Chapter 4: The Collector's Game

The Royal Pack is nothing like Lake Moon. Where my old pack was modern buildings and neat lawns, this place is ancient. The castle rises from the mountain like it grew from the stone itself, all towers and battlements under a darkening sky.

"Welcome to your new home," Byrde says, his hand warm on my lower back.

It's been three days since the attack. Three days of traveling in armored vehicles, constantly looking over our shoulders. The silver scars on my side throb with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of how close I came to death.

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

"It's the safest place in the kingdom," the King says from ahead of us. "These walls have stood for a thousand years. They'll protect you."

But as we enter through massive iron gates, I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into a trap.

The pack members line the courtyard, all wanting to see their prince's mate. Their stares range from curious to hostile. I hear the whispers:

"A silver wolf?"

 "The traitor's daughter?"

 "She's cursed, look at those scars."

 "The prince deserves better."

Byrde growls low in his throat, and the whispers stop immediately.

"This is Wendy Stone," he announces, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "My mate. Your future princess. Anyone who disrespects her disrespects me."

Most bow their heads, but I catch a few glares. One in particular makes me freeze - a stunning redhead in an expensive dress, watching from a balcony. Her eyes are full of hatred.

"Who's that?" I ask quietly.

Byrde follows my gaze and tenses. "Victoria. My former... it doesn't matter."

But I can fill in the blanks. Ex-girlfriend. Maybe even ex-fiancée, from the possessive way she's looking at him.

"Your Highness," a guard approaches, bowing. "The council requests your immediate presence. Both of you."

The council chamber is intimidating - twelve ancient wolves sitting in carved thrones, their eyes holding centuries of wisdom and judgment.

"So," the eldest speaks, his voice like grinding stone. "This is the girl who survived concentrated wolfsbane."

"She has a name," Byrde says sharply.

"Peace, young prince." The elder's eyes don't leave me. "Show us, child. Show us the marks."

I look at Byrde, who nods encouragingly. Slowly, I lift my shirt to reveal the silver scars. They spiral across my ribs like frozen lightning.

The council gasps collectively.

"Impossible," one mutters.

"She bears the Mark of the Ancient," another whispers.

"What's the Mark of the Ancient?" I ask.

The eldest stands, approaching me slowly. "May I?"

I nod. His fingers hover over the scars, not quite touching. "These marks... they only appear when old magic saves someone who should have died. Someone destiny has plans for."

"What kind of plans?"

"That remains to be seen. But marked ones always face great trials. And they always change the world - for better or worse."

"She's dangerous," a younger council member says. "The Collector will come for her. We'll all be at risk."

"She's my mate," Byrde says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Which is why this is so complicated," the eldest sighs. "Prince Byrde, you understand what claiming her means? The danger it brings to our pack?"

"I understand that she's mine and I'm hers. Everything else is secondary."

"Your Highness!" A guard bursts in. "Forgive the interruption, but we have a situation."

We follow him to the walls where warriors are gathered, all staring at something in the forest. As we approach, I see it - a single black envelope floating in mid-air just outside our borders.

"Magic," someone whispers.

The King steps forward. "Retrieve it."

A warrior crosses the border and grabs the envelope. The moment he touches it, he screams, dropping to his knees. Black veins spread up his arm.

"Wolfsbane poison!" someone shouts.

I don't think. I just move. Racing to the fallen warrior, I place my scarred side against his poisoned arm. The silver marks on my skin glow, and I feel the poison being drawn into me. It burns, but not like before. My marks absorb it, neutralize it.

The warrior gasps, his arm returning to normal. "How...?"

I help him up, then pick up the envelope. It doesn't affect me at all.

"Your marks," the eldest council member breathes. "They made you immune."

Inside the envelope is a single card with elegant handwriting:

To the Silver Wolf,

 You have something I want. I have something you need.

 Let's make a trade.

 Your mother's life for your willing surrender.

 You have 24 hours to decide.

 -The Collector

P.S. Check the northern tower. I left you a gift.

The paper falls from my numb fingers. "My mother is dead. She died when my father did."

"We need to check the tower," Byrde says.

We race through the castle to the abandoned northern tower. The door is already open. Inside, tied to a chair, is a woman I recognize from old photos.

"Mom?" The word comes out as a broken whisper.

She looks up, and despite years of hardship written on her face, I know it's her. Same brown eyes. Same gentle smile.

"Wendy? My baby?"

I run to her, cutting her bonds with claws I didn't know I'd extended. She pulls me into her arms, and I breathe in her familiar scent - lavender and home.

"How?" I sob into her shoulder. "They told me you died."

