Chapter 4

"Chapter 4"

Alara awoke to the soft gray of dawn filtering through the high window, a hush draping the fortress as it stood between night and day. She had slept restlessly, but the flashes of fitful dreams felt more vivid than before.

Asena’s gentle voice lingered in her consciousness even as she opened her eyes, a reassurance that she no longer walked this path alone. Each day in Alpha Ezra’s fortress brought new uncertainty, but it also brought the faint warmth of possibility.

She lay still for several moments, reflecting on the intense conversation she had shared with Ezra the night before. Though brief, it had left her shaken, her heart pounding with all the questions it raised. He had looked at her with a guarded curiosity and concern that she still did not fully understand.

More than anything, the memory of his hand grazing hers—an uncharacteristic gesture of care—kept replaying in her thoughts. She could still feel the soft pressure of his fingertips, the unexpected kindness in the midst of so much caution and conflict.

She exhaled slowly, pressing a palm to her chest to feel the steady rhythm of her heart. Asena, can you hear me? she asked in her mind. The answer came as a subtle pulse of awareness, a comforting presence that stretched through her entire being.

The sensation had grown stronger lately, enough that she sometimes sensed Asena’s voice even while fully awake. It was as if a hidden door inside her had begun to open, granting her glimpses of the magic her mother’s lineage carried.

I am here, Alara, the voice of her wolf whispered faintly. You are not alone. Alara closed her eyes, letting that certainty anchor her. She had spent so much of her life feeling isolated, cast out by her own father, unsure of her worth. Now, she could no longer pretend that her wolf was simply dormant or lost. A slow but steady awakening took shape deep within her, a gift that both thrilled and frightened her.

Everything she had learned in the archives with Damien hinted at a power older than any she had known before, tied to stories of legendary healing, or even more mysterious abilities. The White Shaman lineage. The notion felt surreal, like something that happened to someone else in a distant fable, yet here she was, quietly living it.

Her thoughts circled back to the fortress around her: the broad halls filled with suspicious looks, the tension crackling in the air each time Tanya swept by, the guard patrols so often on edge. Every day, she felt the precarious nature of her situation. Tanya, once content to view her as mere chattel forced upon

Ezra, now watched her with sharpened interest, as though suspecting that Alara might hold a hidden key to unravelling all her schemes. The memory of overhearing Tanya plotting with Elder Cyrus still haunted Alara, and it drove her to keep her head low and her secrets guarded until Beta Damien and Gamma Lucas could gather enough evidence to act.

Finally, with a quiet sigh, she pushed herself from the bed and dressed in a plain tunic and leggings. The bruise on her shoulder still ached if she moved too abruptly, but it was healing.

She glanced at the door, willing herself to face another day with as much composure as she could muster. Her mother’s bloodline was stirring inside her, and the fortress bristled with conflict. Ready or not, her role in these unfolding events was growing too large to ignore.

She slipped into the corridor, greeting the morning hush with deliberate calm. The fortress’s stone walls rose around her, silently bearing witness to countless stories of ambition and betrayal. She descended a flight of steps leading to a narrow hall, catching sight of Beta Damien near an open archway. His gaze found her quickly, and he offered a small nod, beckoning her closer with a discreet motion.

“Good morning,” Damien said, his voice kept low. “I was hoping to see you before everything becomes busy.”

Alara felt a flicker of relief at his familiar presence. “Good morning. Did you learn anything else about… well, everything?”

He hesitated, scanning the corridor to ensure no prying ears lingered. “Lucas and I have had quiet conversations with two warriors who suspect something is off about Tanya. They haven’t yet seen anything incriminating, but small inconsistencies keep arising. It’s not enough to confront Ezra, but it’s confirmation that Tanya’s web of manipulation is deeper than simple jealously.”

Alara folded her arms, remembering Tanya’s sharp eyes and cutting remarks. “I’m not surprised. She’s too careful to make any obvious errors, especially in public. But it helps to know we’re not alone in noticing the cracks. Are you worried Cyrus might catch on to what you and Lucas are doing?”

