Chapter 5 : The Blood on the Blade

“No.”  

The word left Lyra’s lips instantly.  

Sharp.  

Terrified.  

Impossible.  

Kael’s gaze slowly lifted from the blade to her face.  

And the look in his eyes almost destroyed her.  

Not rage.  

Not hatred.  

Disappointment.  

Like some part of him had desperately wanted her innocent, and now that part was dying.  

Damon stepped forward carefully, his face pale under the flickering torchlight. “The healer confirmed it an hour ago.”  

Lyra shook her head violently, the motion making her vision swim. “I never touched that blade.”  

“But your blood was on it,” Kael said quietly.  

The silence after those words felt deadly. It pressed against her chest, suffocating.  

Lyra’s chest tightened painfully.  

Someone was framing her.  

Again.  

But this time—  

The evidence looked undeniable.  

Kael stared at her for a long moment before speaking, his voice low enough that only she could hear.  

“Tell me the truth.”  

“I AM telling you the truth!”  

Her voice cracked, raw with desperation.  

His jaw tightened.  

“You expect me to believe this is another coincidence?”  

“Yes!”  

“Enough!”

 

His roar shook the room violently, rattling the cracked glass in the broken windows.  

Lyra flinched instinctively, her body remembering the rejection, the public humiliation, the pain.  

Kael noticed.  

And for the briefest second—  

Regret flashed across his face.  

Then disappeared, buried under fury and betrayal.  

“You lied about the pregnancy,” he growled. “You hid secrets about your past. Strange men are hunting you. My brother dies, and somehow your blood ends up on his weapon.”  

He stepped closer slowly, each step deliberate.  

“So tell me, Lyra…”  

Danger filled his voice, low and lethal.  

“What exactly are you?”  

The question shattered something inside her.  

Because she didn’t fully know anymore.  

The glowing eyes.  

The pendant that burned against her skin.  

The whispers in her head that sounded like her mother and something older.  

Her mother’s warnings whispered on her deathbed: _Never let them discover what you are._  

_Not a wolf._  

Fear wrapped around her throat, squeezing.  

“I don’t know,” she whispered honestly.  

Kael went still.  

And somehow—  

That answer disturbed him more than a lie would have.  

Before he could speak again, a loud scream echoed outside the castle.  

Raw.  

Human.  

Then another, cut short.  

Damon rushed toward the balcony instantly, his hand on his sword.  

“Alpha…”  

Something in his tone made both of them move.  

Kael reached the balcony first, his body a wall of coiled violence.  

Lyra followed beside him—  

And froze.  

The eastern courtyard was covered in bodies.  

Blood stained the snow a violent red, steaming in the cold night air.  

Pack warriors lay dead everywhere with their throats ripped open brutally, eyes wide in shock.  

But that wasn’t the worst part.  

Every corpse had the same symbol carved into their skin.  

The mark from Lyra’s pendant.  

A circle broken by three claw marks, precise and deliberate.  

Kael’s expression darkened murderously.  

“This isn’t a rogue attack,” Damon whispered, his voice barely audible.  

“No,” Kael agreed coldly.  

His eyes shifted toward Lyra slowly, assessing, dangerous.  

“It’s a message.”  

Fear crawled through her body, cold and certain.  

For her.  

Someone was slaughtering wolves because of her.  

Suddenly, movement appeared below.  

A surviving warrior stumbled through the courtyard covered in blood, his armor hanging in tatters. He collapsed to his knees in the snow, gasping.  

“The southern gate…” he gasped. “They breached the walls…”  

Kael’s aura exploded instantly, a wave of killing intent that made the surviving wolves drop to their knees.  

“How many?”  

The warrior’s face turned white, bloodless.  

“Only one.”  

Silence.  

Kael frowned darkly. “One man did this?”  

The warrior nodded shakily, tears mixing with blood on his face.  

“He slaughtered everyone.”  

Then—  

Heavy footsteps echoed through the courtyard below.  

Slow.  

Deliberate.  

Each step made the snow crunch like a countdown.  

Every wolf still alive immediately backed away in terror, giving ground without being told.  

A man stepped through the blood-covered snow wearing a long black coat that drank the moonlight.  

Tall.  

Broad.  

Beautiful in a terrifying way, like a blade carved from ice.  

Silver hair fell past his shoulders, untouched by the blood around him.  

Golden eyes gleamed, inhuman and ancient.  

And power so monstrous the air itself felt heavy, pressing down on Lyra’s chest until she couldn’t breathe.  

Lyra stopped breathing.  

Because she knew him.  

Or rather—  

Her wolf did.  

Something deep and primal inside her cowered and whimpered, recognizing a predator older than her bloodline.  

The stranger slowly looked up toward the balcony.  

Directly at her.  

Then he smiled.  

Dangerously.  

“There you are, little moon.”  

Kael instantly stepped in front of Lyra possessively, shielding her with his body. His claws extended with a soft snick.  

The stranger noticed.  

Amusement flickered across his face.  

“So protective,” he murmured.  

Kael’s voice turned lethal, each word edged with frost. “Who are you?”  

The man ignored the question.  

