The Mercy of Wolves

Chapter 8: The Mercy of Wolves

“Mercy is not weakness, Mira. It is the sharpest blade of all—because only the strong can afford to sheathe it.”

My claws sank into his chest.

The Alpha of Silvermoon gasped, his back slamming against the cracked bone pillar. His eyes—cold, dead, calculating—were now wide with terror. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, staining his pristine white collar.

I held him there, pinned against the ancient stone, my silver-furred claws buried in his expensive suit. My wolf was screaming in my head, demanding I tear him apart. Demanding I rip out his throat and watch the light fade from his treacherous eyes.

He killed my mother. He burned my home. He bruised my skin for five years.

My claws trembled. A guttural growl rumbled from my chest, vibrating through the cavern.

"Please," he wheezed, his voice cracking. "Please, Mira. I—I can give you information. I can tell you who else is on the Council. I can—"

"You can beg," I snarled. "That's all you've ever been good at. Begging for power. Begging for approval. Begging for your life."

His fingers clawed at my wrist, desperately trying to pry me off. But my strength was inhuman. The Primordial blood was surging through my veins like molten silver, amplifying every muscle, every nerve, every instinct.

"I raised you," he gasped. "I fed you. I gave you a—"

"You gave me a leash," I spat. "You gave me bruises. You gave me nightmares. And you gave me the ashes of my parents' home."

I leaned in, my face inches from his. My eyes were burning—I could feel it, the silver glow radiating from my pupils like twin stars. My breath came out as steam, hot and dangerous.

"Tell me one thing," I whispered. "Did my mother beg?"

His eyes flickered. For a fraction of a second, I saw the mask slip. I saw the guilt. The shame. The fear.

"No," he whispered. "She didn't. She looked me in the eye and smiled. She said, 'My daughter will avenge me.' "

A tear slipped down my cheek. Hot. Raging.

And then I pulled my claws back.

I released him.

He collapsed to the bone floor, gasping, clutching his bleeding chest. I stepped back, my silver-furred hands trembling at my sides. My wolf howled in protest, furious that I had denied her the kill.

But the King's voice echoed in my mind, soft and ancient.

Mercy is not weakness, Mira. It is the sharpest blade of all.

I looked down at the Alpha, curled at my feet like a beaten dog. He stared up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock, fear, and—beneath it all—respect. For the first time in five years, he wasn't looking at me like a servant.

He was looking at me like an equal.

Maybe even like a superior.

"Why?" he rasped. "Why didn't you kill me?"

I lifted my chin. The silver fur began to recede, retreating into my skin like a tide pulling back from the shore. My hands returned to human form, but the memory of the claws lingered, a phantom ache in my knuckles.

"Because killing you would make me a murderer," I said quietly. "And I am not like you. I am not a monster who preys on the innocent."

He laughed—a broken, hollow sound. "You are not innocent, Mira. You are a Primordial. Your blood is tainted with a power that could destroy the world. You are the most dangerous creature alive."

"And yet," the King's voice echoed, smooth and cold, "she is the one who spared you. What does that say about you, old wolf?"

The Alpha flinched. He turned his head, glaring at the King with contempt. "You're dead. You have no say in this world."

"Perhaps not," the King replied, his golden eyes gleaming. "But she is alive. And she has just proven that she is more worthy of the throne than your entire Council."

I looked down at the Alpha. My bleeding palm throbbed. My body ached. But deep in my chest, the hollow was no longer empty. It was filled with something new. Something fierce.

Power.

"Get up," I said.

He stared at me. "What?"

"Get up. Walk out of these catacombs. And tell the Council what you saw today."

His eyes narrowed. "You're letting me go?"

"I'm giving you a message," I said coldly. "Tell them the maid is dead. Tell them the Primordial Queen has risen. And tell them that if they come for me again, I will not be so merciful."

The Alpha hesitated. Then, slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet. He clutched his chest, his blood dripping between his fingers. He looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before.

Fear.

"You will regret this," he whispered.

"Probably," I said. "But regret is better than becoming a monster."

He turned and walked toward the staircase. His steps were slow, heavy, dragging. He climbed the stone steps, one by one, until his silhouette disappeared into the darkness above.

The library door creaked open.

And then it slammed shut.

Silence.

The cavern was still. The blue torches flickered, casting long shadows across the bone pillars. My legs gave out.

I collapsed to my knees, gasping, my whole body shaking violently. The adrenaline drained out of me like water from a cracked vessel, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion and raw, bleeding wounds.

The King walked toward me. His footsteps were silent, ghostly. He knelt beside me, his cold hand pressing gently against my back.

"You did well," he said softly. "You controlled the wolf. You stayed human."

"I wanted to kill him," I whispered. "I wanted to rip his throat out so badly I could taste it."

"But you didn't."

"Because you told me not to." I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. "Why? Why do you care what happens to me?"

The King's golden eyes softened. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.

"Because I have been watching you for a hundred years, Mira. I watched your mother grow. I watched her fall in love. I watched her die. And I have watched you survive—against all odds, against all cruelty." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You are not just a weapon. You are not just a Queen. You are my legacy. And I refuse to let the Council turn you into a villain."

I stared at him, my heart aching. "What do I do now?"

He stood, offering me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet.

"Now," he said, "you heal. You train. And when the blood moon rises, you will walk into the gala with your head held high. You will face Elena Ashford. You will expose her crimes. And you will claim what is rightfully yours."

I looked up at the staircase, dark and silent above me.

"The Alpha will warn the Council. They'll come for me."

"Let them." The King smiled—a cold, ancient smile. "They are not hunting a maid anymore, Mira. They are hunting a Queen."

I clutched my bleeding palm, feeling the silver dagger's warmth in my pocket.

The game had changed.

And I was no longer a pawn.

[END OF CHAPTER 8]

Next Chapter Teaser:

I walk back into the academy with blood on my hands and a crown in my heart. But the three Apex Alphas are waiting for me in the main hall. They saw the Alpha of Silvermoon leave the library, wounded and broken. And now, they want to know exactly what happened in the dark. The interrogation begins—and secrets are about to bleed.