Kael's POV
The reports are bad and getting worse.
I sit in my office with maps spread across the desk when Owen bursts through the door without knocking. That tells me everything I need to know. My Beta does not break protocol unless something is seriously wrong.
"Southern border," Owen says and his voice is tight. "Organized rogue attack. Multiple coordinated strikes. This is not random, