Chapter Three: Blood and Betrayal

Sera's rust-colored wolf hits the ground running.

The rabid wolves attack without strategy, all feral hunger and snapping jaws. Dante takes the lead, his alpha wolf massive and deadly. He catches the first attacker mid-leap, crushing its spine with one powerful bite.

Sera darts left, using her smaller size to her advantage. She slides under a lunging wolf and comes up behind it, hamstringing it with precise efficiency. The creature goes down screaming.

But there are too many.

A rabid wolf catches Sera's flank, teeth sinking deep. Pain explodes through her side. She twists, snapping at its face, forcing it to release her.

Dante roars—not a wolf sound, but something primal that shakes the trees. The alpha command in it makes even the rabid wolves hesitate.

It's all the opening they need.

They fight back-to-back, moving in perfect synchronization. Despite five years apart, their bodies remember this dance. Sera goes low while Dante strikes high. When he's vulnerable on the right, she covers him. When she's cornered, he's there.

The battle is over in minutes that feel like hours.

Eight rabid wolves lie dead or dying around them. Sera's side burns where she was bitten, but the wound is already starting to heal.

Dante shifts back to human, breathing hard. Blood—not all of it his own—covers his chest. "You okay?"

Sera shifts, wincing as the movement pulls at her injury. "I'll live. You?"

"I've had worse." He's staring at the dead wolves with a grim expression. "This was planned. Someone knew we'd be on this road."

"The person who texted me."

"Which means they're watching us right now." Dante's eyes scan the tree line. "We need to move."

They retrieve clothes from the truck—Dante keeps emergency supplies—and dress quickly. Sera's hands shake as she pulls on jeans that don't fit quite right.

"The hospital," she reminds him. "David Chen."

"Might be a trap too."

"Then we spring it." Sera meets his eyes. "We need to know what he knows about Connor."

Dante nods slowly. He pulls out his phone and makes a call. "Marcus, it's me. I need you at Crimson Hollow General, ICU. Full security detail." He pauses. "Because I said so. Move."

He hangs up and looks at Sera. "If this is a trap, at least we'll have backup."

They drive in tense silence. Sera keeps checking her phone, expecting another threatening text. None comes.

"Why would Connor's family wait five years to come looking for him?" she asks.

"Maybe they didn't know he was dead. The council told everyone he transferred."

"But if Rebecca and David are here, asking questions—"

"Then someone told them the truth," Dante finishes. "Question is who."

Crimson Hollow General appears through the windshield—a modest three-story building serving the town's human and supernatural population. Dante parks in the emergency zone, not caring about the human rules.

Inside, the hospital smells of antiseptic and fear. A nurse recognizes Dante immediately.

"Alpha Silverclaw, he's in room 304. Third floor." She hesitates. "I should warn you, he's in bad shape. The doctors say if he were human—"

"I understand. Thank you."

They take the stairs two at a time. The ICU is quiet, visiting hours long over. Two of Dante's pack members stand guard outside room 304—Marcus and another wolf Sera doesn't recognize.

"Report," Dante orders.

Marcus, a broad-shouldered man with graying temples, straightens. "No one's been in or out except medical staff. The patient has been conscious but sedated. He keeps asking for—" His eyes land on Sera. "Her."

"Let us through."

Marcus steps aside, though Sera can feel his disapproval radiating off him in waves. She follows Dante into the room.

David Chen looks like he's been through a blender. Claw marks rake across his face and chest. His left arm is bandaged from shoulder to wrist. But his eyes are open, lucid, and locked on Sera the moment she enters.

"You came," he whispers.

Sera approaches the bed slowly. "David, I don't know what you think I know, but—"

"Connor's journal." The words come out weak but urgent. "He kept a journal. Wrote everything in it. The last entry said if anything happened to him, to find Sera Blackwood. That you were the only one who could prove his innocence."

Sera's heart stops. "I don't have his journal. I didn't even know it existed."