Damien offered a wry smile. “Of course I’m worried, but we’re taking precautions. Cyrus is a respected elder, and if he’s truly part of Tanya’s schemes, he’ll have eyes watching for any sign we’re onto them. Still, the more I look into it, the more certain I am that they’re plotting something large, something timed and precise.” He paused, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “Thank you again for telling us what you overheard. Without that warning, we might have dismissed smaller clues.”

Alara nodded. “I’ve been trying to stay out of Tanya’s path, but it feels like she’s testing me, especially lately. She’s… watchful.”

As if on cue, they both heard footsteps approaching from beyond the corridor. Damien’s posture straightened, and Alara followed suit. A pair of warriors strode by, exchanging polite nods before continuing on their way. Alara noticed the tension remain in Damien’s jaw for a moment longer before he relaxed.

“I’ll catch up with you and Lucas later,” he said quietly. “We’ve got enough reason to keep gathering evidence. Try to stay calm if she confronts you. We can’t afford to tip our hand before we’re certain we can prove her intentions.”

Alara murmured an agreement, parting ways with a soft farewell. She inhaled slowly, steeling herself for the day ahead. Drawing on Asena’s distant but reassuring presence, she made for the courtyard to see if there were tasks needing her attention.

She had found that keeping busy helped soothe her nerves. Though she had no desire to return to a servant’s role, being useful and moving among the staff allowed her to overhear the pulse of the fortress, the subdued chatter of rumors and alliances.

By midday, Alara was ferrying a pile of clean linens from the laundry to a storeroom, her thoughts half-occupied with what might be found next in the archives or how she might harness her awakening magic without alerting the entire pack. Rounding a corner into a quieter hallway, she nearly dropped her bundle when a voice called out her name.

“Alara,” Tanya said, her tone deceptively light as she stepped from a darkened alcove. “I’ve been hoping to find you.”

Alara forced herself not to flinch. It felt like a predator’s voice in the hush. She faced Tanya, meeting her hazel eyes carefully. “Yes?” she said, keeping her voice low.

Tanya made a slow, deliberate show of looking Alara up and down, taking in the plain tunic, the linens in her arms, the faint bruise barely hidden by the fabric. “I’ve been noticing you moving about the fortress more confidently of late. It’s quite a change from when you first arrived. I wonder what’s caused such a remarkable transformation.”

Alara set the linens on a small table at the hallway’s edge, trying to steady her heartbeat. She recalled what Damien said about not revealing any suspicion. “I’m learning how this pack runs, that’s all,” Alara replied. “And I’ve been recovering from… my father’s treatment.”

Tanya’s lips curved into a feigned sympathetic smile. “Of course. Your father was cruel, wasn’t he?” She let the question hang, though her eyes gleamed with something closer to glee. “But even so, you must realize that you have no power here. You remain in this fortress only because Ezra has chosen to permit it. That could change at any time.”

Alara resisted the urge to bristle at the veiled threat. She forced a calm tone. “I’m grateful to Alpha Ezra for giving me a place to stay.”

“I see.” Tanya took a slow step forward, her voice dropping to a near hiss. “Yet you make friends here, don’t you? Beta Damien, Gamma Lucas. Perhaps even the Alpha himself. Strange for someone who claims to want no trouble.”

Alara felt her pulse spike. “I haven’t caused any trouble. I’ve only tried to help where I can.”

Tanya’s brow arched. “Help? I wonder if that’s truly your motive. Or do you fancy yourself a secret keeper, gleaning bits of information about the fortress and its inhabitants?” She let the accusation linger, though no open proof hung behind her words. “If so, you should know that secrets can be dangerous. You wouldn’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of the pack’s loyalties.”

