Chapter 2: The Last Blood Heir (Kira POV)

The Silvercrest compound looked like a fortress pretending to be a corporate headquarters. Thirty floors of gleaming glass and steel in the heart of the Spire district, where property values started at "obscene" and climbed from there. The bottom fifteen floors housed legitimate businesses, Silvercrest Holdings owned half the development projects in Callahan City. The top fifteen floors were pack territory, closed to humans and wolves alike without explicit permission.

They took me to the top floor.

The elevator ride felt like ascending to my own execution. The female enforcer, she'd introduced herself as Cassidy, head of security, kept her hand on my shoulder the entire way up. Not painfully, but firm enough that I couldn't mistake it for anything but a restraint.

"Nervous?" she asked, and I couldn't tell if it was mockery or actual curiosity.

"Terrified," I answered honestly. No point in lying when they could smell the fear sweat beading on my skin.

"Good. You should be. Alpha Silvercrest doesn't tolerate threats to his pack, and right now, you're a walking question mark that was found at his nephew's murder scene."

"I didn't kill him."

"Maybe not. But you did something to him. I saw your hands, girl. That wasn't normal, even for us."

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened onto a space that looked like it had been designed by someone with too much money and a subscription to Architectural Digest. 

Minimalist furniture in shades of white and gray. Abstract art that probably cost more than I'd earn in a lifetime.

And in the center of it all, behind a desk made of a single piece of black marble, sat Alpha Dominic Silvercrest.

I'd seen pictures, of course. Everyone in Callahan City knew what the Alphas looked like, Silvercrest, Kastor, Nightbreeze. The three powers that ran the supernatural underbelly of the city while humans went about their lives oblivious to the predators walking among them. But pictures didn't capture the presence.

Dominic Silvercrest looked like he was in his forties, though I knew from whispered stories that he was closer to ninety. Dark hair going silver at the temples, sharp features, eyes the color of winter ice. He wore a three-piece suit like it was armor, and when his gaze fixed on me, my wolf whimpered and tried to make herself small.

"Uncuff her," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

Cassidy hesitated. "Alpha, she's…"

"I'm aware of what she is, Cassidy. Uncuff her."

The zip-ties came off, leaving angry red welts on my wrists. I resisted the urge to rub them, keeping my hands at my sides, trying to project a calm I absolutely didn't feel.

Dominic stood, rounding the desk to stand directly in front of me. He was tall, over six feet, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. That was a mistake. Meeting an Alpha's gaze directly was a challenge, an act of disrespect that could get your throat ripped out.

But I couldn't look away.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Kira Volkov." My voice came out steadier than I expected.

"And what pack are you affiliated with, Kira Volkov?"

"None."

"Rogue, then." He said it matter-of-factly, like he was commenting on the weather. "Do you know what we do to rogues in this city?"

"Kill them." No point in pretending otherwise.

"Usually, yes. The treaty between the three packs is very clear: any wolf without pack allegiance is to be eliminated on sight. A wolf without a pack is a wolf without balance. Without control. They're dangerous."

"I'm not dangerous," I said, then realized how stupid that sounded given the circumstances.

Something that might have been amusement flickered across his face. "No? Then tell me what happened this morning. Tell me what you did to my nephew."

"Your…" The words stuck in my throat. "Adrian Sorenson was your nephew?"

"My brother's son. A promising young wolf with his whole life ahead of him. And now he's dead, and you were found crouched over his body with your hands…" He paused. "…doing something I haven't seen in fifty years."

My mouth went dry. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar." The word cracked like a whip, and the temperature in the room dropped. "I can smell the lie on you, girl. And more than that, I can smell what you are. Cassidy was right to bring you here instead of executing you in that alley. Because you're not just a rogue. You're something we thought was extinct."

He circled me slowly, predator examining prey. My wolf was going insane inside me, caught between the urge to submit to the obvious Alpha and the need to fight for survival.

"When Cassidy called and described what she'd seen, your hands glowing, Adrian's eyes flashing post-mortem, I had to see for myself. Had to confirm it was possible." He stopped in front of me again, close enough that I could smell cedar and smoke. "You're a Blood Heir, aren't you?"

