13

Charollet woke to a haze of pain. Not just in her body but radiating from the worst mark: a bruise shaped like a wolf's mouth imprinted on her shoulder. It pulsed with each heartbeat. With every shallow breath. Her arm felt nearly numb, yet she felt every nerve ablaze.

She dared not move.

The room around her was dim. White-washed walls. A low fire flickered in a clay brazier. The scent of pine smoke curled into the quiet. She blinked, trying to gather memory of the throne room, Boris, Kade’s roaring strength.

Kade.

The bed beside her was large, furs and blankets piled around him. He lay on his side, watching her, silent.

Their eyes met.

No words came.

Just unspoken concern etched in his gaze.

It was the first time in weeks or months that she saw something other than ownership in his eyes. Something warmer.

Kade’s hand brushed her hair from her face.

A small gesture.

A beginning.

She tried to push herself up. Stars burst behind her eyelids.

“Easy,” he murmured, pulling her back gently.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, though the wound burned hotter than any word she'd formed in days.

He pressed his fingers to the bruise, and she cried out.

“It’s infected,” he said quietly.

Charollet stared at him. 

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he grabbed a woolen cloth and a small bowl of water, heating it at the fire's edge. With careful deliberation, he cleaned the bite area.

Charollet closed her eyes, forcing herself not to lose control.

He hummed under his breath, low, melodic, yet filled with worry.

“Stay with me,” he said finally.

She nodded, fear and comfort tangled together in her chest.

He wrapped the wound in linen and salve, made from proscribed herbs he carried on his belt. His movements were sure and tender. So unlike Kade the warrior, the punishments, the dominance.

“Tell me what hurts,” he said gently.

“It’s not just this,” she whispered. “Everything moves. The taste in my mouth. Blood in my throat.”

He stiffened, eyes darkening.

“Don’t speak,” he said softly. “Just rest.”

She lay back against his chest, and for a moment, the world was silent.

The morning light crawled in over her, pale and cautious.

Kade was awake. Kneeling by the brazier. Kneading his gloves between his fingers. Watching her from the corner of his eye.

Charollet’s throat dry, she whispered, “Why did you save me?”

He stopped, fingers halting. His voice low and distant. “Because no matter what they told me… in that moment… I realized I couldn’t let you die.”

She sat up, wincing. He moved to catch her, steadying her with arms surprisingly gentle.

“What does that mean?” she asked, voice shaking.

He looked away. Secrets glinted beneath his eyes. “It means… I don’t know.”

Charollet pushed herself to the window and forced herself to look out. It took all the energy in her body to move there.

Through the window, muffled noise drifted in – the patrols, the wave of murmurs through the estate. Charollet recognized the cadence of power shifting, guards whispering, warriors testing each other, wolves recalibrating authority.

Kade paced, shirtless, his torso scarred and raw. His wolf coiled within him. He was torn.

Between lust and protection.

Between fury and fear.

He reached out—looked at her belly, at her arms and then stepped back, shaking his head.

He shook his head.

“She’s still human,” he reminded them all in that solitary moment. “She’ll die under my protection.”

As day bled into afternoon and the wound was cleaned again, Kade spoke low.

“I’ve decided.”

Charollet glanced at him. He made sure to stay with her. He didn't leave her a single moment. She was his, no matter what he was batteling. His slave, his puppet, his human. 

“I’m going to kill Boris.”

She stared.

“Because if I don’t...if I let him claim you, impregnate you, use you, my entire soul won’t survive it.”

Her voice caught. “He tries to mark me? Make me his Luna?”

Kade nodded. His voice steady.

“He will. If he can. His only power lying in forced heritage.”

Charollet trembled.

A Luna...

He paced again, boots echoing.

“When the blood-moon rises, that’s his ritual window. He’ll try.”

Charollet closed her eyes. Fear took over her small fragile and recovering body.

Kade paused at her side.

He placed a hand on her forehead.

“Your fever… it’s spiking.”

She shivered under his touch and not to forget, the fever. 

He helped her upright, settled her against pillows.

“Let me handle this,” he murmured. “You need to rest.”

She nodded, voice gone. She didn't trust Kade. Not at all, but she rather let him kill Boris, than her be a luna for an alpha, without a wolf and forcibly.

He stayed by her through the day, dosing her with cold water, herbs, blankets. When she slept, he watched her with half-closed eyes—torn between relief at her peace and dread at the storm coming.