"He gave it to someone the night he died. Someone he trusted." David's hand shoots out, gripping Sera's wrist with surprising strength. "Please. My sister is dead because we came looking for answers. I need to know my family didn't die for nothing."

"David, I swear I don't know—"

"Thomas Crane." David's grip tightens. "Connor's last entry said he gave the journal to Thomas Crane for safekeeping."

Sera and Dante exchange a look.

"Thomas is dead," Dante says quietly.

David closes his eyes. "Then it's gone. Everything Connor knew, everything he died trying to expose—gone."

"Not necessarily." Sera's mind is racing. "Thomas left us something. Evidence. But there was no journal in the box."

"Then someone else has it." David's voice is fading, the sedation pulling him under. "Find it. Before they kill everyone Connor ever cared about."

"Who's 'they'?" Dante demands. "David, who's ordering these attacks?"

But David's eyes are closing. His grip on Sera's wrist loosens.

"David, stay with us. Who's behind this?"

"Council..." David mumbles. "Not all... just one... the one who... who stands to lose..."

He's unconscious before he can finish.

"Damn it." Dante turns to Sera. "One council member. But which one?"

"There are four left," Sera says. "Elder Patricia, Elder James, Elder Richard, and—"

"Elder Victoria." Dante's jaw clenches. "My aunt."

The words hang between them.

"You think Victoria is behind this?" Sera asks carefully.

"I think someone on that council murdered Connor Davis and has been covering it up for five years. My aunt has the most to lose if that truth comes out." He runs a hand through his hair. "She's the one pushing hardest for my mating ceremony. For me to choose a 'suitable' pack member and settle down."

"Someone she can control."

"Exactly."

Sera's phone buzzes. She pulls it out, her stomach dropping.

Another text from the unknown number: Nice try with the guards. But guards can't protect everyone. Check your email.

She opens her email app with shaking hands. There's one new message, no subject line. Just an attachment.

She clicks it.

It's a video. Maya is tied to a chair in what looks like a basement. She's conscious but terrified, with duct tape over her mouth. Behind her, a figure in a black hood stands motionless.

"Oh God," Sera breathes.

Dante looks over her shoulder, his body going rigid. The video is only ten seconds long, but the message is clear.

Another text arrives: Midnight. Old mill. The phone for the girl. No tricks, or I send her back in pieces.

"We have to call the police," Sera says, even though she knows it's futile.

"And tell them what? That my pack is being targeted by a supernatural serial killer?" Dante shakes his head. "We handle this ourselves."

"Then we set a trap. We give them the phone—"

"A fake phone."

Sera looks at him. "What?"

"We give them a fake. Buy ourselves time to find the real journal and figure out who's behind this."

"And if they check it before releasing Maya?"

Dante's expression hardens. "Then we fight our way out."

A commotion in the hallway cuts off Sera's response. Raised voices, Marcus shouting. Then the door bursts open and three people stride in—all wearing the silver pendants marking them as council members.

Elder Patricia leads the charge, her silver hair pulled into a severe bun. She's small but radiates authority. Behind her, Elder James and Elder Richard flank the doorway like sentries.

"Alpha Silverclaw," Patricia says, her voice cold. "Imagine my surprise when I hear you've brought an exiled wolf back to pack territory."

"This is pack business," Dante says.

"Everything is pack business when you're the alpha." Patricia's eyes slide to Sera. "Sera Blackwood. The council voted unanimously for your exile. You were forbidden from returning on pain of death."

Sera lifts her chin. "I'm here because pack members are dying."

"Yes, they are. And you show up at the same time." Patricia's smile is sharp. "Convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"You think I'm behind the murders?" Sera laughs bitterly. "I've been gone for five years."

"Have you? Or have you been lurking in the shadows, planning your revenge against the pack that rejected you?"

"That's enough," Dante snaps. "Sera didn't kill anyone."

"Can you prove that, Alpha?" Elder James steps forward, his bulk filling the small room. "Because from where we're standing, your judgment is compromised. This woman was your mate. You've always been blind when it comes to her."

