C-2

“Kneel and submit to your superiors” Isolde Ashbourne sneers, stepping into my path before I can cross the stone archway of the Royal Lodge Quarter.

Her amber eyes flare with raw predator malice, her wolf itching right beneath her polished skin. The morning sun reflects off the heavy silver runes etched into the lodge’s entrance, but all I feel is the cold, sharp ache in my injured ankle. I stand my ground, shifting my weight over my full hips, refusing to let my plus-size frame diminish under her threat. I was born human, without a drop of wolf blood or a beast to protect me, but I have survived four years in the Moonfang Province on grit alone.

“Isolde, if you kneel and beg for my mercy right now, I might consider letting you keep your desk post at the lodge,” I reply, keeping my voice level, smooth, and entirely unbothered. “Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?” she snaps, her claws lengthening a fraction of an inch, digging into the velvet sleeves of her tunic. “You’re an unbonded human, Elowen Whitlock. You have no pack to shield you, no mate to avenge you, and no authority in the Silvermoon Capital. Your little half-breed pup will be the one to pay for your arrogance.”

My heart slams violently against my ribs at the mention of Briar. A dangerous, suffocating heat rises in my chest, but I force my posture to stay perfectly still.

“You can try,” I say softly, my eyes shifting to the two towering enforcers looming behind her.

Isolde’s face twists in dark amusement. She turns to the two hulking shape-shifters, their broad chests heaving with aggressive Alpha-aligned aura. “Aldric, Caius, did you hear this soft-skinned mongrel? Drag her down into the courtyard. Break her knees so I can watch her crawl.”

In this territory, bloodlines and raw physical power dictate every breath you take. Humans living within the pack borders are treated as third-class citizens at best, and disposable labor at worst. Isolde’s father, Magistrate Ashbourne, has ruled the local council of the Moonfang Province like a ruthless tyrant for over a decade, pocketing the territory’s silver reserves and enforcing strict pack dominance.

I look the two broad-shouldered enforcers in the eye, my voice laced with venom. “Isolde, didn’t your father teach you to check who owns the territory before you unleash your dogs?”

“Investigate a human?” Isolde laughs bitterly, her voice ringing across the open stone courtyard. “You’re a fatherless, packless nobody who washes linen for wolf lords.”

Without breaking eye contact, I reach into my leather satchel and pull out my communication stone, tapping the glowing blue rune etched into its center. I place it to my ear, watching her grin fade into confusion.

“I warned you yesterday, Isolde,” I say coolly. “Your father’s tyranny ends today, and you brought this down on his head.”

The stone hums to life, and a deep, authoritative voice echoes from the speaker. “Elowen? Is there a problem in the lower territory?”

I press my lips together, my breath steadying as I speak directly into the stone. “Uncle Dorian. High Magistrate Ashbourne is embezzling the Territory Treasury Guild’s funds meant for human relief and starving the outer settlements. He is using his pack guards to terrorize non-shifters. I want the Grand Alpha Tribunal to conduct a full audit of the Ashbourne Pack immediately.”

Dorian Wolfhart grunts over the connection, the sheer power in his tone vibrating through the stone. “Consider it done. Are you harmed, child?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, holding Isolde’s wild, panicked gaze. “They haven't touched me yet.”

“Keep your distance,” Dorian commands. “I am riding down from the Silvermoon Capital with the high guard tonight. Do not let those mutts push you.”

I sever the connection with a sharp flick of my thumb.

Isolde stands frozen for two seconds, her skin turning a sickly, pale white as her wolf senses process the name I just uttered. Then, desperation takes over, warping her face into a mask of rage. “You lying human bitch! You think you can fake a connection to High Alpha Dorian Wolfhart? Aldric! Caius! Kill her! Drag her into the Ironfang Works and shred her throat! I’ll take the blame with the Tribunal!”

The two enforcers hesitate, their heavy boots scraping against the gravel. They look at my calm face, then back at Isolde.

“What is your lineage name again?” Aldric asks, his sharp wolf ears twitching as doubt creeps into his tone.

“Whitlock,” I state clearly, holding my head high. “Elowen Whitlock. Didn't your lodge manager tell you?”

The two men exchange a terrified glance. “Whitlock? As in Garrick Whitlock? The high elder of the Whitlock Moonfang Dominion? The one who was just named Chief Tribune of the Northern Alliance?”

Isolde screeches in frustration, her voice cracking. “She’s bluffing! She’s been living in a tiny wooden cottage in the Frostfang Refuge for four years! If she had blood ties to the Whitlock Moonfang Pack, would she be limping around serving wine to pack visitors? She’s a fake!”

“It seems your sight is as poor as your intelligence, Ms. Ashbourne.”

The gravelly, thunderous voice cuts through the morning air like a broadsword.

Every head in the courtyard snaps toward the grand steps of the Royal Lodge Quarter.

Walking down the marble stairs is Caelan Thorncroft, his massive, broad-shouldered frame clad in dark leather and silver armor. The air around him crackles with raw, suffocating High Alpha dominance, forcing the two enforcers to drop their heads instantly, their knees trembling under the sheer pressure of his aura. Behind him walks Osric Fenwick, his face stern and expressionless as his hands rest on the hilt of his broadsword.