That night, the pack gathered in the courtyard.

Torchlight twisted across stone. Shadows danced on raised arms and torches.

The council assembled. Kade stood at the outskirts, quiet, observing.

Boris emerged on the dais—regal, but broken. The Alpha had never seemed so drained.

“Tonight,” Boris began, voice lifted to reach every ear, “I claim my Luna. I mark the one who embodies survival."

He gestured toward Charollet, raised on a dais.

Kade’s heart clenched.

“She will take the Rite of Binding,” Boris said. “When the blood moon crest the sky. The pack will solidify under our union.”

The murmurs roared into a tide.

But Kade didn’t move.

He watched Charollet, frail, fevered, teetering and something inside him broke.

She woke in the middle of the night, choking on her own breath.

The pain had twisted inside her ribs like coals stirred back to flame. Her skin felt too tight. Her body, too heavy. The bite throbbed with a sickly rhythm, as if it was not healing, but burrowing deeper.

Charollet barely had the strength to cry out.

But he was already there.

Kade knelt beside the bed, half-asleep but alert the second she stirred.

“Ssh,” he said, brushing a cloth across her forehead. “You’re burning.”

“It hurts,” she whispered, voice ragged.

“I know.”

He held a small vial in his palm, a thin silver flask wrapped in black leather.

“What’s that?” she croaked.

“Something the wolves use. Moonmoss and bloodroot,” he said. “It dulls the mark. Slows the body’s rejection.”

“Will it work on… me?”

He didn’t answer at first.

“No. But it might keep your heart from giving out.”

And then he looked at her, not as the fierce warrior who dragged her into the compound months ago. Not as the cruel hand of Boris’s law.

But as something else.

Something far more dangerous.

Tender.

Kade uncorked the vial and tipped the liquid onto her lips. Bitter, biting. It burned her throat, but the cold relief came seconds later.

Her breathing eased. Her pulse slowed.

She slumped back into his arms.

Kade held her longer than necessary. One hand on the small of her back, the other clutching her trembling fingers. He didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

But that silence was more intimate than anything she’d known.

“You’re not built for this place,” he murmured hours later, voice barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t ask to be.”

“I know.”

He turned his face toward the firelight. The shadows made him look older. Worn.

“Do you know what happens when a wolf marks another wolf?” he asked suddenly.

Charollet didn’t answer.

“It’s painful—but purposeful. The body recognizes the imprint. It bleeds, yes. But it binds.”

“And for humans?”

“It destroys,” he said. “Your skin’s already fighting it. That’s why it’s burning through you.”

“Then why did he—?”

“He wanted to lay claim to you before I could,” Kade said quietly.

Charollet blinked.

Not just from the pain.

From the revelation.

He hadn’t denied it.

“You said I wasn’t yours,” she said hoarsely. “Back in the throne room.”

“I said you weren’t his.”

“And the difference?”

“I’ve never forced you.”

A silence passed between them.

“But you’ve controlled me,” she said. “Kept me here.”

He didn’t flinch. “Yes. I regret that.”

Charollet’s breath caught.

That was new.

She turned her face away.

Kade stood. Moved toward the hearth.

“I’ve been groomed my whole life to follow Boris,” he said. “To become what he wasn’t. Strong. Strategic. Unquestioning.”

“But you’re questioning now.”

He looked back at her.

“Because of you.”

The confession curled through her like smoke.

“I have always wanted this,” he said. “The throne. The blood. The politics. But now? none of it, at least no at this cost."

“Then what do you want?” she asked, despite herself.

He paused.

“You,” he said simply. “Alive.”

The weight of the word hung in the air like a loaded arrow.

Later that night, Kade stepped outside the quarters, where two of his trusted lieutenants waited in the shadow of the stables. They bowed but kept their voices low.

“She’s not shifting,” said one. “The fever’s killing her.”

“I know.”

“We could send for the healer from Ravenspire,” the other suggested. “He treats non-wolf bloodlines.”

“She won’t make the journey.”

They were quiet.

Kade stared at the moonlight splashing against the stone walkway.

“Has the message reached the southern clans?” he asked.

“Yes. They’re waiting for the blood moon. If Boris falls during the Rite, they’ll recognize your claim.”

Kade’s jaw tightened.

“I’ll face him,” he said. “Challenge. No rites. No rituals. Just war.”

Inside, Charollet turned in her sleep, breath shallow.

Kade returned to her, unbuckled his armor, and lay on the edge of the bed—fully clothed, hands behind his head.

