath. “You’re saying someone on the inside fed information to Silver Ash?”Kael gave a short nod. “Not just fed. They guided them. The trails were too clean, too precise. They knew how we tr
Marked in the Middle The Silent Council
The night air in Viremont was heavier than usual, carrying a metallic tang that reminded Nora of blood long dried on steel. Her boots hit the cracked pavement with steady rhythm, but inside, her pulse raced. The hunt had shifted into something sharper, something that pulled her toward the city’s underbelly where whispers of the Silver Ash Pack never really died.She pulled her hood low as she approached the old courthouse ruins. It had once been a proud monument of law and order, now reduced to shadows and broken pillars—perfect for the kind of meeting she was walking into.Roman had warned her.“The Silent Council doesn’t gather unless blood is about to spill. You’re walking into a den of wolves that feed on secrets.”But Nora had no choice. The pendant, Lira’s disappearance, and the mounting evidence of betrayal all pointed here. The Silent Council—ancient werewolves who moved between packs like ghosts—held answers. And Nora wasn’t leaving until she had them.Inside, the silence was
Marked in the Middle Chains of Truth
The silence after Janie’s warning was suffocating. Her words—“Nora, the chains aren’t meant to bind the enemy. They’re meant to bind you”—still rang in my head like a curse.I stared at the iron cuffs Roman had dug up, the ones Kael swore belonged to the Silver Ash pack’s blood rites. They gleamed faintly under the dull fluorescent light of the safe house, almost alive, almost waiting.Grayson leaned against the peeling wall, arms folded, face unreadable. Too unreadable. That was what made me itch. Everyone in this damned city seemed to have secrets, and I was stuck in the middle like bait in a trap.“Say something,” I hissed, looking between Kael, Grayson, and Janie. My voice cracked. “What the hell does she mean by that? That I’m supposed to wear these?”Kael’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t meet my eyes.
Marked in the Middle Into the Dark
The night in Viremont had a way of swallowing sound. The further we pushed out of the city’s cracked streets, the quieter it became—like the dark itself wanted to hear us breathing. My boots crunched over gravel as we moved, and every step reminded me this wasn’t just a mission. It was a setup waiting to happen.Roman walked ahead, shoulders squared, his shadow stretching long under the half-moon. Kael flanked the left side, silent, his hand resting near the hilt of the knife strapped at his thigh. Janie kept close to me, her energy jittery as though she’d had too much caffeine, though I knew it wasn’t nerves of her own—it was nerves for me.The lead we were chasing was thin: a whisper from a frightened informant about a supply cache the Silver Ash Pack had hidden near the derelict rail lines outside Viremont. Roman had framed it like a chance to cripple their operations. But the way Grayson’s words
Marked in the Middle A City That Hunts Back
The storm hadn’t stopped. It rolled over Viremont like a curse, soaking the streets, rattling the windows of every crumbling high-rise, and whispering secrets through the gutters. I stood in the shadow of a half-burned building, Roman at my side, both of us watching the Silver Ash patrols sweep through the district like vultures picking apart a carcass.They weren’t subtle about it anymore. Wolves moved in pairs, in threes, marked with Ash insignias on their jackets. They weren’t trying to hide the takeover — they were daring anyone to stop them.And the worst part? No one was.The people of Viremont had gone quiet. The usual noise of the city — merchants yelling from open stalls, the clatter of bottles in the alleys, the soft hum of conversations in smoke-filled bars — had dulled to silence. Doors shut faster when we walked past. Faces stayed hidden behind curtains. Fear had settled d
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