Chapter 3: Chains of Duty

“So it is decided then?”

Darius’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like steel sheathed in velvet. His amber eyes glinted in the firelight of the council hall, daring me to defy him.

For a long moment, I said nothing. The hall was silent but for the crackle of the torches lining the stone walls. My warriors stood behind me, tense shadows in the flickering light. Stormclaw wolves filled the other side of the chamber, their gazes sharp, their distrust palpable.

This was not peace. This was theater. And I hated every second of it.

“Agreed,” I said at last, the word like ash on my tongue.

The tension in the room broke with a ripple of murmurs. Stormclaws straightened, some with surprise, others with smug satisfaction. Behind me, I felt Ronan’s fury like a storm barely contained. He would have words for me later. Harsh ones.

But right now, all I cared about was the way Darius leaned back in his chair, smiling like a man who had just won.

“Good,” he said. “Then allow me to present her to you. Lyra.”

At his signal, a figure stepped forward from the shadows of the hall.

She moved with the grace of someone who had been taught to be watched. Tall, poised, with long raven hair cascading over her shoulders and eyes as bright as molten gold. Her dress shimmered deep crimson, clinging to her curves, chosen not by accident but with purpose: a statement, a challenge, a reminder that she was not just a pawn, but a weapon in her father’s hand.

She stopped in front of me, lifting her chin, her gaze meeting mine without flinching.

So this was Lyra Stormclaw.

“My Alpha,” she said softly, her voice like velvet, though her eyes held steel.

I studied her in silence. Beautiful, yes. Striking. But beauty meant nothing to me. Not when I could see the hunger beneath her composure. She wanted this union—not for peace, not for unity, but for power.

And perhaps that was why Darius thought we matched.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t fall to my knees,” I said, my tone flat. “I’m not a man who’s easily impressed.”

Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Nor am I a woman who tries to impress.”

Interesting.

Darius’s booming laugh filled the hall. “I told you, Kael. She has fire. She will not bow easily, not even to you. Perhaps that will make the union… entertaining.”

I didn’t look at him. My gaze stayed locked on Lyra’s.

“This is not a union for entertainment,” I said coldly. “This is survival. A pact sealed in blood. Nothing more.”

For the briefest flicker, her eyes hardened. But just as quickly, she masked it with a demure tilt of her head. “As you say, Alpha.”

I knew what she was doing. Testing me. Measuring the boundaries of the cage we were both about to step into.

I hated it already.

The formalities ended soon after, with both packs acknowledging the pact. Darius, smug as ever, declared a feast to celebrate the “dawn of peace.” I had no appetite for such charades.

But before I could leave, Lyra caught my arm, her grip surprisingly firm. “A word, Alpha,” she murmured.

Reluctantly, I followed her out of the hall, down a corridor lined with torches until we stood in the open night air. The forest stretched beyond us, the moon watching silently.

“You don’t want this any more than I do,” she said bluntly, her golden eyes gleaming.

Finally, honesty.

“No,” I said. “I don’t.”

“Then why agree?”

I turned my gaze to the trees. “Because my people bleed every moon. Because your father knows I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. Even if it means chaining myself to you.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. “At least you’re honest. Most men would pretend.”

I studied her again, really looked this time. She was beautiful, yes, but not fragile. There was sharpness to her, a hunger that mirrored my own in ways I despised.

“Understand this,” I said, stepping closer, my voice low. “This union is politics, not love. Do not expect affection. Do not mistake duty for desire.”

Her smile returned, thin and dangerous. “Good. Because desire is messy. And I prefer control.”

When I returned to my quarters later that night, Ronan was already there, pacing like a caged animal. His fists were clenched, his dark hair falling into his eyes. When he turned to face me, his jaw was tight with barely restrained fury.

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” he spat.

I didn’t bother pretending I didn’t know what he meant. My Beta had always been blunt, and tonight was no different.

“Careful, Ronan,” I warned, shrugging off my cloak and tossing it over the chair. “You forget who you’re speaking to.”

His eyes flashed, but he didn’t back down. He never did. “I’m speaking to my Alpha—the same one who swore he’d never kneel to Darius Stormclaw, never bow, never give him a single victory. And yet tonight, you gave him everything.”

I poured myself a drink, the amber liquid burning as it slid down my throat. “I gave him nothing.”

“Nothing?” Ronan’s voice rose, echoing off the walls. “You agreed to marry his daughter. You agreed to bind Shadowfang blood with his. That is everything!”

I turned on him, my temper sparking. “You think I don’t know that? You think this doesn’t eat at me like acid in my gut?”

For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Ronan’s expression softened just enough for the loyalty beneath his anger to show. “Then why, Kael? Tell me why you did it.”

I dragged a hand down my face, suddenly exhausted. “Because our people are dying, Ronan. Every moon, we bury more sons, more brothers. How many graves do we have to dig before you understand? This war has bled us dry.”

Ronan’s eyes flickered with pain, but he shook his head stubbornly. “Better to bleed than to surrender.”

“This isn’t surrender,” I growled. “This is survival. And survival always comes first.”

His mouth pressed into a hard line. “At what cost?”

I turned away, my gaze drawn to the window. Outside, the night stretched endless and black, the forest whispering secrets I couldn’t quite hear.

“The cost of my freedom,” I said quietly.

Ronan didn’t reply right away. When he did, his voice was rough. “And Lyra? Do you trust her?”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Trust? No. But I don’t need to trust her. I need her chained to me, bound in name so her father thinks he’s won. That’s all.”

For a long moment, I stood staring into the flames, lost in the ghosts of memory.

I remembered the battlefield—mud slick with blood, the stench of iron thick in the air. I remembered Stormclaw warriors cutting down my men, Darius’s laughter carrying across the carnage. I remembered the sound of my brother’s last breath, the sight of my mother’s body broken on the stones.

The war had taken everything from me. And still, it wasn’t enough.

If I had to sacrifice myself to end it, so be it. But I would never tell Ronan that truth.

When I finally turned back, Ronan was watching me, his anger tempered by something heavier: sorrow.

“You’ve carried this war on your shoulders for too long,” he said softly. “But you’re not alone, Kael. You have me. You have your pack. Don’t lock us out.”

The sincerity in his voice hit harder than any blade. For a moment, the mask of Alpha, the armor I wore every waking moment, nearly cracked.

Nearly.

I set my glass down with deliberate calm. “Go get some rest, Ronan. Tomorrow, we begin planning the ceremony.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded. He knew when I’d drawn the line.

At the door, he paused, his hand on the handle. “Just remember, Kael. Chains don’t break easily. Make sure the ones you wear don’t choke you first.”

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with the firelight and the shadows.

I sank into the chair, running a hand through my hair. The weight of the day pressed down on me until I felt it in my bones.

A marriage pact. Lyra Stormclaw. The end of centuries of bloodshed—if it held.

But I knew Darius. He never played fair. This was just the beginning of another game.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. For the first time in years, I felt… trapped. Not by war. Not by blood. But by duty.

And then I heard it.

A sound, faint but clear, carried on the wind.

A howl.

Not from my warriors, not from Stormclaw scouts lurking in the forest. This was different.

Low. Haunting. Calling.

It thrummed in my chest, echoing in a place I didn’t know existed. For the briefest moment, heat coiled in my veins, sharp and primal, as if something deep inside me recognized it.

My eyes snapped open.

The night outside was silent once more.

But the echo of that call lingered, unsettling and electric.

I didn’t know it then, but that was the first thread pulling me toward her.

Toward the girl who would unravel everything.