ログインThe moment Cameron stepped into the archive, the entire room changed. Even my wolf felt it. The pressure of an Alpha rolled through the broken shelves and scattered files like a storm front. Heavy. Controlled. Ancient in a way power rarely was anymore.Elias froze. Not for long. But long enough for me to notice. His body had moved with relentless precision since the moment he broke. Every reaction immediate. Violent. Programmed.Now there was hesitation. Small. But there.Cameron noticed it too. Of course he did. His gaze swept over the room once - Mara against the wall trying to catch her breath, me still in wolf form between Elias and everyone else, overturned shelves scattered across the floor. Then his attention settled fully on Elias. And stayed there.Elias twitched violently. Like something inside him had just received conflicting orders. “Command presence identified,” he said. The mechanical tone was back. But weaker now. Strained.Cameron stepped forward slowly. Not threaten
Clara POV “Command recognized.”The voice that came from Elias wasn’t his anymore. It was smooth. Flat. Too precise. Like it had been carved out of him and replaced with something that didn’t breathe.Mara took a step back. “Clara… that’s not him.”“I know,” I said. But it was still his body. And that was the problem. “Elias,” I said sharply. “Stop.”His head tilted slightly, as if evaluating me. Not seeing me. Processing me. Like I was part of a problem he was trying to classify.Then something inside him snapped. It wasn’t loud. Just… wrong. His fingers twitched violently at his sides. Once. Twice. Like two instructions fighting for control of the same muscle.“Elias!” Mara raised her voice.That was the mistake. His attention shifted instantly. And the restraint vanished. He moved too fast toward her. Mara barely had time to step back before he was on her.“NO!”I moved on instinct, but I was still human. Too slow.Elias grabbed Mara by the arm and slammed her into the metal shelv
The restricted section of archives is colder. Not metaphorically. Actually colder. The air here doesn’t move. It sits heavy, stale, like it hasn’t been disturbed in years.Mara doesn’t joke anymore. Good. Neither do I.The back wall is reinforced steel. Old locking system. Mechanical, not digital.“That’s… excessive,” Mara mutters.“For records?” I run my fingers along the edge of the door. “Yes. For secrets?” She glances at me. “No.”She exhales slowly. “Give me a second.”I step back, letting her work. My wolf doesn’t like this place. Not because it’s dangerous. - It's just archives. - Because it feels… wrong. Like something here survived things that shouldn’t have. Like a horriffic crime scene.Metal clicks softly under Mara’s hands. A pause. Then - thunk. The lock gives up.We exchange a look. And then we go in.The room inside is smaller. More organized. Metal cabinets line the walls, each one labeled with clean, precise tags."TRAINING COMMAND - EASTERN SECTOR" "PERSONNEL FILES
The training yard is loud. Steel striking steel. Boots grinding into packed dirt. Warriors shouting corrections across the field.Blackridge breathes war.I cross the courtyard with Tomas Voss’s photograph folded carefully in my pocket and a knot in my stomach that refuses to loosen.The elders’ visit keeps replaying in my head. Choose wisely. The words sounded like advice. But they felt like a threat.The commander’s building stands at the far edge of the yard, dark stone and heavy glass overlooking everything like a watchtower. Fitting.Cameron never liked being watched. But he always watches.As I climb the steps toward the entrance, voices drift through the slightly open door. Sharp voices. Older voices. - Council. They were quick. I must admit that. I slow instinctively.“…reckless,” someone is saying. That voice belongs to Counselor Dane. I recognize the gravelly tone. “This investigation will fracture alliances we’ve maintained for decades. It will ruin us.”Another voice join
I sit behind the Luna desk for a long moment, staring at the photograph she left behind. Tomas Voss smiles up at me like he has no idea what kind of pack he was born into.Sixteen.My stomach twists again.Young boys used to complain about chores at sixteen. About morning training. About curfews.They weren’t disappearing into forests.I reach for the tablet Mara set up for me earlier and open the first pack registry file.Blackridge Pack Members - Active and Historical.The list scrolls endlessly. Thousands of names. Warriors. Hunters. omegas. families.But I’m not looking for the living. I start filtering the missing. Young males. Ages fifteen to twenty. - Those transferred under Alaric’s authority.The first list appears.Thirty-two names. My fingers go cold.Thirty-two.That’s not training. That’s a purge. He was killing them with the cold blood. What a monster. And he had done it for what? More power?I sit back slowly, letting the number settle in my chest. And that’s just the
The knock comes just before noon.Not timid. Not confident either. Just… controlled.I look up from the stack of ceremony logistics I’m pretending to read. The Luna office still feels strange - too big, too polished, too official. The desk isn’t mine. The power isn’t mine yet.But the responsibility already is.“Come in.”The door opens slowly.She’s older. Late forties, maybe early fifties. Dark hair threaded heavily with gray, braided tight over one shoulder. Her posture is straight in a way that tells me she trained herself not to fold.But her eyes.. Her eyes are exhausted.“Luna.” she says.I stand immediately. “Please. You don’t have to-”“I do.” she interrupts softly.Her wolf brushes against mine. Not aggressive. Not submissive. - Grieving.She steps inside and closes the door behind her. The click echoes.“May I sit?”“Of course.”She lowers herself carefully into the chair across from my desk. Hands folded in her lap. Knuckles white.“I won’t take much of your time.”Someth
Cameron leaned in, voice low enough only I could hear.“Calm down my love. He’s not the danger,” he said. “He’s the messenger.”My heart thudded. “For what?”His jaw tightened.“For the part of Blackridge that doesn’t announce itself.”I lifted my chin, posture snapping into place - not the girl fr
I saw her.A pause in the room’s rhythm. A misstep in the music. Someone who didn’t belong to Blackridge’s choreography, but wasn’t Vale either.I let my gaze drift, lazy, unfocused.Near the west windows. In half-shadow. Champagne flute untouched. She stood alone, which at a summit like this was e
The doors didn’t slam shut. That was the problem.They soft-closed - quiet, coordinated, subtle enough that half the room didn’t notice. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn just a fraction closer to the walls. Security shifted positions with the casual precision of men who had done this before and exp
Oh. Perfect.Fate, apparently, had jokes. And a cruel sense of timing.Adrian stood near the far wall, half-turned toward a cluster of council affiliates. Tailored suit. Dark hair combed back with deliberate care. A glass of champagne held loosely, as if he didn’t need it.He looked exactly the sam







