Harry stepped over a splintered beam, barely missing the blood-stained boot of a dead raider.
"Seven dead in the west wing. Three in critical condition."
I didn't turn around. My eyes scanned the gouges in the stone right outside Alina's doors. Silverclaw hadn't robbed the treasury. They hadn't gone for the armory.
"What were they lunging for, Garret? Give it to me straight."
"For her, Alpha. A quarter of the squad fell in this hallway. The rest only retreated when they realized the passage was blocked by you personally."
"They knew the layout. They knew where she was being held."
I ran a finger along a deep groove in the doorframe. Claw marks. Wild, suicidal fury. This wasn't a raid for provisions. This was an attempted extraction of valuable cargo.
"Garret, double the guard. If even a mouse slips through to her doors without my knowledge, your head will decorate these gates."
"But the pack... the people are frightened."
"Let them fear me. Execute your orders."
The council hall met me with the smell of smoke and cold condemnation. My father sat at the head of the table, gripping the armrests as if they were the only things keeping him from lunging.
"You brought death to our home, Cale."
I didn't sit. I remained standing, looming over the fortification map.
"Silverclaw attacked because they are weak. They are looking for easy prey."
"Easy prey?" Edric rose, his voice creaking like ungreased hinges. "They were after the girl. The entire castle is covered in blood because of one defective omega!"
"She is under my protection."
"She is a curse! Did you see how they fought? They weren't wolves; they were fanatics. Give her to them. Throw her out the gates before they return with reinforcements."
I closed the distance in a single step. A growl rumbled deep in my chest, making the air in the hall vibrate.
"Are you suggesting I give up what is mine?"
"I am suggesting you save the pack! One pup isn't worth the lives of a hundred warriors. Face the truth, son. She is dead weight. Eliminate the problem."
I towered over him, feeling the wolf within straining to get out, baring its fangs.
"Call her a 'problem' one more time, and the council will need a new elder. She stays. Under lock and key. In total isolation."
"You've lost your mind..."
"The guard at her door answers only to me. Anyone who comes within ten paces is a corpse. Meeting adjourned."
The door to her chambers gave way with a heavy groan. Alina sat on the floor, huddled in the corner between the bed and the wall. Her dress was in tatters, her face a pale blur in the dim light.
I approached without trying to soften my step. Every strike of my boot against the stone was meant to hammer home the realization: there was no more safety.
"Stand up."
She flinched, pressing harder into the wall.
"Cale? Are they... are they gone?"
I grabbed her by the chin, forcing her head up. Roughly, enough to leave bruises. My fingers smelled of smoke and someone else's blood.
"Look at me. Are you hurt?"
"I don't... I don't know. There was so much noise. Why were they screaming my name?"
"Shut up."
I tore the collar of her dress, inspecting her shoulders and collarbones. I looked for marks, foreign brands, anything. She trembled, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Why do they want me? Cale, please, tell me!"
I pulled her toward me, crushing her fragile body in a steel grip. Her scent—lavender and fear—hit my head, momentarily drowning out the rage.
"Because you are the only reason this fortress is turning into ruins."
"I didn't do anything!"
"That's the problem. You're a walking target."
I shoved her back onto the carpet.
"From now on, you do not leave this room. Food will be brought under escort. The windows will be barred with iron."
"You're making me a prisoner?"
"I'm making you alive."
I walked out without looking back at her sobs. The metal bolt outside clanged with a final chord. Now she was in a cage. In my cage.
Damian's room met me with silence and the scent of expensive perfume, which now felt like the stench of decay. The traitor had left in style, taking only the essentials.
I slammed the desk, splintering the oak top into shards.
"Where are you, you rat..."
The wolf within stirred. A faint trail. A foreign, barely perceptible scent hidden behind the heavy tapestry bearing our pack's crest. I ripped the fabric away, tearing it down along with the mountings. A niche was revealed behind it.
A small box of dark wood. No lock. Damian had been too confident in his safety.
Inside was a stack of letters. I unfolded the top one. I would recognize the Silverclaw Alpha's handwriting out of a thousand—sweeping, aggressive letters.
"...deliver her intact. The blood of kings must not be spilled on straw. Once the 'true heiress' is in our hands, Cale's power will crumble to dust. Ancient blood is the key to uniting all packs under our banner."
The paper crunched in my fingers. Blood of kings.
"An Omega..." I exhaled, staring into the void. "You have no idea who you are."
The letter confirmed Isabelle's ravings. Alina wasn't a mistake of nature. She was an ancient artifact, a living key to the throne that every Alpha on the continent dreamed of. And my cousin knew it. He was going to sell her like a breeding mare to buy himself a place at Silverclaw's right hand.
I fished a still-smoldering coal from the fireplace and threw it into the box. The flames hungrily bit into the parchment, devouring the evidence.
"No one must know."
If Edric learned of her value, he wouldn't just want to hand her over—he would use her as a bargaining chip, destroying what remained of her will. If the pack found out, they would tear her apart trying to get even a drop of that power.
I watched the gray ash swirl in the air.
Now I couldn't even trust the walls of my own castle. Garret is loyal, but to what limit? Edric is my father, but the pack matters more to him than blood.
I walked to the broken window. A cold wind hit my face, bringing the scent of the coming storm. A full moon hung over the forest, cold and indifferent.
My hand instinctively rested on the hilt of my sword.
She wasn't just a mate. She was my only chance to keep this world from falling apart. Or my shortest path to the scaffold.
I gripped the hilt until my knuckles ached.
"Now you are truly mine alone, Alina. And I will burn this world to the ground before I let anyone peer into your cage."
Somewhere below, in the shadows of the courtyard, a figure flickered. Spies? Or just the ghosts of my own madness? It no longer mattered.
The war was only beginning, and in this war, my Omega had no allies except for her jailer.