The Silver Pact

I crouched behind a  pine trunk, my breath misting in the freezing autumn night. Below me, the Silver River churned, black and bloated from three days of heavy mountain rain. It was the boundary line.

I belonged to neither. I was a rogue. A ghost in a worn canvas jacket and muddy boots, living on the thin strip of neutral wilderness between two armies.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, pulling the damp mountain air into my lungs. Underneath the damp earth and pine needle rust, I caught it. copper, ozone, and wet fur.

My hand dropped instinctively to the silver bladed hunting knife strapped to my thigh. As a lone wolf, surviving meant staying invisible. I drank my foul tasting silver root tea every morning to suppress my inner beast, keeping my scent as dull and human as possible. If either pack discovered a lone female hunting on their borders, they wouldn't ask questions before snapping my neck.

A sharp snap of a dead branch echoed across the riverbank.

I flattened my back against the pine tree, pulling my dark hood low over my face. Through the thick veil of grey mist, three figures materialized on the gravel shore.

They moved with fluid grace, shifters. They wore tactical dark grey armor  but their faces were bare, twisted in feral grins. Silverfang enforcers. I recognized the black wolf head tattoo inked across the leader's neck. They were hunting.

Then I saw their prey.

A male stumbled out of the treeline on the western side of the river. He was massive broad-shouldered, tall, and bleeding heavily from a jagged gash across his chest. Even limping and soaked in dark blood, he carried himself with a terrifying, arrogant authority. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and his clothes were ruined, torn to shreds by heavy claws.

An Ironclaw and not just any foot soldier.

The moonlight broke through the storm clouds for a brief second, catching the sharp, harsh angles of his jaw and the terrifyingly cold, amber gold of his eyes.

My heart did a violent stutter against my ribs,Gideon Sterling.

The heir to the Ironclaw corporate empire. The ruthless Alpha in training who had spent the last three years turning his pack's borders into an iron fortress. Every rogue in the mountains knew his name. He was famed for his cold, calculating mind and total lack of mercy.

Now, he was bleeding out on a gravel bank."Give it up, Sterling." the Silverfang leader taunted, splashing through the shallow edge of the river. "Your high tech border guards aren't coming for you tonight. Alpha Silas wants your head on a pike before dawn"

Gideon wiped a mixture of rain and dark blood from his eyes, his amber gaze locking onto the three men advancing on him. He let out a low, vibrating growl, a sound so dark and primal it rattled the pine needles above my head.

"Come get it," Gideon rasped, his voice rough as gravel.

The three Silverfang wolves lunged at once.

What followed was a brutal, sickening violence. Gideon fought like a cornered demon. Even critically wounded, he caught the first wolf by the throat, snapping the enforcer's neck with a sickening crack before tossing the body into the rushing river but his strength was fading fast. 

The second attacker tackled him into the mud, while the leader drew a curved blade that gleamed with a dull, deadly sheen.

Silver.

The blade slashed downward, driving straight into Gideon's shoulder.

Gideon let out a strangled roar of absolute agony. The burning toxin of the metal hit his bloodstream, and he collapsed onto his knees, his hands digging into the wet gravel as his amber eyes began to dim.

My breath hitched. I hated the Ironclaws. I hated everything Gideon Sterling stood for his money, his power, his icy corporate pack. I should have turned around and walked away into the darkness. It wasn't my fight.

Walk away, Lyra, I told myself. Let them kill him. It keeps you safe.

The Silverfang leader raised the silver blade high above Gideon’s exposed neck, a victorious sneer twisting his face. "For the pack," he growled.

Something inside me snapped.

 It was an ancient, buried instinct that tore through the suppressants in my veins like a wildfire. My blood burned hot, turning into pure liquid lightning.

I shed my human skin.

Bone cracked and reshaped. Muscles tore and reformed. My vision shifted from dull grey to vivid, hyper-detailed infrared. The canvas jacket fell away as a heavy, thick coat of fur exploded over my skin.

I burst from the treeline not as a woman, but as a massive white wolf.

I launched myself off the muddy bank, flying across the gap between the trees and the river shore. I hit the Silverfang leader in mid-air, my jaws locking around his throat before his silver blade could touch Gideon's skin.

The impact smashed us both onto the sharp gravel. The leader thrashed under me, his eyes wide with sheer terror as he looked up into my face not because I was killing him, but because of what I was.

A white wolf.

A ghost of the extinct Royal Lineage. A sight that hadn't been seen in Blackwood Valley for over twenty years.

I didn't give him time to scream. I clamped my jaws shut with full pressure, snapping his spine.

The last remaining Silverfang wolf gasped, staggering backward in horror at the sight of his dead leader. He looked at my stark white coat, drenched in his commander's blood, and backed away into the rushing river, turning tail to sprint back into the dark forests of the east.

Silence settled over the bank, broken only by the heavy pounding of the rain and the rushing river.

I stood over the dead enforcers, my chest heaving, my white fur spattered with crimson. The adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a sudden, sickening wave of horror at what I had just done. I had exposed myself. I had revealed my true form.

I turned my heavy, canine head to look at the male lying in the mud behind me.

Gideon was barely conscious. His breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps as the silver poison coursed through his wound. His amber eyes were half-lidded, blurred with pain and blood.

He looked up at me.

As a giant, blood soaked white wolf, I stepped closer, my golden eyes fixing on his.

I leaned down, my nose brushing against the warm, bloodied skin of his uninjured shoulder. I was checking to see if he was breathing, nothing more.

The moment my fur touched his skin, a shockwave tore through my soul.

It felt as if a bolt of thunder had slammed into my chest, dragging me to my knees. A phantom fire ignited along my spine, snapping invisible threads deep within my core. My wolf let out a high, desperate whine, bowing her head as an overwhelming, intoxicating scent flooded my senses, rich cedarwood, rain, and raw, primal dominance.

Gideon’s eyes snapped wide open. The dull blur in his golden gaze vanished, replaced by an intense, terrifying clarity.

His trembling hand reached up, his long, bloody fingers burying themselves deep into the thick white fur at my neck. He pulled me down slightly, his chest rising as he drew my scent deep into his lungs.

"You..." Gideon rasped, his voice vibrating directly against my soul, sending a violent shiver down my spine.

It was the bond. The ancient, undeniable, terrifying Fated Mate Bond.

Panic pure, icy panic flooded my veins.

I snapped my head back, tearing myself from his grip. My wolf scrambled backward on the slippery gravel, her tail tucked, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

No. No, no, no.

I couldn't have a mate. Especially not him. Not an Ironclaw Alpha heir. Not the man whose family would cage me, bleed me, or use my royal blood to rule the valley.

Gideon tried to push himself up, his hand reaching out toward me in the dark.

"Wait..." he choked out, his body trembling as the silver poison pulled him down into unconsciousness. "Don't... leave..."

His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed face first into the mud, still and silent.

I stood on the riverbank, shivering violently in the freezing rain.

The mate bond pulled at my chest like a heavy iron chain, screaming at me to go to him, to lick his wounds, to protect what was now mine.

Instead, I turned around, kicked off the bloodied gravel, and fled deep into the dark, silent trees.