Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 9

"You actually think a stray like that bought a Black Snake Vrig leather vest?"The sneer echoes across the manicured courtyard of Sterling Wolf Manor. I stand on the edge of the lower lawn, my throat tight with the scent of roasted stag and high-ranking omega pheromones. My half-sister, Tahlia Sterling, stands near the ornamental water fountains, preening beneath the gazes of a dozen high-born pack scions. She’s draped in the latest winter-cut pelt from the Condex elite lines, a garment that costs more than an entire year of hunting rations in the Ashgrove Wildlands."It looks flawless on your frame, Tahl," a sub-alpha from the Vinqlo border packs purrs, nudging her shoulder. "I heard klinton had to pull favors from the high elders just to get that hide imported for your transformation ceremony. Your father treats you like a true Alpha heir.""The Bloodfang Raiders have been cleared from our borders, and now this?" another socialite chimes in, holding a goblet of fermented blood-wine.

"You honestly believe a low-born stray from the Ashgrove Wildlands can pull off an elite silver-weave battle-plate tunic?"Tahlia’s voice echoes through the stone corridor just before she paces down the spiral staircase, her scent spiking with malicious amusement. I stand inside the locked bathing chamber, running my clawed fingers over the fine, metallic threads of the Black Snake Vrig garment she left behind. It is deliberately designed for the narrow, hyper-lean frame of a high-tier omega royal, meant to display a flawless collarbone and a tight, sculpted waist. A single blemish, a single uneven muscle line, and the wearer looks like a deformed beast trying to mimic royalty."He will look like an absolute monstrosity," Tahlia whispers to her mother right outside my door, unaware that my heightened wolf senses can pick up her lowest frequency vibration. "And those five-inch silver-heeled combat boots I left by the threshold? The feral idiot has probably spent the last decade running

"Get your hands off him, you absolute bastard!"Mirelle Voss's screech ripples through the upper gallery as she lunges across the stone dais toward Tahlia's collapsed form. Her ceremonial headpiece shatters against the basalt floor, silver pins scattering like teeth. In her frenzied panic to shield her bastard child, Mirelle drives her shoulder violently into my flank, deliberately trying to force me over the drop.I am balanced on the narrow edge of the wooden ritual stage, my ankles locked into the five-inch silver Uoman Lanka combat boots. The sudden, unweighted impact snaps my center of gravity completely sideways. I am plunging off the platform toward the jagged stone floor below.Instinct takes over. I tuck my chin and cross my forearms over my throat to absorb the concussion of the fall. If my skull cracks against the basalt, the Vinqlo guards will shred my inner wolf before I can shift.But the impact never comes.A massive, slate-hard forearm bolts out of the darkness, striki

"The moon has turned, klinton," I whisper into the heavy, black air of my quarters, refusing to touch the wall levers for the fire-orbs.The blue light of the communication slate cuts through the darkness as I stalk toward the edge of my mattress. My boots are completely silent against the stone floor. Hiss. A dry, sharp rattle tears through the silence—the rapid, defensive inhalation of a cornered predator. The vibration settles about three feet from my left boot, right in the center of my caribou bedding."What manner of vermin did they set loose in my den?" I murmur, lifting the slate high to let the display's glare flood the dark sheets.A massive Blacktide adder, its neck fully flared into a hood of iridescent scales, glares back at me with unblinking, emerald eyes. It is already coiled, its lethal weight shifting to launch. If my wolf hadn't broken through my sleep cycle due to the servant's retreating tracks, my throat would already be liquefying from its fangs.The serpent str