Alara summoned the memory of Asena’s steady presence. Her wolf’s voice was a gentle murmur at the back of her mind, lending her a touch of confidence that she was not alone. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Tanya,” she said calmly. “But I’m not here to disrupt anything.”

Tanya’s eyes flashed with annoyance at Alara’s lack of fear. “You’ve grown bold indeed, speaking to me so plainly. If it weren’t for your mother’s rumored bloodline, I’d wager you’d have no reason to remain in the Alpha’s sight. He may feel a misguided curiosity for your dormant power, or pity for your father’s cruelty, but that doesn’t make you part of this pack. Remember that.”

Alara pressed her lips together, her stomach twisting at the insult. “I don’t pretend to hold any rank. I only wish to find my place and understand who I truly am.”

Silence fell. Tanya studied Alara with thinly veiled malice, then drew closer, invading her personal space. Her next words came in a near whisper. “Understanding yourself will do you little good if you end up like your mother. The pack lost its precious Luna once before. Do not tempt fate by believing you might step into her role. There is no room for you to climb higher. Am I clear?”

A cold jolt of anger shot through Alara, but she held it in check. She let the tension simmer, meeting Tanya’s gaze. “I would never dream of replacing anyone. I know my limits.”

Tanya watched her for a long, fraught moment, then snorted softly. “Such meekness. At least you’re capable of a little sense. Keep it that way.” She spun on her heel and strode off without waiting for Alara’s reply, her posture rigid, as though displeased at failing to provoke more fear.

Alara’s hands shook, and she pressed them to her sides, breathing as steadily as she could. She realized she had just faced the sharp edge of Tanya’s hostility directly, and though her heart still pounded, she felt a quiet pride that she had not cowered or broken under the woman’s intimidation. The conversation had felt like a test, a way for Tanya to measure her. Alara silently vowed that she would not fail the next time either. With Asena’s presence warming her chest, she picked up the linens again and carried on.

Hours later, as the sun arced high overhead, Alara found herself in the courtyard, letting the bustle of pack life swirl around her. She filled a small pitcher of water from a stone basin, pausing to watch as a group of warriors prepared for afternoon drills. One of them, a lean woman with a fresh scar across her cheek, offered Alara a faint nod. The acknowledgment brought a fleeting smile to Alara’s face. Though she was still an outsider, threads of acceptance had begun to form.

A short distance away, she saw Damien in muted conversation with Lucas. Their expressions were tight, as though something weighed on them. Alara wished she could read lips, but she dared not approach. Instead, she let her attention drift across the courtyard until it snagged unexpectedly on Alpha Ezra himself, standing near one of the entrances. He was in conversation with an older warrior, arms folded, brow furrowed as though trying to parse a difficult problem. Even in that stern posture, he radiated an undercurrent of restless energy that made Alara’s pulse quicken.

Abruptly, Ezra’s gaze shifted, and he spotted Alara across the courtyard. Their eyes locked for a moment that stretched longer than it should have. She swallowed, unsure if she should look away, but something about the intensity in his expression rooted her to the spot. At last, he inclined his head in a respectful nod, then returned his attention to the older warrior by his side. Alara stood still, her heart fluttering for reasons she could not quite explain. She felt the sting of Tanya’s warning echo in her mind. The notion that she might be stepping beyond her boundaries to earn such direct notice from the Alpha both unnerved and emboldened her.

By evening, tension lay thick in the fortress halls. Whispered talk of border disputes and uneasy alliances drifted among the warriors, while a few servants scurried about with anxious faces. Alara sensed that something was shifting, as if the friction in the pack had reached a new level. She heard half-spoken worries that some elders were challenging the wisdom of certain border patrols, or that Tanya had demanded more influence in deciding the fortress’s daily affairs. Beneath it all, Alara felt an undercurrent, like the hush before a brewing storm.

She had just finished helping in the kitchens when she nearly collided with Ezra in one of the quieter corridors. He caught her arm to steady her, eyes flicking over her face as though gauging her mood.