"The Collector," she says, her voice hoarse. "He saved me that night. Kept me prisoner all these years. Said I might be useful someday."

"Why didn't you try to escape? To find me?"

"He had you watched. Said if I tried anything, he'd kill you." She pulls back, cupping my face. "But then you developed into something special. Something he wants."

"The silver wolf," I say.

"More than that." She notices my scars and gasps. "You bear the marks. Oh, Wendy, no."

"What aren't you telling me?"

She looks at Byrde, then back at me. "The Collector isn't just interested in rare wolves. He's trying to create something. A perfect weapon. And marked ones... they can channel pure magic. With you, he could-"

"Destroy kingdoms," Byrde finishes. "He could turn you into a weapon of mass destruction."

"But he's giving me a choice," I say. "My willing surrender for-"

"No." Byrde's voice is final. "We'll find another way."

"What if there isn't one?"

"There's always another way."

But my mother shakes her head. "You don't know him like I do. The Collector always wins. Always. The only reason he's giving you a choice is because willing surrender makes the bond stronger. Makes the weapon more powerful."

"Then we fight," Byrde says.

"With what army?" Victoria's voice cuts through the room. She stands in the doorway, perfectly posed. "Half our warriors are still recovering from the rogue attack. The other half won't fight for her." She points at me. "Face it, Byrde. She's not worth the risk to our pack."

"Watch your tongue," Byrde warns.

"Or what? You'll banish me like you did your last girlfriend when she questioned your judgment?" Victoria laughs. "You're thinking with your heart, not your head. The smart move is obvious. Give the Collector what he wants."

"Get out," Byrde says quietly. "Now."

Victoria smirks. "Twenty-four hours, remember? Tick tock."

After she leaves, my mother touches my arm. "She's not wrong. The Collector has an army of marked ones. Wolves he's collected over centuries. You can't fight him."

"Then what do I do?"

She looks me in the eyes. "You run. Both of you. Go somewhere he can't follow."

"There's nowhere he can't follow," a new voice says.

We spin to find a man in the corner who wasn't there seconds ago. He's handsome in an otherworldly way - silver hair despite looking young, eyes that shift color, wearing an expensive suit.

The Collector.

"Hello, little silver wolf," he smiles. "We need to talk."

Byrde shifts partially, claws out, but the Collector raises a hand and Byrde freezes mid-motion.

"None of that, young prince. I'm here to negotiate, not fight." He walks closer to me, circling slowly. "My, my. You're even more magnificent than I imagined. Those marks..." He reaches out.

"Don't touch her," my mother warns.

"Protective, aren't we?" He laughs. "Don't worry. I take excellent care of my collection. She'll want for nothing."

"Except freedom," I say.

"Freedom is overrated. Power, on the other hand..." He waves his hand, and the walls become transparent, showing a massive army of wolves surrounding the castle. "That's my collection. Three hundred marked ones, all loyal to me."

My heart sinks. We're surrounded.

"Now then," he continues. "Let's discuss terms. You come willingly, and I'll spare everyone here. Refuse, and..." He shrugs. "Well, I'll take you anyway, but there'll be significantly more casualties."

"You're a monster," I whisper.

"I'm a collector," he corrects. "And you, my dear, are about to become my masterpiece."

He pulls out an ornate collar made of black metal with silver runes. "This will bind you to me. Willingly wear it, and your loved ones live. Refuse..."

One of his marked ones appears, holding a knife to my mother's throat.

"Choose quickly," the Collector says. "My patience has limits."

I look at Byrde, frozen but his eyes blazing with fury. At my mother, terrified but trying to be strong. At the pack members visible through the transparent walls, unaware of the danger surrounding them.

"If I agree," I say slowly, "you'll leave them all alone? Forever?"

"You have my word."

"The word of a kidnapper and killer?"

He smiles. "I'm many things, but I'm not a liar. Yes, they'll be safe."

I reach for the collar.

"Wendy, no!" my mother cries.

But just as my fingers touch the metal, something unexpected happens.

My scars burst into blinding silver light. The Collector screams, jerking back. The collar falls, hitting the ground with a sound like thunder.

"Impossible," he gasps, staring at me in shock. "You're not just marked. You're..."

But before he can finish, he vanishes, taking his army with him. The walls return to normal. Byrde unfreezes, catching me as I collapse.

"What just happened?" he asks.

My mother is staring at me with awe and fear. "The prophecy. I thought it was just a legend, but..."

"What prophecy?" I demand.

"The one about the Silver Moon Wolf. The one destined to either destroy all supernatural creatures... or save them."

And suddenly, I understand why the Collector really wants me.

I'm not just a weapon.

I'm the weapon.