Chapter 2

• Darius POV
• —Years before—
• Mud up to my ankles. Blood in it too.
• Nightfang moved around me in silence—trained, mean, waiting on my word.
• Silverstrike’s border was ahead.
• Tonight it falls.
• Their Alpha thought he could keep selling wolves to vampires and witches and the Council would look away.
• Silverstrike called it trade.
• I called it slavery.
• Tonight it ends.
• “Beta, left flank,” I barked. Kaelen gave a quick nod and vanished into smoke.
• Lightning split the sky. Burned fur hit my nose. I shifted on the move—bones cracking, claws tearing free. Used to hurt.
• Now it just meant I was home.
• The first guard came teeth-first.
• I caught his throat and slammed him into the wall hard enough to crack stone. Another lunged from behind—bad choice. I spun, claws tearing across his chest.
• Blood sprayed hot across my skin.
• He dropped before he hit the mud.
• Vorren growled deep in my skull, eager for violence.
• He’s close.
• I know.
• We pushed deeper. Silverstrike wolves fought like they still had honor.
• They didn’t. Not after what their Alpha did.
• Nightfang came from the ones he sold and the ones who survived it.
• That’s who we are—the unwanted, the feared, the wolves who bite back.
• The Alpha’s den waited at the end of the hall. I kicked the doors open.
• He stood there—broad, older, gold eyes, silver blade in hand like that’d help.
• “Fenwick,” he sneered. “You come to play hero now?”
• “I came to finish what you started.”
• He lunged. Good.
• We hit hard—claws, fists, blood. He was slower, soft from hiding behind the deals he made.
• I was built on rage.
• I caught his wrist, twisted till bone snapped, slammed him toward the firepit.
• “You sold wolves,” I said. “Our kind. My kind.”
• “Better them than the rest of us.”
• “Wrong answer.”
• I shifted mid-swing. Claws through chest, clean to the heart. He dropped.
• Silence. The kind that follows every kill. The kind where the world stops to see what you’ve done. I never stop long.
• Then the scent hit.
• Not blood. Not smoke. Wildflowers, soft under the storm.
• I turned. A little girl stood in the doorway—barefoot, drowning in a nightgown, maybe nine. Silver eyes bright even in the dark. Staring at the body on the floor.
• Vorren slammed into me.
• Mate.
• No.
• Ours.
• The word ripped through my skull violent enough to make my chest tighten.
• I turned.
• A little girl stood in the doorway.
• Too young.
• Too fragile.
• Barefoot. Drowning in a thin white nightgown stained gray with ash. Silver eyes wide beneath smoke-dark lashes.
• And staring straight at me.
• Not at the blood.
• Me.
• The scent clung, pure and wrong in a room full of death.
• My wolf went vicious inside me.
• Most pups cried at the sight of me.
• She didn’t.
• She should’ve been terrified.
• Instead she stared at me like she was trying to memorize my face.
• Vorren prowled against my ribs.
• Mine.
• No.
• Absolutely fucking not.
• She couldn’t be.
• Not here. Not now.
• Not the daughter of the man cooling at my feet.
• Kaelen came in behind her, froze. “Alpha?”
• “She’s his kid,” I said, voice rough. “Get her out. Feed her. Keep her away from this.”
• “She’s—”
• “Now, Kaelen.”
• My tone cracked through the room hard enough to end the conversation.
• He crouched carefully in front of her. Spoke softer than I’d ever heard him speak.
• “Come on, pup.”
• She hesitated.
• Just for a second.
• Then walked toward him with small quiet steps.
• Vorren watched every movement.
• Strong little thing.
• “Not a word,” I muttered.
• The wolf went quiet, but the pressure stayed lodged beneath my skin like a splinter.
• At the door, she stopped.
• Turned back.
• Rain flashed silver through the windows behind her, catching the pale streak in her dark hair.
• Those silver eyes locked onto mine again.
• No fear.
• That bothered me more than hatred would’ve.
• Kaelen wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and led her outside.
• Only when the door shut did I finally breathe again.
• I looked down at the corpse on the floor.
• Silverstrike’s Alpha. The trader of wolves.
• Dead at last.
• Nightfang would finally have its revenge, and every pack in the territories would remember what happened when you sold your own kind.
• So why the hell could I still smell wildflowers?
• Outside, rain hammered against the trucks.
• Kaelen stood near the lead vehicle, the girl tucked inside his oversized cloak. The white streak in her soaked hair glowed against the dark fabric.
• She looked up when I walked past.
• Didn’t flinch.
• Vorren’s voice dropped low and certain.
• She knows you.
• I didn’t answer.
• Just climbed into the truck and slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame.
• The engine roared to life beneath me.
• But it didn’t drown out the scent.
• Miles away from Silverstrike, I could still smell wildflowers clinging to my skin.
• I’d killed her father.
• So why did my wolf already sound like he’d die for her?