LOGINI clawed my way back to consciousness through layers of darkness, each one heavier than the last. My mouth tasted of metal and ash, my tongue a foreign object too large for my jaw. Something cold and hard pressed against my cheek—concrete, my mind supplied distantly. I tried to move and regretted it immediately as pain lanced through my body, wolfsbane still burning in my veins like liquid silver. The thin blanket scratched against my naked skin as I forced my eyes open, the world swimming into a blurry focus of gray walls and iron bars.
Prison. Cell. Captive.
The words formed slowly in my mind, disconnected from meaning until reality crashed back like a wave. I had been running. I had been free. Then the rogues with their wolfsbane darts, their rancid breath, their hands on my skin…
I pushed myself upright, ignoring the protest of muscles not yet recovered from forced shifting. The blanket—more a rag than proper covering—slipped to my waist. I clutched it back over my chest, a useless gesture toward modesty in a situation that had stripped me of everything else.
Four bodies lay sprawled on the concrete floor around me, unmoving but for the shallow rise and fall of their chests. The rogues. My captors. Now, apparently, my fellow prisoners. One had a nasty gash across his forehead, crusted with dried blood. Another's arm bent at an unnatural angle. All wore the same vacant expression of drugged unconsciousness I had likely worn moments before.
"What the hell?" I whispered, voice scraping raw from my throat.
The cell was maybe twelve feet square, three concrete walls and one made of thick steel bars. Beyond, a narrow corridor stretched in both directions, lit by buzzing fluorescent lights that cast everything in a sickly pallor. No windows. No hint of whether it was day or night, or how long I'd been unconscious.
‘Athena?’ I called internally, reaching for the familiar presence of my wolf. Only silence answered, her consciousness still buried beneath layers of wolfsbane. I was alone in my own head for the first time since she'd awakened.
I swore under my breath, colourful curses Lily had taught me when no one was listening. We'd gone from the frying pan directly into the inferno. Free of Silver Lake only to be captured by rogues, then captured again by... who? The cell looked too clean, too official to be another rogue camp.
A sound drew my attention—boots on concrete, approaching with measured steps. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, painfully aware of my nakedness, my vulnerability. A man appeared outside the bars, his crisp black uniform marking him as something official. A guard. Not Silver Lake—their guards wore navy with silver trim—but something similar. Behind him, another guard stood at a slight distance, hand resting on the taser at his belt.
"The female's awake," the first guard called over his shoulder, not bothering to address me directly.
I pushed myself up further, wincing as my bare feet touched the cold floor. "Where am I?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears—too high, too frightened.
The guard's eyes swept over me with clinical detachment. "Prisoner holding. Royal City."
The Royal City. My heart stuttered. I'd run north, straight into the territory of the Alpha King himself. Of all places to be captured, this was the worst possible outcome.
"There's been a mistake," I said, taking a step toward the bars, then stopping as the second guard's hand moved to his weapon. "I'm not with them. They captured me in the forest. Used wolfsbane darts to force my shift. I was running from—" I stopped, unsure how to explain my situation without admitting I'd fled my pack, a serious offense in its own right.
"Save it for your trial," the first guard said, boredom evident in his tone. He'd clearly heard every possible story from desperate prisoners.
"You don't understand," I insisted, desperation clawing at my throat. "I'm from Silver Lake Pack. These rogues attacked me. You can contact Alpha Marcus Blackwood—" The lie tasted bitter, but I needed someone, anyone to believe me.
The guard exchanged a glance with his partner. Something like amusement passed between them.
"Silver Lake, huh?" The second guard stepped closer, studying me with newfound interest. "That's what the last one said too. Must be your pack's new defense strategy."
"The last—? No, I'm telling the truth!" I clutched the bars, the metal cold beneath my fingers. "Please, just contact them. Ask for—" I faltered. Who would vouch for me? Not Marcus or Elena, who had cast me out. Not Alexander, who had rejected me. Lily? A servant's word would hold no weight.
The first guard sighed, reaching for something on his belt. A syringe filled with amber liquid gleamed under the harsh lights. "Female's getting agitated. Standard procedure."
"No!" I backed away from the bars, bumping into one of the unconscious rogues. He groaned but didn't wake. "I'm not agitated. I'm trying to explain. They drugged me. I'm not one of them!"
The cell door unlocked with an ominous clank. Both guards entered, expressions impassive as they advanced on me.
"Please," I whispered, backing against the wall, nowhere left to retreat. "Please don't."
The second guard grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back with practiced efficiency. I struggled, but the wolfsbane still in my system had weakened me, and his grip was like iron.
"Typical rogue," the first guard muttered, tapping the syringe to remove air bubbles. "Always someone else's fault. Always a mistake." He found a vein in my exposed arm and slid the needle in without gentleness.
Fire spread from the injection site, racing through my veins with familiar agony. Wolfsbane again, stealing what little strength I'd recovered.
"I'm not..." The words slurred as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision. "Not a rogue..."
The last thing I saw before consciousness slipped away was the guard's indifferent face as he stepped back, duty completed, problem solved.
"Sweet dreams, prisoner," he said, voice fading as the drug pulled me under. "Better save your stories for the Alpha King. He'll be your judge, jury, and executioner soon enough."
Then there was nothing but darkness once more.
