The Trap

Inside the quiet, steel lined cabin, the air was thick with the scent of gun oil, leather, and ozone.

I sat near the hatch, stripped of the midnight blue silk gown. In its place, I wore a dark, tactical suit made of reinforced leather and kevlar flexible enough for a shift, yet tough enough to turn a knife. The twin silver daggers were strapped securely to my thighs, their familiar weight a grounding presence against the wild, frantic thumping of my heart.

Gideon stood by the table in the center of the cabin, reviewing the blueprint of High Ridge Lodge.

He wore a sleek, dark grey tactical gear that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. A heavy combat rifle was slung across his chest, and his dark hair was slightly damp from the rain outside.

"High Ridge Lodge sits on a narrow cliff face, surrounded by a three hundred foot drop into the canyon," Gideon explained, his finger tracing a red line along the holographic perimeter. "Silas has positioned at least fifty archers along the upper balconies. His main force over a hundred seasoned Silverfang warriors has encircled the main courtyard."

"And the hostages?" I asked, stepping up to the opposite side of the glowing table.

"They're being held in the grand ballroom at the center of the lodge," Gideon replied, his amber eyes rising to meet mine. "Including the Chief Peacekeeper, Elder Vane."

My breath hitched. "Vane is alive?"

Elder Vane was one of the few neutral wolves who had shown me kindness after my family was slaughtered. He had turned a blind eye whenever I traded pelts in the neutral market, keeping my presence a secret from the pack scouts.

"He is," Gideon said softly, reaching across the table to cover my hand with his gloved palm. The sudden heat of his touch sent a jolt of electric comfort straight through my veins. "Which is why we aren't walking in through the front gate."

"Silas expects me at midnight," I reminded him, tilting my head up to look into his glowing golden eyes. "If I'm not on those steps when the clock strikes twelve, he'll start executing the elders."

"You will be on those steps," Gideon murmured, his thumb lightly caressing the back of my hand. "Just not as his prisoner. You will be the distraction."

"A distraction?" I raised an eyebrow, a small, dangerous smile touching my lips. "You want me to walk into an army of two hundred wolves by myself?"

"You won't be by yourself," Gideon growled softly, his grip on my hand tightening gently, his tone laced with a possessive edge. "I will have six snipers hidden in the treeline on the ridge above. The moment Silas steps out to touch you, my team opens fire on his vanguard, and I blow the eastern wall to breach the ballroom."

Before I could answer, the red cabin lights flashed twice, accompanied by a low, computerized chime.

"Commander Sterling, three minutes to drop zone," the pilot's voice boomed over the comms. "We are flying below enemy radar, but the fog is dense. You'll have to jump."

Gideon let go of my hand, picking up his tactical helmet and securing his weapon. He hit the manual release button for the rear hatch.

With a loud sound, the heavy steel door swung downward, unleashing a wall of freezing mountain wind and driving rain into the cabin. The smell of damp pine, wet rock, and ancient earth flooded my senses, instantly drowning out the sterile metal air of the aircraft.

Below us lay the jagged silhouette of the High Ridge Lodge, lit up like a fortress in the mist by dozens of burning pitch torches.

"Remember the plan, Lyra," Gideon said, stepping close to the open hatch, his voice cutting clearly through the roar of the wind. He grabbed the frame of the door with one hand, reaching out with the other to cupping the back of my neck, pulling me close until our foreheads brushed. "You keep his attention. Don't let him touch your blood."

"I'm not going to let him hurt me, Gideon," I whispered, my heart hammering violently as the mate bond flared brightly, filling me with a sudden, intoxicating rush of courage.

Gideon’s amber eyes burned into mine with fiercely protective heat. "If anything goes wrong if he gets too close you unleash that royal voice again. I will tear that mountain apart to get to you."

"Drop in three... two... one" the pilot called out.

Gideon gave my neck a firm, reassuring squeeze, pulled his visor down, and leaped backward into the storm, vanishing into the pitch-black clouds below.

I took a deep, steadying breath, pulling the cold mountain rain into my lungs. I reached down, squeezed the hilts of my silver daggers, and stepped up to the edge of the open hatch.

Time to face my uncle.

Without another second of hesitation, I threw myself out into the dark abyss.

The freezing wind screamed in my ears as I fell, the ground rushing up at a terrifying speed. Fifty feet above the pine canopy, I pulled my rip-cord. The black tactical chute snapped open with a loud crack, jerking my shoulders and slowing my descent to a controlled glide.

I landed silently on a rocky outcropping fifty yards from the main courtyard of High Ridge Lodge, unbuckling my harness and letting the dark fabric vanish into the ferns.

I crouched low in the wet brush, watching the scene below.

The courtyard was a bloodbath in waiting. Over a hundred heavily armed Silverfang wolves paced the perimeter, their bare arms covered in black tattoos, their faces twisted in hungry, predatory scowls.

Dozens of archers lined the high wooden balconies of the lodge, their silver-tipped arrows pulled taut.

In the center of the courtyard, tied to a wooden pillar beneath the blazing light of four iron braziers, sat Elder Vane. His silver hair was matted with blood, his face bruised, but his eyes remained sharp and defiant.

Standing in front of him was a massive, imposing male clad in dark furs and iron shoulder guards. He carried a heavy double-headed war-axe on his back, his dark beard streaked with grey, his eyes glowing with an unstable, feral red light.

Alpha Silas. My uncle. The monster who had ordered my family butchered.

A heavy iron bell atop the lodge tower began to toll.

One . twi..three...

It was midnight.

Silas stepped forward, drawing a long, jagged silver blade from his belt. He placed the cold edge directly against Elder Vane's throat, a cruel, mocking sneer twisting his face.

