Chapter 4 - First Blood

Day 1, Dawn

I take Rook’s knife.

The hilt is cold. Bone, not steel. Etched with dead wolves. It fits my hand like it was carved for me. Maybe it was. Project Moonbane had nineteen years to plan this.

“Good girl,” Rook says. He’s still on his knees from last night, shirt gone, my bite marks black on his throat. He holds his palm out. Waiting. “Do it.”

The other three watch. Silas leans against the west wall, mother’s voice gone for now. Theo’s sewn eyes track the sound of the blade. Kain taps his tablet, but he’s not looking at it. He’s looking at my hands.

“Estate rules,” the guard said. “The Luna fights. The Luna bleeds. Until Day Seven, no blood is lethal.”

This isn’t choosing a mate. This is roll call.

I step forward. The chain from last night is broken at my feet. Nothing holds me now except the four marks on my throat and the Law counting down.

I grab Rook’s wrist. His pulse is slow. Too slow for a living thing. Necro-wolf. Dead, but not.

“Why you?” I ask. Not soft. Not kind. I need him to hear it. I need them to hear it. “Why do I start with you?”

Rook’s mouth curves. “Because I’m the only one you’ve killed three times already. You want to learn how to end a King? Start with the one who gets back up.”

That’s the truth. Strategy, not love. I can’t say that. If I say it, he’ll hear the lie underneath. So I don’t say anything.

I cut.

The blade slides across his palm. Shallow. Clean. Non-lethal, just like the Law promised. Blood wells up. Black, not red. Necro blood. Cold.

It hits my skin.

The bond ignites.

Not heat this time. Ice. I’m drowning in snow and ash and a pack screaming as they burn. I see it — Rook on a throne of bones, Blood Rot eating his wolves alive. I see him walk into the fire to save a pup. I see him die. Not flatline. Die. Heart stop, wolf go dark, Goddess take him.

Then I see him come back. Crawling out of his own grave, dirt in his teeth, eyes silver. First Necro-wolf. First Dead King.

I gasp. Stagger back. The memory breaks.

Rook catches my elbow before I hit stone. His cut palm presses to my cheek, smearing black blood on my skin. Claiming. Marking.

“You saw it,” he says. Not a question.

“I saw you die,” I whisper. “For real. Before the flatline. Before the Goddess brought you back wrong.”

“And now you know why I can’t stay dead,” Rook says. “Unless you do it. Unless it’s you.”

His blood is on my face. On my lips. My tongue darts out before I can stop it. Tastes like winter and graves. My hybrid wolf purrs.

Silas pushes off the wall. “My turn tomorrow.” His voice is his own. For now. “You bled for him, Luna. You bleed for me next, or I take it.”

“You’ll wait,” Kain says, still calm. Still tapping. “Her vitals spiked 40% during the bond transfer. If we trigger two Kings in twelve hours before Day Seven, the feedback could kill her.”

“She didn’t die when I flatlined three times,” Rook snaps.

“She wasn’t bonded three times,” Kain says. “She is now.”

Theo stands. He finds my face with his hands, same as last night. Sewn eyes inches from mine. He doesn’t touch the blood. He touches me. Thumb on my jaw. Grounding.

“You saw his death,” Theo says quietly. “On Day 3, you’ll see mine. On Day 5, you’ll see his.” He nods toward Silas. “On Day 6, you’ll see his.” Nod to Kain. “That’s how the Law works. You bleed them, you know them. You know them, you choose.”

“Or I choose none of you,” I say.

“You don’t,” Theo says. Sad. Certain. “I’ve seen it. You try. We all die. Including you.”

Rook wraps my bleeding hand in his shirt. His shirt. The one he gave me last night. Still smells like ash.

“Day One,” Rook says. “You picked me. Tomorrow, Silas gets his turn. The day after, Theo. Then Kain. Day Seven, Law goes live. Day Eight, you decide who stops getting back up.”

I look at my hand in his. Black blood soaking white cloth. “This doesn’t mean I’m yours.”

“It means you’re learning,” Rook says. “Learn fast, Luna. Seven days isn’t long when you have to decide who lives.”

The door opens. New guard. New tray. No syringe this time. Just food. Water. And four more knives.

“Training,” the guard says. “East yard. Now. Alpha Draevor wants to see what his investment can do.”

Rook stands, pulling me with him. “Investment,” he repeats. Bitter. “He sold you. He’ll sell your sister next if you don’t perform.”

My blood goes cold. “What?”

Kain’s tablet beeps. He looks down, then up. Face blank. “Draevor sent a message. Your sister’s Claiming is in thirty days. If you don’t choose a King by then, he offers her to all four of us. At once.”

The room goes quiet.

Silas laughs. It’s his mother’s laugh. “Game’s changed, Luna. You’re not just fighting for us. You’re fighting for her.”

I look at the four knives. I look at Rook’s blood on my hands.

I picked him first.

Tomorrow, I pick who bleeds second.

Because if I don’t, she does.