THE IMPOSSIBLE MISSION

Chapter 3

The projection of Cian’s bloodied face hung in the air like a curse.

“Marina…” His voice cracked through the shadow magic, weak but unmistakably real. His eyes the same stormy gray as their mother’s ,searched the empty space as if he could feel her presence.

Marina’s knees nearly buckled. The shadow magic inside her surged violently, threatening to spill out in a storm of darkness. She clenched her jaw until her teeth ached, forcing it back down. Showing weakness here would only make things worse.

“Release the image,” she said, her voice dangerously low.

The Elder Moonseer waved a dismissive hand. Cian’s form dissolved into black smoke. The chamber was silent except for the faint crackle of torches and the distant coughing of plague-stricken wolves outside.

“You have no choice,” Moonseer said flatly. “Your brother has been in our custody since yesterday morning. Insurance, you might call it. Ragnar suggested it himself.”

Of course he had.

Marina’s stomach twisted. Ragnar had always known exactly where to press the blade. Cian was the one part of her life he could never fully claim. Her little brother is mischievous, stubborn, fiercely protective , had been her only anchor after their mother disappeared. And now they were using him as leverage.

She lifted her gaze to the twelve elders seated around the stone table. Their faces were masks of cold pragmatism. No pity. No hesitation. Just wolves protecting their dying pack by any means necessary.

“Tell me the full mission,” Marina said. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.

Moonseer leaned forward, silver eyes gleaming.

“You will travel to Bloodfang territory immediately. The Blood Moon Hunt begins in three days. You will infiltrate their gathering as an unmated female seeking a new pack. Use every weapon you possess your body, your shadow magic, your hybrid allure to get close to Alpha Silvain.”

Marina’s skin crawled at the casual way the elder spoke of her body as a tool. The same body Ragnar had used for three years. The same body that still aches from the ritual.

“Seduce him,” Moonseer continued. “Get him alone. Learn the truth. Has Bloodfang engineered this plague to weaken us? Are they poisoning our waters? Report back through shadow courier the moment you know.”

“And if they are guilty?” Marina asked.

“You poison Alpha Silvain. A slow-acting shadow venom. He dies within a week. You return to us as a hero.”

Marina swallowed. “And if they are innocent?”

Moonseer’s smile was thin and cruel. “Then you poison him anyway. Bloodfang’s strength is the only thing standing between us and total collapse. Their territory is rich in untainted land and game. We need it. Weakening their Alpha creates the opening we require.”

The words settled over Marina like ice water.

She had expected ruthlessness. She had not expected the complete absence of honor.

“So regardless of the truth,” she said slowly, “Silvain dies. And I became his murderer.”

“You become useful,” Moonseer corrected. “For the first time in your life, your hybrid curse will serve Silvermoon instead of tainting it. Succeed, and Cian will be released. Fail, or refuse…” She let the threat linger in the air.

Marina stared at the bloodstains on the stone table. This was it. The moment she had always feared. Silvermoon had never been her home. It had been a cage with pretty moonlight bars. Ragnar had never loved her. The Council had never valued her. She was simply a weapon they had sharpened for years and were finally ready to throw.

Her shadow magic whispered dark suggestions — slipping through the shadows, slitting Moonseer’s throat, stealing Cian and running. But she knew better. The Council’s wards were too strong, and Cian would pay the price.

“I accept,” she said, the words tasted like ash.

Moonseer nodded once, satisfied. “Good. You leave at dawn. Your belongings have already been prepared. One shadow courier pouch. Enough venom for one Alpha. And Marina…” The elder’s voice dropped. “Do not grow sentimental. Alpha Silvain is not your mate. He is a target. Use that body of yours the way you used it for Ragnar. Open your legs, open his secrets, then end him.”

The crude words struck Marina like a slap. Heat burned her cheeks ,shame and rage twisting together.

She bowed stiffly and turned to leave.

As the heavy doors of the Grand Hollow closed behind her, the weight of the mission crushed down on her shoulders. Seduce. Spy. Murder. All to save the only family she had left.

Night had fallen by the time she reached her small, sparse quarters on the edge of the territory. The room felt colder than usual. Her bed — the same one where Ragnar had taken her countless times — now seemed like a stranger’s. She could still remember the way he’d grip her hips from behind, thrusting deep and relentless, grunting her title instead of her name. “Shadow.” “Hybrid.” Never Marina.

She stripped off her bloodstained tunic and stood before the cracked mirror. The new scar on her shoulder was an ugly, raised brand where the bond mark had been. Her body was still toned from years of training, curves that had once drawn Ragnar’s rare hunger. Breasts full, waist narrow, hips wide enough to drive an Alpha to distraction. She traced the scar with trembling fingers and wondered if Alpha Silvain would be any different.

Would he be cruel? Gentle? Would he see her as a warm body or something more?

She shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. He would die either way.

A soft knock sounded at her door.

Marina froze. She hadn’t summoned anyone. Her shadow magic flared instinctively, coiling around her fingers like black smoke.

She opened the door.

Ragnar stood there, filling the doorway with his powerful frame. His amber eyes swept over her bare shoulders and the thin shift she wore, lingering on the swell of her breasts before rising to her face. For a moment, something almost like regret flickered across his features. Then it was gone.

“You accepted,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Marina stepped back, letting him enter. The door clicked shut behind him.

“They have Cian,” she whispered.

Ragnar nodded. “It was necessary. You work better with clear motivation.”

She laughed bitterly. “Necessary. Like bonding me for three years was necessary? Like fucking me whenever you needed release was necessary?”

He moved closer, towering over her. His scent — pine, musk, and raw power — filled the small room. One large hand came up, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. The touch was almost gentle.

“I gave you purpose,” he murmured. “And pleasure, when I could.”

Marina’s body betrayed her with a traitorous flicker of heat between her thighs. Old habits. Old conditioning.

Ragnar’s voice dropped lower. “This mission… Silvain is dangerous. Stronger than he looks. If you survive him long enough to complete it, perhaps when you return…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Marina looked up at the man who had ruined her, and for the first time, she felt nothing but cold clarity.

“Get out,” she said quietly.

Ragnar studied her for a long moment, then turned toward the door. As his hand touched the latch, he paused.

“One more thing,” he said without looking back. “The Council doesn’t know everything about the plague. Be careful what you believe.”

The door closed behind him.

Marina stood alone in the silence, heart pounding. She walked to her small desk and found a folded note that had not been there earlier. Shadow courier magic lingered on the paper.

She opened it with shaking fingers.

Don’t trust the Council’s version of the plague.

The handwriting was unfamiliar.

Marina stared at the message, the impossible mission weighing heavier than ever. Somewhere out there, Alpha Silvain of Bloodfang waited — a man she was ordered to seduce, betray, and kill.

And now, someone else was watching.