“I was looking for you,” he said softly, releasing her arm once she was steady.

“For me?” Alara asked, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

Ezra exhaled a slow breath. His amber eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern. “Not… wrong, exactly. I wanted to speak with you. Alone.”

She nodded, her throat tightening. Ever since her exchange with Tanya, she had dreaded further confrontations, but this was different. Ezra’s presence ignited a different kind of uncertainty, one threaded with empathy and unresolved tension. He motioned for her to follow him down a hallway rarely used at night, where the flickering light of a single torch set shadows dancing on the walls.

They stopped near an arched window that overlooked a small internal courtyard. Moonlight cast faint silver lines on the stone floor. The hush of evening made Alara’s pulse sound loud in her ears.

Ezra spoke first. “I’ve noticed your interactions with Damien… and others in the fortress. You’ve managed to settle in here more effectively than I expected.”

Alara pressed her lips together. “I’ve been trying to help, to show I can be of use. And to learn from people who know the fortress better than I do.”

He studied her carefully, as though trying to decipher a complicated puzzle. “That doesn’t explain the change in you. When you first arrived, you were wary, withdrawn. Now, you move about with a steadier purpose, and I sense a quiet confidence in your eyes. Something has changed.”

She hesitated, recalling Asena’s presence. How could she explain that her dormant wolf was awakening, that she was no longer plagued by the sense of worthlessness instilled by her father? “I’ve started coming to terms with… who I am. And who I might become. I’ve realized that I don’t want my life to be defined by the cruelty of my father, or by fear of the future.”

His gaze flickered with interest. “And do you have an idea of who you might become?”

She swallowed, the memory of the White Shaman lineage swirling in her mind. “Not entirely. I only know I’m done running away from my own potential. Whatever my mother’s bloodline means for me, I refuse to let it remain buried.”

Ezra’s expression shifted, revealing a trace of admiration he did not quite hide. “Tanya has… raised concerns. She believes your lineage might be more than rumor. She warns of the danger in awakening old magic.”

Alara’s heart pounded at the mention of Tanya. “I don’t know what to say to that. Magic can be dangerous, I suppose, if used recklessly. But knowledge shouldn’t be feared. Nor should a wolf discovering her own strength.”

A near-silence settled, broken only by the distant clank of armor from some distant guard’s route. At length, Ezra exhaled and spoke again, more softly. “I find myself conflicted. My loyalty to those who stood by me after my mate’s death runs deep, and yet I see in Tanya a… fervor that no longer feels grounded in the pack’s best interests. I sense it, but I cannot yet pinpoint why. And then there is you, thrust into my life by your father’s cruelty, but forging your own path in ways I cannot ignore.”

Alara glanced down, a subtle warmth creeping through her. “I wish I had all the answers you’re looking for, but I barely know my own truths right now. I only know that if there is trouble ahead, I—” She paused, feeling a sudden flush at the words. “I want to help protect this pack.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he nodded gravely. “It may come to that. The rumors of unrest haven’t died down. If trouble does arise, will you truly stand for a place that once belonged to your father’s enemy?”

She met his gaze, the memory of her father’s oppressive reign flooding her thoughts. “Yes, I will. I don’t see you as my enemy. Not anymore.”

For a moment, the tension between them hummed with unspoken possibilities. Alara felt the faint echo of her mother’s lineage stirring in her chest, a reminder that she carried something worth protecting. She studied Ezra’s face, glimpsing a complicated blend of sorrow, longing, and admiration in the small lines around his eyes.

He reached out, as though to touch her hand again, but caught himself. “I appreciate your honesty,” he murmured, sounding almost pained. “I didn’t expect to be so uncertain about… everything.”

Alara felt an ache in her chest, sympathy for his inner turmoil mixing with her own uncertain emotions. “You’ve carried a lot alone. Perhaps you don’t have to anymore.”