"My judgment is fine."

"Is it?" Patricia moves closer to David's bed, studying his unconscious form. "This boy and his sister came to us with wild accusations about Connor Davis. Now she's dead and he's barely alive. And you bring your exiled ex-mate to question him. How does that look?"

"Like I'm trying to solve these murders before more people die," Dante growls.

"Or like you're trying to cover up whatever really happened to Connor." Patricia turns to face him. "We've been patient, Dante. We've given you space to grieve your beta, to adjust to the recent deaths. But this—" She gestures between Dante and Sera. "This is a bridge too far."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying the council is convening an emergency session. Tonight. To discuss your fitness as alpha." Patricia's eyes gleam. "After all, an alpha who harbors exiled wolves, who keeps evidence from the council, who lets sentiment override duty—that's an alpha who's lost his way."

Sera's blood runs cold. "You can't remove an alpha."

"We can if he's deemed unfit. The pack's safety comes first." Patricia looks at Dante. "You have a choice, Alpha. Exile her again—right now, in front of witnesses—or face a vote of no confidence."

The room falls silent.

Sera can see the calculation in Dante's eyes. If he loses his position, he loses all ability to protect her, to investigate the murders, to stop whoever's behind this.

But if he exiles her again...

"Do it," Sera says quietly.

Dante's head whips toward her. "No."

"You have to. I'll leave town. You stay alpha, you figure out who the killer is—"

"I'm not doing this again." His voice is raw. "I let you go once to save you. I'm not making that mistake twice."

"It's not a mistake, it's survival—"

"You are my survival!" The words explode out of him. "Do you understand that? Five years without you nearly killed me. I am not losing you again."

The vulnerability in his voice steals Sera's breath.

Patricia clears her throat. "How touching. But the law is the law."

"Then change the law," Dante says, still looking at Sera. "I'm calling for a full council investigation into Connor Davis's death and the recent murders. I'm formally requesting Sera Blackwood's exile be reviewed under new evidence."

"What evidence?"

"The evidence Thomas left us. Photos from the night of Sera's exile. Photos that show the council murdered Connor Davis."

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.

Elder Richard speaks for the first time, his voice like gravel. "That's a serious accusation, Alpha."

"It's the truth." Dante pulls out his phone—the one from the lockbox. "And I can prove it."

Patricia's face remains impassive, but Sera catches the flash of something in her eyes. Fear? Calculation?

"Very well," Patricia says. "Show us these photos at the council meeting. Tonight. Nine PM." She moves toward the door, then pauses. "And Alpha? If you can't prove your accusations, we won't just be voting on your fitness to lead. We'll be charging you with treason."

The three elders sweep out of the room.

The moment they're gone, Sera grabs Dante's arm. "You can't show them that phone. The second they see those photos—"

"I know." He pockets the phone. "But we just bought ourselves until nine PM. Five hours to find Connor's journal, figure out who has Maya, and stop this before it all falls apart."

"That's impossible."

"Probably." He cups her face with both hands. "But I meant what I said. I'm not losing you again. Whatever it takes."

His thumb brushes her cheek, and Sera's traitorous heart stutters. She's spent five years trying to hate this man, trying to move on. Five years telling herself he didn't fight for her.

But he did. He just fought in ways she couldn't see.

"Dante—"

His phone rings. He answers, listens, and his face goes white.

"We're on our way."

He hangs up and meets Sera's eyes.

"That was the pack patrol. They found another body."

"Who?"

"Celeste."

Sera's stomach drops. "The woman from the forest?"

"Throat torn out. Same symbol carved into her shoulder." Dante's hands are shaking. "Sera, they left her body on the steps of the pack house. In plain view. With a note pinned to her chest."

"What did it say?"

Dante's voice is hollow. "You're all going to pay for what you did. Starting with the alpha's whore."

Sera's blood turns to ice. Because that's not just a threat.

It's a declaration of war.

And they have five hours to figure out who declared it.