Chapter 8

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SHADOWS IN THE MANSION

Liana’s breath hitched as darkness swallowed the candlelight. The library was cavernous, its shelves rising like silent sentinels. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

Something is here.

She held her breath, listening. The softest step—barely more than a whisper—echoed on the marble floor.

She rose, her senses taut as wire.

“Kael?” she whispered. No answer.

The stillness pressed in, heavy as fog. She felt her heartbeat slow, chest tight, as the presence drifted past her shoulder. Not human. Not Kael. Something colder.

She turned—and froze.

A shimmer in the corner of her vision: a shadow detached from light, too dark in shape, too fluid to belong. Then gone.

“Show yourself,” she whispered, voice betraying none of her fear.

Silence answered.

She swallowed and reached for the only weapon she had—her wits. Don’t run. Don’t panic.

Footsteps—the distant echo of boots, but hollow, as if from a memory. She followed the sound along the stacks.

“Kael?”

The corridor stretched before her. One hall led deeper into the mansion—north wing, servant rooms, old stonework, places she hadn’t been.

Her foot caught. She looked down: a silver token lay at her feet. A wolf’s head engraved on a metal coin, beside a drop of dark red blood.

Her heart jolted. That’s not hers. Located?

She picked it up. Frost kissed her fingers.

Then footsteps. Closer. Too close.

She ducked behind a shelf. Her heart thundered. Please be Kael.

Instead, a tall silhouette passed—broad shoulders, gloved hands. A guard. He paused, knelt to inspect the coin, frowned, and pocketed it. Then he walked away, oblivious to Liana.

She exhaled.

It wasn’t Kael—but it wasn’t safe either.

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Downstairs, Kael stood in the foyer, gazing across the empty hall with a predator’s attention. He smelled the foreign presence—an intruder. Not a rogue, not a pack element.

He heard Sierra’s warning echo: Something wrong has entered the house.

He raced through corridors, muscles tensed, senses flaring. His connection to the bond spiked—with Liana somewhere in this labyrinth.

He smelled her—fear, candle smoke, faint shiver of another’s presence. He turned a corner—and found her.

She held something small and metallic.

He closed the distance in two strides. “What is that?”

She startled, dropping the coin. It tumbled, metal clinking against marble.

He picked it up, his silver eyes flickering. “Not one of mine.”

Her gaze met his. “It’s not human.”

He scanned the corridors. “Stay close.”

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He led her into the library, the front doors closed, guards stationed.

“Someone is here,” he whispered, voice low.

She nodded. “I saw something.”

“Something always slips through the wards,” he growled. “If they came here, they knew me.”

Shock and something darker touched her gut. “Who?”

He gave no answer. Instead, he reached for a mounted torch and relit the fireplace, oil spilling on granite. Flames caught instantly, filling the room with light.

He stood between her and the shadows. “Stay behind me.”

She did.

He looked at her, eyes softening. “Are you afraid?”

“I am,” she whispered truthfully.

“It’s okay.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t move away.

“Drink,” he said, reaching for a goblet of wine long since turned cold.

She refused.

He shrugged and brought her water instead—his ice against her flame. She drank. Then he took the goblet and pressed it to his lips, calm and controlled.

Moments passed.

The fire crackled.

Then—they both smelled it: metallic. Acidic. Fear, fresh blood from conflict.

He stiffened.

“Go to the door,” he ordered quietly.

She obeyed.

A soft leakage of light under the old oak door.

Kael set the goblet aside and drew Liana in close.

“Stay calm.”

He pulled her cloak from a rack and draped it over her shoulders. She fixed her gaze on his back as he approached the door.

He cracked it slightly.

On the stone floor lay the silver coin.

Blood.

His teeth clenched.

“Stay.”

He pushed the door open fully.

An empty hallway.

His lips curved with anger.

---

They spent the night on guard.

Kael summoned two loyal guards, had the mansion searched, and posted watchers.

He stayed by her side, never letting go of her hand—a silent promise: I won’t let you go.

Liana drifted between panic and exhaustion as the hours passed.

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Morning came with pale light.

Kael led her down to the hidden training room: ancient stone walls, weapons racks, werewolf forms, Armament—Kael’s sanctuary.

He broke a large chest open and pulled out a wolf-hide cloak, draped it over her. “Protection.”

She looked at him. “I’m not going into your rituals.”

His silver eyes softened. “You’re not just prisoner or pawn, Liana. You’re marked. You carry pack blood. That makes you part of this.”

She forced herself to stand tall.

“I’m not part of anything I didn’t choose.”

He nodded.

“You deserve choice.”

He held her gaze. “You will have one. Soon.”

He led her deeper into the training hall. Wooden dummies lined the walls. Weapons—daggers, swords, stakes—emblematic of the old wars.

At the far corner, Sierra sat quietly on a raised dais, her eyes closed.

“When you’re ready,” Kael said.

Sierra opened her eyes—lavender pools as deep as night.

“About time,” she murmured.

Liana swallowed.

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