He pressed his lips together, as though a rush of words lingered unspoken. Then he gave a single, curt nod. “It’s late. I should go. But… thank you.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Alara with a torrent of thoughts swirling behind her eyes.

Night deepened, and a somber hush fell over the fortress. Alara returned to her room with her mind awash in possibilities. She sensed the pack was perched on the brink of something, with loyalties stretched thin and hidden alliances stirring in the shadows. Yet she felt a growing determination that, if danger came for Ezra, she would not stand idly by. She would do whatever she could, even if it meant risking her newly discovered powers.

As midnight approached, the tension in the fortress became tangible. The corridors lay mostly empty, and torches guttered in their brackets. In the gloom, Beta Damien paced beside one of the side gates, half-concealed behind a wooden support beam. He had noticed Tanya moving stealthily through the halls, her demeanor guarded in a way that reeked of hidden purpose. The memory of Alara’s overheard conversation with Tanya and Elder Cyrus spurred him on, a cold knot of dread forming in his stomach.

Damien pressed himself against the wall as the gate creaked open just enough for Tanya to slip out. She glanced around, cloak pulled tight, then vanished into the moonlit night. A swirl of suspicion hardened in Damien’s chest. If she was meeting someone, and at this hour, it could not be a matter of harmless discussion. His duty as Beta demanded he find out more, no matter the risk.

He followed her at a cautious distance, grateful for the partial cover of trees and uneven torchlight. The fortress’s outer grounds gave way to a sparse forest, and he moved carefully, each step planned to avoid snapping twigs. He prayed the night breeze would cover any sound he made. Overhead, the moon shone cold and bright, revealing Tanya’s silhouette gliding ahead of him through shifting shadows.

What are you up to, Tanya? Damien thought, heart pounding. His wariness mounted with each passing second. He edged closer until he reached a small clearing near the fringe of the forest. That was when he saw them: three shapes cloaked in darkness, one taller than the rest, standing in a cluster. Tanya walked confidently toward them, as though meeting trusted allies.

Damien crouched behind the trunk of a wide oak, struggling to hear the low murmur of voices carried on the faint night air. The quiet was suffocating, charged with a sense of terrible discovery. Gradually, the wind shifted enough for him to catch snippets of speech.

“… consider the fortress vulnerable if we move quickly,” one of the cloaked figures said, voice deep and rough. “Your Alpha is strong but too reliant on illusions of loyalty.”

Tanya nodded, her tone biting. “He suspects something, but not enough to act. This is our advantage. Once we undermine his credibility with certain elders, we strike. By the time he realizes the scale of betrayal, it will be too late.”

Damien felt a cold sweat break across his forehead. Tanya’s words confirmed every fear he, Alara, and Lucas had harbored. He listened with heightened vigilance, wishing he had a second set of ears to catch every word.

Another figure hissed, “And this girl you speak of… the one with rumored powers?”

Tanya’s shoulders stiffened. “Alara. She remains an unknown, but I suspect she’s more dangerous than she appears. Her lineage is not mere rumor. If she stands between us and success, we remove her.”

Damien’s blood ran cold. The time for half-measures was over. If they truly meant to harm Alara, they would do it soon, perhaps the instant they launched their betrayal. For all his level-headed resolve, Damien felt anger surge through him. This was an absolute threat to both Alara’s life and Ezra’s leadership. If only we’d had more time to gather proof. But what he was seeing now was proof enough, or so he hoped.

Tanya turned to face one of the taller figures, lowering her voice. Damien edged forward, straining to hear. “I need your pack’s backing when the final blow comes. Keep your warriors ready. As soon as the fortress divides, your troops will slip in. We will stage the downfall of Alpha Ezra from within, and your influence will expand into this territory unchallenged.”

A wave of dread swamped Damien. This was bigger than a mere power grab. Tanya intended to hand the fortress to a rival alliance, all to dethrone Ezra. The scale of her betrayal was horrifying. He clenched his fists, understanding at once that they had run out of time to gather more evidence. They needed to act immediately.