His golden eyes remained locked on Lyra with unsettling familiarity, like he’d known her all her life.  

“She has his eyes,” he said softly.  

Lyra’s blood ran cold.  

No.  

Impossible.  

The stranger finally looked at Kael.  

And the smile on his face vanished completely.

“You rejected her before the awakening.”  

Silence.  

Then the man laughed quietly, the sound devoid of humor.  

“Gods… you truly are a fool.”  

Kael’s claws extended instantly, tearing through his own palms.

 

“Say another word.”  

The stranger’s gaze darkened, and the air grew colder.  

“You have no idea what’s growing inside her, do you?”  

Lyra felt sick.  

Her hand drifted to her stomach instinctively.  

Kael moved slightly in front of her again.  

Possessive.  

Protective.

 

Furious.  

The silver-haired man noticed every detail, storing it away like a hunter cataloging prey.  

Then his expression became cold, calculating.  

“Interesting.”  

Kael’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Leave my pack alive while you still can.”  

The stranger tilted his head slightly, studying Kael like he was a problem to be solved.  

“Your pack?”  

His eyes slowly shifted toward Lyra’s stomach.  

Then back to Kael.  

“You still think she belongs to you.”  

Kael didn’t answer.  

Because the terrifying truth was obvious.  

He did.  

Even after rejecting her.  

Even after believing she betrayed him.  

The bond between them had become something darker now.  

Something obsessive.

 

Something that refused to let go.  

The stranger smiled again, slow and cruel.  

Then said the one thing no one expected.  

“If you want the truth about your brother’s death…”

 

His golden eyes locked onto Lyra, pinning her in place.

 

“…ask your mate why she was the last person seen with him alive.”  

The words hit like a physical blow.  

Lyra’s legs almost gave out.  

“What?”  

Her voice was barely a whisper.  

Kael’s head snapped toward her, fury and shock warring in his expression.  

“What did you just say?”  

The stranger stepped forward, uncaring that fifty wolves had their weapons trained on him.  

“Your brother found her at the border that night,” he said smoothly, conversationally, like he was discussing the weather. “She was bleeding. He was trying to help her.”  

He paused, letting the implication sink in.  

“And then he died.”  

“Liar,” Kael growled, but his voice lacked its usual certainty.  

Lyra shook her head violently. “I never saw him! I was in the healer’s wing!”  

“Were you?” The stranger tilted his head. “The patrol logs say otherwise.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Where are these logs?”  

“Burned,” the stranger said simply. “Along with the witnesses.”

Damon cursed under his breath.  

Lyra’s mind raced, pieces clicking into place that she didn’t want to see. The missing hours that night. The blood on her dress she couldn’t explain. Her mother’s warnings.  

No.  

It couldn’t be.  

Kael turned to her slowly, his expression unreadable.  

“Were you at the border that night?”  

Lyra opened her mouth, but no sound came out.  

The stranger smiled, satisfied.  

“Tick tock, Alpha. How long before your wolf decides she’s more dangerous than useful?”  

Kael’s aura flared, and the stranger’s smile widened.  

“Enough,” Lyra said suddenly, her voice stronger than she felt. She stepped out from behind Kael, ignoring his warning growl.  

“If you know something, say it. Stop playing games.”  

The stranger’s golden eyes gleamed with approval.

 

“Brave. Just like your mother.”  

He paused.

 

“She died braver than you’ll ever have to.”  

Rage and grief hit Lyra at the same time, a double-edged blade.  

Before she could respond, the stranger’s expression hardened.  

“The Blood Moon isn’t just a ceremony, girl. It’s a key. And you’re turning it.”  

He glanced at Kael.  

“When she finishes awakening, she won’t be a wolf anymore. She’ll be something else. Something your pack will fear more than me.”  

Kael’s jaw clenched.

 

“And what are you?” he asked.  

The stranger’s smile returned, sharp and predatory.  

“Her uncle.”  

Silence.  

Lyra felt like the ground had dropped out from under her.  

Uncle?  

Her mother had no brothers.  

“Liar,” she whispered.  

The stranger’s eyes softened for half a second, something almost like grief flashing through them.  

“Ask your mother’s pendant who gave it to her.”  

He stepped back, and the wolves around him tensed, ready to strike.  

But he didn’t run.  

Instead, he looked at Kael one last time.  

“Kill her now, and you might save your pack. Keep her, and you’ll start a war that will drown the north in blood.”  

His gaze flicked to Lyra’s stomach.  

“And it will be her child that finishes it.”  

With that, he turned and walked away into the darkness, his footsteps silent on the blood-soaked snow.  

No one moved to stop him.  

Kael didn’t speak for a long time.  

When he finally did, his voice was quiet, dangerous, and meant only for her.  

“Is it true?”  

Lyra swallowed hard.  

“I don’t know.”  

Kael closed his eyes for a brief second, like the answer physically hurt him.  

When he opened them, the possessive, furious, desperate man was back.  

“Find out,” he said.  

“And pray I like the answer.”  

Behind them, the bodies in the courtyard seemed to watch, their carved symbols glinting in the moonlight.  

And somewhere in the distance, the howl came again.  

Older.  

Hungrier.  

Closer.