When Amelia’s presence closed on the other side of the bond, Ares howled.Not aloud. The sound existed entirely in the space behind my sternum, the internal register he used when something happened that he could not act on. I had felt her concern in the half-second before she shut the connection, a sharp bright edge of it that she hadn’t fully managed to contain, and the words she had sent before closing it sat in the front of my mind with the weight of things said because you are not certain there will be another opportunity.I turned it into focus, the way Ares always did with things he couldn’t change. I put the connection in a place I could access later and gave my attention back to the western forest, where there was enough in front of me to require all of it.The trees here were different from the eastern forest - older, closer together, the canopy too thick for moonlight to come through in any useful way. We were fighting by scent and sound and the occasional brea
A mile of forest is a different kettle of fish entirely when you have four paws and the trees were lit blood-red.The canopy caught the moon’s colour and threw it back in fragments, and the world smelled of pine and cold earth and the sharp, entirely distinct scent of wolves who hadn’t come here with any ambiguity about their intentions. Athena knew the difference between pack wolves and rogues the way she knew the difference between rain and seawater: not identical, not even close, and worth noticing immediately.We knew before we saw them.Five rogues materialised from the dark between two ancient pines, mid-stride and committed, and Athena was already moving before the conscious part of me had processed the shape of them. That was the thing I had been learning to trust: she didn’t think in those first seconds. She reacted, copper and fast and utterly sure of herself, and what came after was not violence so much as purpose moving through a body built for exactly this.
The hour had a unique quality to it. Not slow, not really, but loaded.The way time gets when you are tracking too many things at once and your mind starts filing each piece against the others, building a picture you don’t want to see finished. Three more contacts to the south. Two to the west. Each one dealt with, each one a door closed. I stood at the window and watched the city and counted what I knew and what I didn’t.The reports kept coming. Dominic updated the board in the precise, unhurried script he used for intelligence documents. Nico managed the mental traffic with the focused quiet of a man running multiple conversations through a mental switchboard. Amelia sat with the stillness of someone whose stillness was active, cataloguing everything, her eyes moving between the board and the window and the map with the rhythm of a mind already three steps ahead.She had the colour in her cheeks that meant she was managing something, the pale determination that had replaced the pal
The moon had not yet risen, but we could all feel it coming.Two hours out, and the air in the office had taken on a density that had nothing to do with the fire in the grate or the number of people in the room. Nico stood at the whiteboard with his arms folded across his chest, studying the map the way a man looks at something he has memorised and is looking at anyway. Dominic sat at the corner of the desk with the stillness of someone who had spent decades waiting for bad news to arrive and had made peace with the waiting.Lukas stood at the window. He had been standing there for the best part of twenty minutes, watching the city below with his hands clasped behind his back, and the set of his shoulders told me more than his face did.I sat in the chair nearest the desk and tried to keep my mind on the open channels rather than the clock.The mind-link traffic had been running all day. Not the ordinary flow of a palace at work - this was tighter, more targeted, the constant quiet dr
Sleep had been a polite fiction I’d maintained until around three in the morning, and a losing battle from there.I lay in the dark with my eyes open and the ceiling doing nothing useful above me, listening to the palace at its quietest hour. The building had its own language in the small hours: the breath of the ventilation, the distant step of a guard changing shift, the way stone carried sound differently when there was no ambient noise left to absorb it. I had learned that language over weeks of lying awake beside Lukas, cataloguing the hours before dawn with the thoroughness of a former servant who had never quite learned to trust sleep completely.The space beside me had been empty for a while. Long enough for the sheets to cool on his side. Long enough for me to register his absence without being certain when it happened, which meant I had drifted off at some point and woken gradually rather than suddenly. I lay there another ten minutes, honest with myself, then admitted that
I saw her sit down before I fully registered the movement. That was the thing about watching someone recover from something that had nearly killed them. Your body developed its own early warning system, cataloguing every small deviation from normal with a thoroughness that had nothing to do with choice.She sat carefully, the way she had for the past few days. Economical. Controlled. Managing something that was taking more of her attention than she wanted to admit. Her hand went to her stomach. She probably did not notice she had done it.“Do you still feel unwell?” I asked.She looked up from the map, and I caught the flicker of calculation in her expression: the half-second assessment of whether to deflect. “A bit,” she said, which from Amelia translated to considerably more than that. We both knew it.“Perhaps you should go back to bed,” I said, and knew even as the words formed that they were a mistake.She t
I picked at my breakfast, appetite diminished by the knot of tension in my stomach. In five hours, I would meet the wolf who wanted me dead. The private dining room felt unnaturally quiet despite the presence of Lukas beside me and Dominic and Nico seated across from us, their expressions grave a
I watched, every muscle in my body coiled tight as a spring, as Nico suddenly moved toward Amelia. Three days of knowing she was training with my best fighters had done nothing to ease the knot in my gut. Ares paced within my mind, his golden presence radiating protective fury. 'Stop them,' he ur
I sat rigid on my throne, the silver filigree of my crown catching the harsh light of the throne room. Three days had passed since we'd liberated Silver Lake, three days of testimonies, evidence collection, and preparation. Now seven wolves knelt before us, their hands bound in silver chains that
I descended the worn stone steps to the dungeon level, satisfied that Amelia would be occupied with Lily for at least the next few hours. Their drinks in the garden had become animated, with Lily's health improving enough that she matched my mate glass for glass. Good. This was not something Amel