His heart hammered as he slowly took a step backward, determined to return to the fortress and warn Ezra—warn everyone—of the impending danger. But the moment he shifted his weight, a twig snapped beneath his foot, cracking with a sound that might as well have been thunder in the quiet forest. Damien froze, blood running cold.

He saw Tanya stiffen instantly. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the clearing, the dark shapes of her allies doing the same. One of them growled softly, the menacing sound echoing in the hush. “We’re not alone,” the figure spat, turning his cloaked head in Damien’s direction.

Damien’s heart lurched. The conspirators drew closer, weapons glinting faintly in the moonlight. He flattened himself behind the oak trunk, every muscle tense. If they saw him, he would have to run for his life, or fight. But any confrontation here, in the dark, with three unknown adversaries plus Tanya, was a nightmare scenario. Worse still, if he were captured, all hope of warning Ezra vanished in an instant.

Tanya moved swiftly, her eyes sweeping the darkness. “Show yourself,” she called, voice cold. “Whoever’s skulking in the shadows, you’ve made a grave mistake.” Her words dripped with malevolence, a woman on the cusp of conquering the fortress from within.

Damien barely dared to breathe. He felt the bark of the tree against his back, every sense screaming at him to run, but fear kept him rooted. If he moved too soon, he risked exposing himself. Through the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of movement as one of Tanya’s companions rounded toward his hiding spot.

Step by step, they came closer, boots crunching on the forest floor. Damien forced himself to remain utterly still, heart pounding so loudly he feared it must be audible. If he was discovered, he might not survive long enough to raise the alarm. But if he stayed silent, there was a sliver of chance that Tanya and her accomplices would assume the intruder had fled deeper into the forest. He swallowed hard, mind racing with visions of what would happen if he failed to warn Ezra in time.

Tanya’s eyes narrowed as she peered into the gloom, uncertain. A long, taut moment passed, filled with mounting unease. Damien clung to hope, urging himself not to give in to panic. He still had to reach the fortress—still had to protect Alara from the threat Tanya had just uttered, and above all, warn the Alpha that the conspiracy was far larger and more deadly than they had ever guessed.

Yet as he began to edge away ever so slightly, one of the cloaked figures snarled, drawing a blade. Tanya lifted a hand to signal caution, her posture coiled like a predator on the verge of striking. Damien realized with cold clarity that they would not give up easily. If they suspected even a single witness, they would hunt him down.

A hush clamped over the clearing, broken only by the rustle of leaves in the faint breeze. With excruciating slowness, Damien shifted his weight to creep back one more step. His breath felt locked in his chest, every hair on his neck standing on end. The moment felt suspended in time, poised on the edge of violence. He gripped the hilt of his own dagger, prepared for the worst.

But then Tanya’s voice cut through the darkness, quiet and threatening. “Search the trees,” she ordered. “Whoever is out there, they won’t leave this place alive.”

Damien’s pulse thundered, and he found himself immobile, trapped by the inevitability of a swift confrontation. The conspirators fanned out, footsteps closing in. As branches scraped their clothing, and moonlight flickered on drawn steel, Damien braced for discovery. His mind whirled, fear mingling with determination. The entire fortress depended on him now.

All it would take was a single glance around the tree trunk, and his cover would be gone. The hush of the forest weighed on him, the tension unbearable. He clung to the faint hope that some stroke of luck might hide him until the conspirators moved on, but the logic of the situation was grim. Tanya had heard the sound. She would not depart until the threat to her secrecy was quashed.

Damien’s heart pounded so fiercely it hurt. Silently, he offered a prayer to whatever force might be watching, praying he could slip away, praying he would not die here among the cold trees, praying he might reach Alara and Ezra with the truth in time. The conspirators’ footsteps grew louder, each step a knell of doom.