Caelan doesn't even glance at Isolde. His piercing gray eyes lock directly onto mine, burning with a dangerous, possessive heat that makes my breath hitch in my throat. My heart thumps frantically against my ribs, my skin flushing warm under his intense stare.

“Are you injured, Elowen?” Caelan asks, his voice deep, gravelly, and laced with suppressed rage as his gaze drops to my swollen, bandaged ankle.

I swallow down the sudden swell of emotion in my chest, tightening my jaw. “I am perfectly fine, High Alpha Thorncroft.”

Osric steps forward, his dark eyes fixed on the two shivering enforcers. “If I were you two, I would drop your weapons, return to your barracks, and start praying that the Whitlock Bloodline shows you mercy when the Tribunal arrives tonight.”

Aldric and Caius don't wait for a second warning. They bow furiously toward Caelan and sprint out of the courtyard, their wolf speed blurring their movement as they abandon Isolde without another word.

“Aldric! Caius! You coward mutts!” Isolde screams after them, her body shaking with furious humiliation. She turns her sharp gaze back onto me, her teeth bared in a snarl. “You... you seductress! You’re just using your human body to wrap powerful Alphas around your finger! First the lodge manager, now the High Alpha of the Thorncroft Dominion?”

I don't waste my breath arguing with a desperate beast. I turn on my heel, ignoring the sharp twinge in my ankle, and begin walking toward the heavy oak doors of the lodge to start my shift.

Isolde lunges forward, her sharp claws reaching out to grab my shoulder. “Don't you dare walk away from me, human!”

Before her fingers can touch my tunic, a hand shoots out with blinding speed.

Caelan grabs her wrist mid-air, his iron grip crushing her bone until she lets out a sharp, painful cry. His face is inches from hers, his eyes flashing a lethal, glowing crimson as his inner wolf roars right beneath his skin.

“Touch her again,” Caelan growls, his voice rumbling like thunder through the stone courtyard, “and I will rip your arm from your socket and feed it to the rogues in the wasteland. Get out of my sight.”

He shoves her back violently. Isolde stumbles over her tunic, falling hard onto the stone floor. She looks up at Caelan in absolute terror, realizing for the first time that her father’s status means nothing to the High Alpha of the entire territory. She scrambles up, sobbing in rage and fear, and flees down the mountain path as fast as her legs can carry her.

The courtyard falls dead silent.

I stop near the wooden entrance doors, my back turned to him. I can feel his scorching presence right behind me, his heavy scent of pine, winter frost, and dominant Alpha musk wrapping around my senses like a physical chain. My body remembers him. My heart betrays me with a sudden, violent thud against my ribs.

“You shouldn't have done that,” I say softly, keeping my voice cold and distant. “I don't need the High Alpha of the Thorncroft Dominion fighting my battles.”

“You never needed me to fight your battles, Elowen,” Caelan whispers, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his chest against my back. “You were always stronger than the wolves who tried to break you. But I will crush anyone who dares lay a hand on you in my territory.”

I turn around slowly, lifting my chin to look him straight in his dark, tormented eyes. “This isn't your business, Caelan. You signed the separation treaty four years ago. You returned my pack marks. You walked away.”

“I walked away because you were bleeding out on my stone floor!” he growls out, his hand twitching at his side, desperate to reach out and touch my face. “I walked away because every breath you took in my den was filled with pain! But I never stopped tracking your scent. I never stopped watching over you.”

“Watching over me?” I let out a bitter, quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You left me to raise a child alone in the winter cold while your elders prepared your mate bond with the Ashbourne pack. Don't speak to me of protection.”

Caelan’s jaw clenches so tight a vein bulges along his throat. Pain flashes raw and naked across his harsh features. “The mate bond was a lie orchestrated by my father. I executed the elders who forced it.”

I freeze, my eyes widening slightly at his confession.

Before I can process his words, Osric steps up the stone stairs, holding a heavy leather scroll stamped with the glowing red wax seal of the Guardian Pack Command.

“High Alpha,” Osric interrupts, his tone grave. “Emergency summons from the Silvermoon Capital. The Ravenspire Dominion has broken the border treaty. High Alpha Cedric Ravenspire’s war pack has crossed into the Moonfang Province.”

Caelan doesn't break his gaze from my face. “Let them burn.”

“They are marching directly toward the Frostfang Refuge, my Lord,” Osric adds, his voice tight. “Toward the human settlements.”

My blood runs instantly cold. Briar.

My daughter is at the academy on the edge of the Refuge right now.

I grab the front of Caelan’s heavy leather armor, my fingers digging into the steel studs as sheer terror pierces my chest. My human composure shatters in an instant.

“My daughter is in the Refuge!” I gasp, my breath coming in short, panicked ragged hitches. “Caelan, stop them!”

Caelan’s broad hand instantly wraps over mine, holding my trembling fingers tight against his chest, right over his hammering heart. His gray eyes flare with an absolute, terrifying possessiveness.

“I will rip Cedric Ravenspire’s head from his shoulders before he touches a single hair on your daughter’s head,” Caelan rasps, his grip unyielding. “But you come with me to the command lodge. You don't leave my side again, Elowen.”

He doesn't wait for my answer. He sweeps his massive arm around my waist, lifting my weight against his chest as if I weigh nothing at all, and leaps down the stone stairs into the courtyard as his war horn sounds across the mountain.