THE CRIMSON PACT

Chapter One

The silver burned.

Marina Nightwater hung suspended in the Howling Cage, her wrists and ankles bound by chains that seared her skin with each shallow breath. The metal was ancient, forged specifically to contain wolves like her, creatures who walked between shadow and light, who could slip through darkness itself if given the chance.

But there was no darkness here. Only pain.

The cage swayed gently in the morning wind, suspended fifty feet above the ravine known as the Endless Fall. Below, jagged rocks jutted from churning white water, eager to receive her broken body should the chains fail. Above, storm clouds gathered, heavy and grey, as if the sky itself mourned what was about to unfold.

Marina's silver-marked fur rippled beneath her torn clothing. Her wolf fought to emerge, to shift and heal the burns that covered her arms, but the silver chains held her mortal form locked in place. She was trapped, caught between human and wolf, belonging to neither, with the agony of both.

"Please." The word escaped her cracked lips, barely a whisper.

But there was no one to hear. No one who would listen, even if they could.

The sound of footsteps on stone made her lift her head. Through the bars of her cage, she could see the gathering below. The entire Bloodfang Pack assembled on the cliff's edge, hundreds of wolves in human form, their amber eyes fixed on her with expressions ranging from hatred to grim satisfaction.

Kael Ironfang stood at the front, his arms crossed over his massive chest. The Alpha's second in command wore his vindication like a crown. He had always suspected her. Always known she was poison wrapped in beautiful skin.

He had been right.

Behind the crowd, the great wooden doors of the pack house swung open. Marina's breath caught in her chest, her heart stuttering with a mixture of hope and dread that made her stomach clench.

Silvain Redthorn emerged into the grey morning light.

Even now, even after everything, the sight of him stole what little breath she had left. In human form, he stood six and a half feet tall, his shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of his pack's survival. Silver streaked through his dark hair, premature grey from the stress of leadership, from the plague that had stolen so many of his wolves.

From her betrayal.

His amber eyes, once warm when they looked at her, were now cold as winter stone.

In his arms, he carried two small bundles wrapped in ceremonial pack blankets. Marina could see tiny fists waving, could hear the soft whimpers of infants who did not understand why their mother's scent had vanished from their den.

"Silvain." His name tore from her throat like broken glass. "Please. Please, let me hold them. Just once more."

He did not respond. Did not even look up at her cage.

The twins were three moons old. Sera, with her red brown fur that marked her as pure Bloodfang, and Luna, whose silver shadow coat revealed her hybrid heritage. Marina had nursed them yesterday morning, had sung them to sleep with lullabies her own mother once sang. She had believed she had time, time to find proof, time to make him understand, time to fix the catastrophic mistake of loving him.

She had been wrong.

Silvain walked to the edge of the cliff, his pack parting before him like water. He held the twins with a gentleness that made Marina's chest ache with physical pain. When he finally lifted his gaze to her cage, she saw something worse than hatred in his eyes.

She saw nothing.

"Silvain, please." Tears carved tracks through the dirt on her face. "I can explain. The evidence is fabricated. Ragnar, he..."

"Be silent."

His voice carried the weight of Alpha command. Every wolf in the assembly felt it, a pressure in the air that demanded obedience. Marina's jaw snapped shut despite her desperate need to speak, to explain, to make him see the truth.

But what was the truth? That she had come here to spy on him? That was real. That she had been sent to seduce him and discover if his pack was responsible for the plague killing wolves across all territories? Also true. That she had reported his movements, his vulnerabilities, his secrets to her Silvermoon handlers for months?

Undeniably true.

That she had fallen in love with him anyway changed nothing.

Silvain's second in command, Kael, stepped forward with a scroll. His voice boomed across the assembled pack. "Marina Nightwater, hybrid of Silvermoon and Shadowpaw blood, you stand accused of the following crimes: espionage against the Bloodfang Pack, conspiracy to commit murder through poisoning, the deaths of fourteen Bloodfang wolves including five pups, and high treason against your sworn Alpha and mate."

Each accusation landed like a physical blow. Marina shook her head frantically, silver chains rattling.

"I did not poison anyone. I would never, the pups, Silvain, I would never hurt children. You know me. You know..."

"I know nothing." Silvain's words were quiet, but they carried across the distance between them. "I thought I knew a wolf named Marina who loved her pack and her mate. Who cradled our daughters with gentle hands. Who sang in the moonlight and hunted at my side." His jaw tightened. "That wolf never existed. She was a shadow puppet, and I was fool enough to love the performance."