He didn’t sleep.

He just listened to her breathing. Counted the seconds between each shudder.

He never realized how loud silence could be. It was breaking him bit by bit. This girl, looked so scrawny, so fragile. She was just skin and bones. He knew what he'd done. A mere human and there was regret, especially after seeing her this way. 

The next morning, she collapsed trying to stand.

Kade caught her before her knees even hit the stone floor. His arm curled under her thighs, lifting her gently. He was there by her side. And she kept growing increasingly weak.

“I can do it,” she protested weakly.

“You can barely breathe.”

She hated how easily he carried her. Hated the way her body betrayed her, seeking warmth from the same man who once dragged her through the dirt.

He placed her in a steaming bath, not saying a word, and turned his back until she called for him.

His care was methodical. Controlled. Like he was trying not to feel too much.

But his hands lingered.

On her shoulder.

Her back.

Her wound.

Like he was begging it to heal.

She spoke as he brushed out her hair.

“My father used to tell me stories. About wolves.”

Kade tilted his head.

“They weren’t all monsters.”

He hesitated. “Not all of us are.”

“No,” she said. “Just most.”

He half-smiled. “That’s fair.”

Then she asked the question she had been dreading.

“If you lose the challenge… what happens to me?”

His hands froze.

“Then I’ll die knowing you didn’t.”

She turned to him.

“I don’t want to survive if you don’t.” Becuse she knew, that Alpa Boris was nothing short of a monster. She had heard stories. The maids had come, they whispered by the dorrs. She was weak yes. But that dodn't stop her from asking and listening to them.

Murders, Pysical and sexual assualts, Invasion. She had heard them all. Boris did everything to stay on top. He groomed other wolves to be the same. It was true that Deathfang was the most deadliest of them all. Everyone feared them. And how could she have not seen, Kade was groomed to be the beta, when alpha Boris had ripped his previous beta's heart out, just because he tried to mate.

But in another room, far beneath the keep, Boris stood before the bloodstone mirror.

His fingers bled against its surface.

“She weakens,” he told the reflection.

“She will die.”

But the mirror did not answer.

And the moon continued to rise.

The morning after the important meeting dawned cold and overcast-an omen, thought Kade, as he strode toward the training grounds. White mist hovered over trampled earth and grit. The wolves gathered in disciplined formation, watching him with a mixture of reverence and doubt. The campaign against Boris would not begin in darkness if he wanted to overthrow the Alpha, he would face the pack head-on.

Charollet watched through the tall, arched windows of Kade’s private chambers. The iron baying of warriors drifting down as she lay wrapped in furs, her shoulder tender and bandaged. She was still too fragile to leave the room, but strength flickered behind her eyes. She had never dreamt of power or vengeance, but now, forced into the eye of a storm, she found herself ready.

Kade emerged from the hall. His arms were bare, revealing the scars from his own past battles. He stared at the pack, granting them the quiet authority of a true leader. Not Alpha, yet, but a power they could not ignore.

Silence reigned as he approached the center of the field. The wind stirred the torn banners—red with the claw‑print crest of Darkfang. Beneath him, the cold mud quivered in readiness.

He raised his voice, steady and unbroken.

“Wolves of Darkfang. Boris has failed us.” He paused. “He has offered your Luna to strengthen his reign. She is not of his making. And he threatens your future to keep himself safe.”

Eyes widened and heads turned. Some didn’t understand. Others, especially the older warriors, did.

He continued: “Tonight, at the blood moon’s rise, he plans to mark her. In the open. To bind her to his bloodline.” Every word landed like a strike. “You will watch. That is tyranny. I stand before you to ask: who stands with Darkfang?”

There was a ripple among the pack. Then a roar of answer. Some of them slightly, others thunderous. Warriors gravitated into formation behind him, marking their allegiance.

Back in the chamber, Charollet sat up. Every muscle in her shoulder, near her collar bone, pulled tight, but she fought to breathe. She listened as the roar of wolves washed over the walls, a call to revolution.

Kade returned later, muscles burning from the field and faltering with fatigue. He entered quietly. Charollet looked at him, resolute but still human, still vulnerable.

He placed a cup of warm broth on the side.

“Eat,” he said gently.

She shook her head.

He pressed it toward her. She drank, slow and steady.

She didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

He moved toward her, lingering at the edge of the bed. Finally, he spoke.

“I will confront Boris tonight.”