Then Tanya herself turned sharply in his direction, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Damien could see her silhouette plainly in the moonlight as she advanced, scanning the darkness. He tensed, muscles coiled for a desperate escape. She took another step, and another. The distance between them shrank alarmingly.

He barely suppressed a shudder as she paused not more than a few paces from the oak trunk. In the pale glow, her features were set in a hard mask of lethal intent. As he watched from his hiding place, he saw her lips curl in the faintest of triumphant smirks.

“You’re out there, aren’t you?” she murmured, as though speaking to the night itself. “Come out, or I’ll burn this entire patch of forest to root you out.”

Damien dared not move. He felt pinned by her presence, every second a dagger poised above his head. The conspirators behind her stirred, weapons glinting, their forms looming in anticipation of violence. The sense of a trap closing in tightened around Damien’s chest.

He realized with a jolt that she might not be bluffing; if setting a fire was what it took to cover her treachery, she would do it. The heaviness of that reality pressed down on him. His lungs squeezed for air, and a single question pounded in his mind: Would he escape with his life to deliver the truth, or would Tanya’s plot claim its first victim here in the moonlit woods?

The tension crested. Tanya looked around, and Damien could swear her eyes lingered on the trunk that concealed him. All sound seemed to vanish, leaving only the thudding of his own heartbeat. He braced himself to run, to fight, to do something—yet he knew the odds were grim.

As if reading his mind, Tanya jerked her head, motioning one of her cloaked allies to circle around. Damien tensed, feeling the presence shifting behind the tree. He was out of time. Every nerve demanded he break cover, but terror kept him pinned in place. If he were caught now, everything would be lost. Alara, Ezra, the entire pack… all would remain blind to the approaching betrayal.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. The footsteps came closer, each one a drumbeat of doom. Beneath his breath, he forced himself to remain silent, though adrenaline and fear screamed for action. At any second, the conspirator’s blade might slash around the trunk.

Then the figure halted. The night air crackled with tension. Tanya took one more scanning look across the clearing, her expression twisted with anger. “Search every inch,” she hissed. “Whoever heard our plan, they must not leave these woods alive.”

Damien swallowed, the dryness in his throat almost painful. He could not remain undiscovered for long. Still, he clung to hope. If by some miracle they moved past him, he could slip away and vanish into deeper darkness. Yet the slightest slip of his foot, or the faintest rustle of fabric, would reveal him in an instant.

The forest felt like it was holding its breath. Damien hardly dared blink. He could see Tanya’s companions shifting ominously, knives at the ready. His entire life boiled down to these few seconds, in which either survival or death might claim him.

And then the chapter must end in a cliffhanger. The user wants it to end.

The conspirators’ footsteps closed in, edging dangerously near, and Tanya’s gaze snapped to the side, glimmering with the predatory light of a hunter who had caught the scent of her prey. Damien’s blood froze. He realized she was almost upon him, just one or two paces from revealing his hiding spot entirely.

In that final heartbeat, Damien’s entire world narrowed to the roar of blood in his ears. He braced himself for the inevitable moment she would fling the shadows aside and catch him crouched there, entirely at her mercy. And when that instant arrived, everything he and Alara had prepared for, all the secrets he carried, all the precarious hopes of saving Alpha Ezra from betrayal, hung in the balance.

He could see Tanya now, her cloak shifting in the moonlight, eyes raking over the tree trunk. One of her conspirators drew a harsh breath behind her. She tensed, a savage triumph flickering across her face as if she had finally located her prey. Damien’s heart nearly stopped.

Just as she moved, the night seemed to stretch into one slow, horrifying frame. He had nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The conspirators were upon him, so close he could almost touch their blades. One flicker of motion from him or them, and the clearing would erupt into bloodshed.

Yet everything was suspended at the peak of tension, leaving no resolution, no relief from the terror. Damien felt his mouth go dry. Across the small clearing, the pale moon seemed to mock his predicament. A single question rose in his mind: Would he live to warn Ezra, or would this forest become his grave?