"No." Marina's voice broke. "That was real. All of it was real. The mission, yes, I will not deny that. But everything after, everything we built..."

"Was built on lies." Silvain shifted his hold on the twins, and Luna began to cry, as if sensing her mother's anguish. He soothed her with a practiced motion, and Marina felt her heart crack wider at the sight. He would be a good father. He already was. "Kael, present the evidence."

Kael moved forward with a wooden box. One by one, he removed the items that would seal Marina's fate.

Glass vials, small and delicate, still carrying traces of the poison that had killed so many. Marina's scent clung to them, undeniable even from this distance. She could smell herself on the glass, smell the herbs and darkness that comprised the deadly mixture.

But she had never touched those vials. Never even seen them before yesterday.

"These were found hidden in Luna's private chambers," Kael announced. "Beneath the floorboards under her sleeping furs."

Witness testimony came next. A young Bloodfang scout testified that he had seen Marina near the water supply the night before wolves began falling ill. An elder spoke of Marina's questions about which wolves drank from which streams, questions that had seemed innocent at the time.

The final piece of evidence made Marina's blood run cold.

A cloth stained with both poison and her blood.

"Blood magic was used to enhance the poison's potency," Kael explained, his voice heavy with disgust. "Luna's own blood, freely given, to ensure maximum death among our pack."

"That is not my blood." Marina shouted, her desperation overriding the Alpha command. "Test it. Use the old magic to verify..."

"We did," Silvain interrupted softly. "It is yours. Your shadow magic signature is woven through every drop."

The world tilted beneath her. It was impossible. She had not given her blood for any ritual. She would never...

Ragnar.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. Ragnar Strikefast, her former mate from the Shadowpaw Pack. He had the skill to forge such evidence. He had access to her blood from when they were bonded. And he had been furious when she broke their mate bond to come here, to seduce another Alpha for her mission.

"Ragnar did this," she gasped. "He framed me. Silvain, you have to believe me. He was here three days ago, demanding I complete my mission or..."

"Or what?" Silvain's eyes blazed with sudden fury. "Or he would reveal that you were a spy? That you were poisoning my pack? He did not reveal it, Marina. He saved us. He brought us proof of your treachery when we were too blind to see it ourselves."

Horror washed over her in waves. Ragnar had been here. Had shown Silvain the evidence. Had presented himself as the concerned former mate, warning them about the viper in their midst.

It was perfect. She had told Silvain about her mission herself, thinking honesty would save them. Instead, it had made Ragnar's lies seem like truth. Every real confession from her lips had given weight to his fabricated evidence.

"The sentence," Kael announced, "as determined by the pack tribunal, is death by silver poisoning at sunset."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Marina felt her wolf howl in despair deep inside her paralyzed form.

But Silvain raised his hand, and silence fell immediately.

"No," he said quietly.

Hope flared in Marina's chest, desperate and fragile.

Silvain looked up at her cage, and she saw the devastating truth in his eyes. Death would be mercy. He would give her none.

"Marina Nightwater, I hereby strip you of your title as Luna of Bloodfang Pack. I strip you of pack membership and protection. I strip you of your mate bond and the marks we share." He touched his shoulder where her bond mark had burned into his skin the night they first mated. As he spoke, Marina felt something tear inside her chest, felt their connection shred like paper in a fire.

She screamed. The pain was worse than the silver, worse than anything she had ever imagined. The bond mark on her own shoulder blazed white hot, then faded to an ugly grey scar.

"You will remain in the Howling Cage," Silvain continued, his voice flat and empty. "Unable to shift, unable to escape, until you die of exposure or thirst or until the cage finally falls. However long that takes." He paused, and for just a moment, she saw the briefest flash of agony in his eyes before it vanished behind ice. "You were my moon, Marina. You were my everything."

He turned his back on her, sheltering their daughters against his chest.

"Now you are nothing."

The pack dispersed slowly, wolves returning to their lives while Marina hung in her silver prison. Mothers pulled pups away before they could stare. Warriors spat in her direction. Elders shook their heads, mourning what they had lost.

Only Lyra Redthorn, Silvain's sister, paused at the edge of the cliff. She looked up at Marina with something that might have been pity, might have been understanding. Then she too turned away, following her brother back to the pack house.

Marina was alone.

The wind picked up, making the cage sway. Silver chains bit deeper into her wrists. Below, the river churned and beckoned. Above, storm clouds finally broke, and cold rain began to fall.

Marina Nightwater closed her eyes and let herself remember.

Six moons earlier...