Charollet swallowed. “I know.”

He frowned. “It won’t be a challenge. I’ll kill him.”

“We don’t have to…” she began, but he shook his head.

“I do,” he said, voice quiet as gravel. “Because if I say no, if I hesitate..I’ll lose you. Or he will.”

She flinched. It wasn’t confession. Not yet. But it was the first time he admitted what she meant to him. What was he saying? She was confused. She was distraught. She had tought about it for so long but she didn't understand Kade at all.

He leaned down. His fingers brushed the bandages protecting her bite mark. She closed her eyes.

“It won’t kill you. My wolf will guide the blade.” He gave her a small, tense smile. “But if it does—we’ll fall together.”

She didn’t say a word.

He didn’t ask for forgiveness.

Yet neither of them needed to say more.

By dusk, the full robes of ceremonial black and red-coated the courtyard. Kade moved through flickering torchlight to the dais, where Boris sat draped in ceremonial fur. Around him, the council, the Alpha’s court, watchers from other territories, diplomatic wolves of rival clans. They waited for the rite.

Charollet was held at the back of the crowd by two trusted guards, not chained, but escorted. Her gown was sleeved now—emerald and gold, serene and refined. Everything she was not.

Her throat constricted watching Boris take the stage and declare her the pack’s future.

When Boris spoke, his voice boomed:

“Behold your Luna. I claim her to cement this bloodline—yours, mine, all of Darkfang!”

He tapped his pendant. The blood moon had not risen yet—but the sky clouded red at the horizon.

Kade stepped into the circle when Boris nodded at him to proceed with the marking knife.

He raised the ceremonial blade. Charollet’s eyes met his for a fraction of a second—dread, relief, defiance.

Kade’s hand shot up.

He took the blade. The crowd gasped.

He turned to Boris.

She watched the Alpha’s lips split into rage.

He spoke through clenched teeth.

“You mark her tonight, Boris. I will not let that happen.”

He slid beside Charollet.

The two stared at each other—Bonded, unspoken, in front of an audience that felt the shift like thunder.

Her voice came softly, yet it carried to the courtyard.

“Kade.”

He paused time.

Then he gave the blade back—not to Boris, but into Charollet’s own trembling hand. She stared at it.

“What..?”

She couldn’t finish.

Boris hissed. “What trick is this?”

Kade faced him, ice behind his eyes.

“This isn’t your Luna,” he said. “It’s mine.”

Gasps ricocheted through the crowd.

He spoke again. “I did not mark her. She isn’t mine, yet. But if you raise a blade—you all challenge me. Not just him.”

From the corner of her vision, Charollet watched Kade’s jaw tighten. His voice even rang through stone.

“You... want her?” Boris spat.

Kade stepped forward, his blade lowered under torchlight.

“If she must be marked—I, not you, will claim her. Tonight.” Charollet froze. She was going to be Kade's luna? this was a betrayal she was not expecting. She should have realised that Kade was incapable to being anything but selfish. She shattred under the pressure and collapsed on the floor as tears spilled down her cheeks.

The moment shattered.

Boris rose like a wounded beast.

The council erupted.

Kade seized Charollet’s hand and pulled her up.

“Leave,” he whispered.

She hesitated. Then followed. She didn't want to be among the beasts.

It wasn’t safe yet.

They escaped through service tunnels beneath the dais. Throngs of guards closed behind them, confused and angry. Kade led her through damp stone halls until they emerged in the stables. Outside, Kade’s loyal warriors waited, helm-clad, weapons drawn, forming two protective lines that parted as Kade carried her toward the forest.

She clutched the gown’s hem, swallowing hard.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“A place you’ll be safe,” he said. “Until I take the crown.”

They reached the edge of the woods. Guards roared behind, torchlight snaking against canopy. Kade paused where moss and leaf litter muffled their escape.

He tucked the blade into her belt pouch.

“Here,” he said.

Charollet looked up at him. “Why—”

He didn’t finish.

Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist.

Guard wolves shouted behind them.

He drew her into the woods, the leaf cover swallowing them in silence. She stumbled. He caught her again.

He set her down near a hidden glade. Moss thick beneath them, the moonlow filtered by branches.

He crouched close, his expression unreadable. But she could see his chest heaving, ear-edge to dagger-edge.

He moved behind her—pressed his back to her spine.

They stood together in the moonlight.

No words. Not yet.

But it was enough.

Because they were together.

And the coup had begun.