The term meant nothing to me, but the way he said it made ice crawl down my spine.

"I don't know what that is."

"Truly?" He tilted his head, studying me. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And where are your parents?"

"I don't know. I was found in the Ruins when I was six. Foster system since then."

For the first time, something like surprise crossed his face. "You've been alone this entire time? No pack, no family, no one to teach you control?"

"I control myself just fine."

He reached out, and I flinched backward, but he was faster. His hand closed around my wrist, thumb pressing against the pulse point. "Your heart is racing. Your wolf is clawing at your skin, begging to be let out. You're terrified and angry and desperately trying to appear calm. That's not control, Kira. That's repression."

I yanked my arm away, and surprisingly, he let me. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth. Did you kill Adrian Sorenson?"

"No."

He studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to hold his gaze. "I believe you," he said finally, and relief flooded through me so intensely I almost staggered.

Then he continued, and the relief turned to ash.

"But someone did. Someone drained his essence, stole his wolf, and left him as a warning. This is the fourth such murder in two years, and each victim has been a high-ranking member of pack families. Someone is hunting us, Kira. And right now, you're the only lead we have."

"I didn't see anything. I just found him."

"But you touched him. You used your ability, whether you meant to or not. A Blood Heir can read the last moments of a wolf's death, can see what they saw, feel what they felt. It's in your blood, your bones. You might not know how to access it consciously, but it's there."

I shook my head, backing away. "No. I don't…I can't…"

"You can." His voice gentled slightly. "And you will. Because otherwise, I have no choice but to execute you. You're a rogue on my territory, found at a murder scene, exhibiting abilities that make you an inherent threat to pack stability. By pack law, your life is forfeit. Unless..."

There it was. The trap closing around me.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you prove your usefulness. Unless you help me find who's killing my wolves." He moved back to his desk, pressing a button on the intercom. "Send him in."

The door opened, and my heart stopped.

The boy who walked in looked like he'd been carved from the same ice as his father's eyes. Tall, lean, wearing designer jeans and a black sweater that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Dark hair perfectly styled, sharp features set in an expression of bored contempt. But it was his eyes that caught me—pale blue, almost silver, and when they landed on me, they went flat and cold.

"Father," he said, his voice smooth and cultured. "You summoned me?"

"Dante, this is Kira Volkov. She's going to be your new guardian."

The boy, Dante went very still. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. Dangerous. "My what?"

"Your guardian. Kira here is a Blood Heir, and as such, she has certain abilities that make her ideally suited to keeping you alive. Given that three of your previous guardians have died in the last two years, I thought it prudent to try something different."

"A rogue." Dante's lip curled. "You're assigning me a rogue guardian. Do you have any idea how that will look to the pack? To the other families?"

"I'm aware of the politics, son. I'm also aware that someone is trying very hard to kill you before you can take your place as my heir. This rogue, as you call her, might be the only thing that keeps you alive long enough to inherit."

Dante turned to me, and the look in his eyes made my wolf bare her teeth. "I don't need a guardian. Especially not some half-trained rogue who was found at a murder scene."

"Nevertheless, you'll accept her. It's already been decided."

"Decided?" Dante's voice rose. "Without my input? Without even asking if I want…"

"This isn't about what you want," Dominic interrupted, his Alpha voice brooking no argument. "This is about keeping you alive. Three guardians dead, Dante. Three. Each one trained from childhood, each one loyal unto death. And they still couldn't protect you. Maybe what you need isn't skill. Maybe what you need is someone expendable."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Expendable. That's what I was to them. Not a person, not even really a threat. Just a tool to throw at whatever was hunting the Silvercrest heir.

I found my voice. "And if I refuse?"

Dominic smiled, and it was the smile of a shark. "Then you die. Right here, right now. Or you can accept the position, undergo the guardian bond ritual, and at least have a chance at survival. Your choice."

Some choice. Death now, or death later while being used as a shield for the most arrogant-looking wolf I'd ever seen.