Chapter 3: Bounded To The Cold Heir (Kira POV)

I looked at Dante Silvercrest, at his cold eyes and contemptuous expression, and knew with absolute certainty that he would get me killed. Whether through negligence or intention, it didn't matter. This was a suicide mission with extra steps.

But it was also time. Time to find out who killed Adrian Sorenson. Time to understand what I was, what a Blood Heir could do. Time to uncover the gaps in my own history, because I was suddenly certain they were connected to all of this.

If I was going to die anyway, I might as well die with answers.

"Fine," I said, meeting Dante's glare with one of my own. "I'll do it."

"Excellent." Dominic pressed the intercom again. "Cassidy, prepare for a guardian bond ritual. We do this tonight."

"Tonight?" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice. "Don't I get time to…"

"Prepare? Think it over? Run?" Dominic's smile widened. "No, Kira Volkov. You don't get any of those things. Welcome to the Silvercrest Pack.”

As Cassidy led me from the office, I caught one last glimpse of Dante. He was still staring at me. But just before the elevator doors closed, I saw his lips move, forming words I could read even without hearing them:

"You're already dead."

I believed him.

They gave me a room that was three times the size of any bedroom I'd ever had, with a view of the city that would have been breathtaking if I could focus on anything except the certainty that I'd made a catastrophic mistake.

The guardian bond ritual was in three hours. Cassidy had explained the basics before leaving me alone: it was a blood ritual that would tie my life force to Dante's, allowing me to sense danger to him, share some of his enhanced abilities, and, most critically, create an unbreakable compulsion to protect him at all costs.

It was also, from what I'd gathered from her carefully neutral expression, incredibly painful and had a failure rate of about thirty percent. Failure meant death, the bond would tear apart the guardian's mind trying to establish a connection that couldn't hold.

So. That was fun.

I paced the length of the room, my wolf pacing with me inside my skin. She was more agitated than I'd felt her in years, pushing at my control, wanting out. The Silvercrest compound was saturated with pack energy, dozens of wolves all living in close proximity, their combined power pressing against my senses like humidity before a storm.

It made my skin itch. Made me want to run.

A knock at the door interrupted my fourth circuit of the room. I froze, every muscle tensing.

"It's open," I called, trying to sound less terrified than I felt.

The person who entered wasn't who I expected. Instead of Cassidy or another enforcer, it was a young person in their early twenties with close-cropped blonde hair, wearing jeans and an oversized cardigan. They carried a tray loaded with food, not the cafeteria slop I was used to, and a genuine smile.

"Hey," they said, setting the tray on the desk. "Figured you might be hungry. Bond rituals work better when you're not running on empty."

I eyed the food suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Sage Winters. Pack historian, research specialist, and part-time welcomer of traumatized teenagers." They gestured to the chair. "It's not poisoned. If the Alpha wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."

That logic was sound enough that I sat and grabbed a sandwich. Roast beef, actual vegetables, bread that didn't taste like tissue. My stomach reminded me I'd skipped breakfast after finding Adrian's body.

Adrian. Dead, drained, his eyes flashing gold for just a moment when I'd…

"So you're a Blood Heir," Sage said conversationally, dropping into the other chair. "That's wild. I've only read about them in the old texts."

I swallowed my bite of sandwich. "What exactly is a Blood Heir?"

Sage's eyebrows rose. "You really don't know?"

"I really don't. Up until this morning, I thought I was just a rogue trying to survive until graduation."

"Okay, crash course in supernatural genetics." She pulled out their phone, scrolling through what looked like scanned pages of ancient texts. "Blood Heirs are born maybe once every few generations. They have the ability to absorb and temporarily wield other wolves' abilities, strength, speed, specific gifts like tracking or persuasion. In theory, a fully trained Blood Heir could take on the powers of multiple wolves at once."

"That sounds..." I searched for the right word. "Terrifying."

"It is. That's why most Blood Heirs were killed during the Treaty Wars fifty years ago. The packs were consolidating power, establishing the current territorial system. Blood Heirs were too dangerous, too unpredictable. They couldn't be controlled through normal pack hierarchy because they could match an Alpha's power just by touching them."

My sandwich suddenly felt like lead in my stomach. "So they killed all of them?"

"All the ones they could find. Some went into hiding, but over the decades, they just... disappeared. Everyone assumed the bloodline had died out." Sage looked at me with something between fascination and sympathy. "Until you showed up at a murder scene with your hands glowing."

"They weren't glowing," I muttered, but my heart wasn't in the protest.

"Did you feel anything? When you touched Adrian?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Like... electricity. Or ice water. Something flowing through me. And his eyes, just for a second… they flashed gold."

"You absorbed some of his remaining essence," Sage said quietly. "The part of him that was still wolf, still connected to the pack. Blood Heirs can do that with the dying or recently dead. It's how you'll be able to help find his killer, you should be able to access his last memories."

"Should be?"

"The ability is genetic, but it requires training to use effectively. Most Blood Heirs were taught from childhood how to control their gift. You, on the other hand..." She gestured vaguely at me. "You're basically operating on instinct and hope."

"Story of my life."

Sage's smile was gentle. "Look, I know this is all overwhelming. You've been thrown into pack politics with zero preparation, bonded to possibly the most complicated wolf in the compound, and told to solve a series of murders that have the entire city's packs on edge. But for what it's worth, I think you might actually survive this."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're still here. Still choosing to fight instead of just rolling over and accepting execution. That takes guts." She stood, heading for the door. "The ritual starts at eight. Cassidy will come get you. Try to relax until then."

"Sage?" I called as she reached the door. "Why are you being nice to me? I'm a rogue. Doesn't that make me, like, your natural enemy or something?"

She paused, looking back with an expression I couldn't quite read. "I don't believe in natural enemies, Kira. Only people who haven't figured out yet that we're all fighting the same monsters." She pulled a small leather journal from their pocket and tossed it to me. "Here. I made notes on everything I could find about Blood Heirs and the guardian bond. Might help you prepare."

Then she was gone, leaving me alone with the journal and three hours until my life changed forever.

If I survived that long.