The White Wolf Curse

Chapter One — The Price of Obedience

"You will kill Alpha Kieran Voss, or Iris will die in your place."

Gareth Flint did not raise his voice when he threatened me. He never needed to. He sat behind his polished desk in the Silver Creek manor, turning a silver ring around one finger as if he were discussing the weather instead of deciding whether someone would live.

I stared at the vial on the desk. The poison inside was clear, almost beautiful, and small enough to hide in the seam of my sleeve. My hands remained still because Gareth had taught me that trembling only encouraged him.

"You understand the instructions?" he asked.

"I enter Night Shadow as a guest, wait for the welcome feast, and put three drops in the Alpha’s drink."

"And you do not improvise." His gaze shifted to Iris, who stood beside the door with her wrists clenched together. "If you fail, the girl pays for it."

Iris had been the only person in Silver Creek who treated me as if I were human. She had smuggled food into my room when Vivian locked me away, and she had cleaned the blood from my lip after Gareth punished me for speaking back. I could not let her suffer because I refused to become the weapon they wanted.

"Why Kieran Voss?" I asked, though I already knew better than to question Gareth.

My stepfather’s smile vanished. "Night Shadow has grown too powerful. Its Alpha is a threat to every neighboring pack. You should be grateful that your miserable life can finally be useful."

Useful. That was what I had been called since my mother died. Useful when I scrubbed floors. Useful when Vivian needed someone to blame for a broken ornament. Useful now that Gareth needed a disposable assassin.

Vivian entered in a white dress, her hair pinned with pearls. She looked at the vial and laughed softly. "Try not to embarrass us, Elara. If the Alpha catches you, perhaps he” I stop myself.

Her hand struck my cheek. Pain flashed across my face, and the room went quiet. Gareth rose slowly, and I lowered my eyes before he could decide the insult deserved something worse.

"You leave at dusk," he said. "Iris will accompany you. You will be watched every step of the way."

He pushed a small leather pouch toward me. Inside lay the vial, a folded invitation, and a narrow silver chain I had never seen before. Attached to it was a white wolf fang, worn smooth with age. Beneath the fang lay a torn photograph showing the shoulder and jaw of a man. On the back, one word had been written in fading ink: Silas.

"What is this?" I asked.

Gareth snatched the photograph from my hand, but not before I saw the sudden fear in his eyes. "A trinket your mother kept. It means nothing."

My mother had died when I was young, and Gareth had destroyed almost everything that belonged to her. He had never mentioned Silas. He had never admitted she owned a white wolf fang. I slipped the chain into my pocket while he turned away.

At dusk, Iris and I rode toward Night Shadow in a carriage bearing Silver Creek’s crest. The farther we traveled, the more the air changed. Pine forests crowded the road, and a cold wind pressed against the carriage windows. I could feel the border wards long before we reached them, a pressure beneath my skin that made my teeth ache.

"You can still tell them the truth," Iris whispered when the guards changed horses.

"And then Gareth kills you."

"He may kill me anyway."

I looked at her. She was frightened, but she had come with me because she refused to leave me alone. That courage hurt more than any threat.

"I will get you out," I promised.

Night Shadow’s fortress rose from the mountain like a dark crown. Torches burned along the stone walls, and guards watched us pass beneath an iron gate. Somewhere inside, Alpha Kieran Voss waited for his dinner, unaware that I had been sent to end his life.

The welcome hall glittered with chandeliers and polished silver. Wolves in formal clothes turned to study me as I entered behind the Silver Creek delegation. I felt their suspicion like fingers against my skin. A servant guided me toward the banquet table, where a dark-haired man sat at its head.

Kieran Voss was younger than I expected, but nothing about him looked gentle. His shoulders filled his black coat, and a faint scar crossed one knuckle. His eyes were a pale, cold gray that seemed to notice every movement in the room.

He lifted his glass. Conversation softened around him.

I took my place near the table and waited for the right moment. My pulse hammered so loudly I could barely hear the music. When a servant passed, I exchanged my untouched cup for the one prepared for the Alpha, then let the vial slide into my palm.

Three drops. Gareth had repeated it until the instruction lived inside my skull.

Kieran turned toward a visiting elder, and I leaned forward as if to offer a polite greeting. The poison slipped from the vial into his wine. I returned the vial to my sleeve and forced my face into a smile.

Then Kieran stopped speaking.

His head tilted. His nostrils flared, and the gray in his eyes sharpened into something almost silver. He looked at the glass, then at me.

"Who poured this?" he asked.

No one answered. The hall fell silent.

Kieran rose, his chair scraping across the stone. "Seal the doors."

Guards moved at once. My escape vanished behind iron and armed bodies. I reached for the hidden blade in my boot, but Kieran was already watching the movement.

"You," he said, pointing directly at me. "Step away from the table."

I took one step back. Every wolf in the room turned toward me, and the Alpha’s expression changed from suspicion to something darker, almost disbelieving.

His hand closed over his chest as if a blade had entered it. A strange pulse answered beneath my ribs, hot and sudden, and the fang in my pocket warmed against my skin.

Kieran stared at me as though he had just recognized a ghost.

"Impossible," he whispered. Then his voice thundered through the hall. "Take the assassin alive."