Chapter 5 THE LAWS OF THE STORMFANG

​I didn't dare turn on the desk lamp. The faint moonlight streaming through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains provided just enough illumination for the laptop screen. Marcus Thorne’s threat was a cold, constant knot in my stomach, overriding the confusing warmth of Kael’s growled claim.

​My fingers, still trembling slightly, hovered over the keyboard. I had to know what kind of prison I was in. I typed the phrase that had fallen from Marcus’s lips like a stone: "Stormfang line."

​The first results were useless: real estate firms and local history blogs discussing the Thorne family's extensive land holdings. But by adding terms like "Pack history" and "tradition," the results deepened, leading me into the shadowy corners of the internet - old folklore forums, archived supernatural community papers, and cryptic wiki entries.

​I sifted through the noise, discarding the obvious fiction. Gradually, a terrifying, coherent picture began to emerge.

​The Pack. They weren't just a group; they were a tightly knit, hierarchical society ruled by a single, supreme leader: the Alpha. The Stormfang Pack, specifically, was mentioned repeatedly as one of the oldest and most traditional lines in the region. They were known for their rigid adherence to ancient law and their ruthless protection of secrecy. Their isolation in the woods wasn't just a preference; it was a matter of survival.

​The Alpha and Luna. The Alpha needed a Luna - a female Mate - to successfully transition into true leadership. The Mate bond, while described romantically in some forums, was fundamentally a biological requirement. It was the key to stabilizing the Alpha’s often volatile wolf spirit, allowing him to maintain control, especially during the painful transformation, or "Shift." A stable Mate equaled a strong Alpha.

​Then came the crippling realization: The Human Problem.

​Pages dedicated to Pack laws detailed why a human Mate was considered an intolerable weakness. Humans were short-lived, physically weak, and incapable of understanding or upholding Pack secrecy. The Pack viewed a human Luna as a ticking clock - a liability that could expose them all.

​Marcus’s rage wasn't personal; it was political. By claiming a human - me - Kael had not just embarrassed his father; he had fundamentally jeopardized the Stormfang succession. He was giving his rivals within the Pack a clear, legal basis to challenge his claim to the Alpha throne.

​I was a pawn, but a crucially important one. Kael’s need for the Mate bond to control his shifting, and Marcus’s need to maintain the Alpha line, were in direct, violent opposition.

​A wave of nausea hit me. The rhythmic thudding from the woods - Kael running himself to exhaustion - returned, and with it, the familiar, sharp pain in my head.

​The bond wasn't just an emotional claim; it was a physical, psychic tether. I was feeling his struggle, his pain. Every mile he ran to try and 'burn' my scent from his system, I felt the stress and the agony of the rejection. He was trying to sever a connection that was literally woven into his biological necessity.

​I closed the forums, sinking back against my pillows. Marcus's ultimatum - You have until the end of the week to sever the connection, or I will do it for you - now made perfect, terrifying sense. Severing the connection might mean killing me.

​I had no peace, no freedom, and no escape. I wasn't just a step-sister; I was a living, breathing target.

​My gaze drifted to the heavy, locked door of my room. Marcus was the immediate threat, but Kael was the unstoppable force. I needed a plan that protected me from the Alpha and used the Mate Bond - the very thing I hated - as leverage.

​I decided to try and find information on the physical toll of the Mate bond, focusing on how a female could temporarily break or mask the connection.

​Just as my fingers hovered over the search bar again, a quiet tap sounded on my windowpane.

​I froze, my blood running cold. My room was on the second floor.

​I slowly turned my head toward the curtains. A small, dark object was taped to the glass, barely visible in the moonlight. I cautiously slid off the bed and approached the window, peering through a slit in the curtain.

​My breath hitched. No one was there.

​I carefully peeled back the heavy fabric. Taped to the outside of the glass was a single, folded piece of thick, dark paper. Next to it, clearly visible in the reflected light from my screen, was a faint, almost invisible smudge of dirt and blood. Someone - or something - had been standing on the narrow stone ledge outside my window, two stories up.

​My heart hammering, I unlocked the window and snatched the note inside. I flattened the paper, and in the dim light, I read the two words, scrawled fiercely in a hurried, powerful script:

​"Meet. Midnight."

​No signature was needed. The paper smelled intensely of musky cologne and damp earth. Kael had broken his father's confinement. He was outside the fortress, and he was demanding a meeting.