Chapter 5

• Darius POV
• The fire hadn’t even burned down before I smelled trouble coming.
• Anger has a scent—hot, sharp, impossible to miss—and Ronan Silverstrike reeked of it long before I saw him.
• Kaelen stiffened beside me. “Incoming,” he said under his breath.
• Ronan shoved through the crowd like a storm, guards at his back. The other Alphas went silent; even the drums faltered. He stopped at the edge of the council circle and pointed straight at me.
• “You think you can kill my father and then claim my sister?”
• Every head turned. The words hit the clearing like a blow. I didn’t move.
• “I didn’t claim anyone,” I said, voice flat.
• “The hell you didn’t.” Ronan’s eyes burned. “You stood there and let the bond happen. You knew.”
• Kaelen shifted uneasily beside me. “Bond?” he muttered. Then, louder, “What bond—”
• “Enough!” an Elder barked. Marris, oldest of them, stepped forward, her silver hair catching the moonlight. “You will not spill blood on sacred ground. The Gathering is under the Goddess’s sight.”
• Ronan rounded on her. “Then tell her to unmake it.”
• “You cannot unmake the moon,” she said simply. “You may rage against the world, Alpha Silverstrike, but you do not argue with the Goddess. If the bond formed under Her light, then Her will is clear.”
• Another Elder added quietly, “The girl belongs to the Nightfang Alpha by right of the mark.”
• The crowd broke into whispers—shocked, curious, afraid. That last sentence landed like a stone in my gut.
• Because she heard it.
• Nysa pushed through the circle of wolves, silver eyes bright against the firelight. Myra was at her shoulder, trying to pull her back, but she came anyway. She stopped halfway between us, barefoot in the dirt, fury radiating off her.
• “Belongs?” she snapped. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
• The Elders fell silent. Ronan’s hand went to the hilt of the dagger at his belt. Kaelen cursed softly under his breath.
• Vorren growled in the back of my mind, low and pleased. She came to us.
• Shut up, I answered, but my pulse betrayed me. The scent of her hit hard—wildflowers and night air tangled with anger. My control slipped for one second, just enough for my claws to twitch before I forced them back.
• Ronan saw it. He stepped in front of her. “If you touch her, Fenwick—”
• I kept my voice calm. “You’ll do what?”
• His jaw clenched. “I’ll burn your damned pack to the ground.”
• “Then try.”
• The crowd gasped. Marris raised a hand. “Enough!”
• Ronan glared past her, straight into me. “You knew. You’ve known since that night.”
• Kaelen turned toward me slowly, disbelief spreading across his face. “Since Silverstrike?” he whispered.
• I didn’t look away from Ronan. “Nine years.”
• Kaelen’s voice was low. “And you kept that to yourself.”
• “Would you have believed me?”
• He didn’t answer. None of them did.
• The Elders began herding the crowd back, barking orders to clear the circle. No one wanted to be caught in the middle if Silverstrike and Nightfang exploded.
• Nysa didn’t move. She was staring at me again, chest rising fast, the silver faint under her skin. She looked like she wanted to deny the whole world.
• Vorren murmured, She fights it.
• So did I.
• Ronan caught her arm and pulled her back. “We’re leaving.”
• She didn’t argue, but her gaze stayed locked on mine until the last second. I could read everything in it—fear, fury, the same confusion that had eaten me alive for years.
• When they were gone, Kaelen let out a long breath. “You realize he’ll come for you.”
• “He already has.”
• “What are you going to do?”
• I watched the trail of smoke curling into the night. “What I always do.”
• “Which is?”
• “Survive.”
• Vorren’s voice rumbled, almost satisfied. Not for long.