"It seems the cowardly Ironclaw heir chose to keep his precious rogue," Silas roared, his booming voice echoing across the misty courtyard, met by a bloodthirsty cheer from his warriors. "Pity. I was hoping the girl had more spine than her dead father. Kill the hostages."

"I'm right here, Silas."

My voice echoed through the canyon like a crack of thunder, sharp, clear, and laced with an unmistakable, royal ring that instantly cut through the cheers of the mob.

The entire courtyard fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

Every head snapped toward the edge of the woods. The Silverfang warriors parted nervously, their weapons raised, as I stepped slowly out of the shadows into the blinding light of the braziers.

I walked bareheaded into the center of the courtyard, my dark tactical suit wet with rain, my golden eyes fixed entirely on the man who had ruined my life.

Silas froze, his eyes widening as he took in my face, my posture, and the undeniable aura of royal power vibrating around me. A slow, sickening grin spread across his face, exposing his sharp wolf fangs.

"Lyra," Silas purred, lowering the blade from Vane's throat as he took a step toward me. "Look at you. Grown up, hiding like a rat in the mud... and carrying the exact face of your mother."

"Release the elders, Silas," I said, stopping ten yards away from him, my hand resting casually near my thigh blade. "You wanted the royal blood. I am here. Let them go."

"Oh, sweet girl," Silas chuckled, a low, wet sound that made my stomach turn. "You don't make demands here. You are surrounded by two hundred wolves."

He raised his hand, signaling his guards. Four massive Silverfang enforcers stepped up behind me, blocking my path back to the woods, their silver blades drawn.

"Where is the Sterling boy?" Silas asked, his eyes scanning the dark treeline suspiciously. "I expected him to come running like a good little dog to protect his shiny new toy."

"Gideon Sterling doesn't own me," I said, holding his gaze to keep his eyes away from the eastern ridge where Gideon's snipers were positioning. "I came because I'm tired of running from a coward who hides behind an army."

Silas’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, murderous glare. "You always had your mother's arrogant mouth. It doesn't matter. Once I bleed you over the Blood Vault beneath this lodge, your royal magic will belong to me, and every wolf in this valley will bow to my voice."

Silas took a heavy step forward, reaching out his large, scarred hand to grab my hair. "Seize her."

Now, Gideon.I screamed in my mind.

A split second before Silas's fingers could touch my skin, a blinding flash of red light exploded from the high ridge above the lodge.

Six suppressed sniper rounds whistled through the night air with terrifying precision. The four enforcers surrounding me collapsed into the mud simultaneously, bullet holes drilled clean through their skulls.

Before the Silverfang crowd could even scream, a thunderous explosion rocked the eastern side of the lodge. The heavy stone wall of the ballroom shattered into a million pieces, showering the courtyard in fire, smoke, and debris.

Through the burning smoke, a massive grey shadow leaped fifty feet through the air, landing in the center of the courtyard with a bone-shattering thud.

It was a giant, silver grey wolf with glowing amber eyes, broad shoulders, and a chest as thick as iron.

Gideon in his wolf form.

Gideon let out a deafening, primal Alpha roar that shook the very foundations of the mountain, instantly throwing half the Silverfang vanguard into sheer panic. He lunged forward, his massive jaws snapping the neck of an advancing guard before throwing the body aside and stepping directly in front of me, shielding me from Silas with his massive frame.

"Sterling" Silas screamed in rage, pulling his heavy war axe from his back. "Kill them both."

The courtyard erupted into utter chaos. Silverfang wolves shifted into their beast forms, surging toward us in a wave of black fur, steel, and blood.

Gideon fought like a god of war, tearing through three attacking wolves at once, his heavy paws crushing bone while I ducked beneath his flank, drawing both my silver daggers and slicing through the hamstrings of any wolf that tried to flank him.

We moved together seamlessly, a lethal, fluid dance of teeth, claws, and silver blades, bound by the electric pulse of the mate magic surging between us.

"Lyra.Get Vane." Gideon’s voice echoed directly inside my mind through the bond of a deep, resonant growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn't hesitate. I sprinted through the swirling melee, ducking under a wild axe-swing and vaulting over a fallen guard. I reached the wooden pillar where Elder Vane was tied, drawing my dagger and slicing clean through his thick rope bindings in a single stroke.

"Lyra..." Vane gasped, clutching his bruised ribs as he pushed himself up. "You shouldn't have come... it's a trap..."

"I'm getting you out," I said, grabbing his arm to support his weight.

"No." Vane rasped, his terrified eyes fixing on the burning breach of the lodge behind us. "The vault... Silas didn't need you to open it! He already had your father's blood from three years ago! He brought you here to activate the ritual."

My blood ran ice cold. "What?"

Before I could process his words, a sickening, unnatural vibration echoed from deep beneath the earth.

The ground beneath the courtyard cracked open, wide fissures tearing through the granite flagstones. A column of thick, pitch-black smoke smelling of copper, rot, and ancient dark magic erupted from the center of the lodge, swallowing the night sky.

From within the dark smoke, a high pitched, agonizing scream echoed across the mountain as Alpha Silas was suddenly lifted ten feet into the air by invisible, shadowy tendrils.

The dark smoke wrapped around Silas's body, draining the life from his eyes as a massive, ancient glyph carved into the stone floor began to glow with a violent, blood-red light.

Gideon snapped his head back, his wolf letting out a low, uneasy whine as he backed toward me, his amber eyes wide with a rare alarm.

The black smoke coalesced into a towering, hooded silhouette above the ruined lodge. Two glowing, crimson eyes opened in the darkness, fixing directly onto me.

"At last..." a voice boomed, a voice made of a thousand drowned, screaming souls that vibrated inside the teeth of every wolf present. "The royal blood returns to feed the cage"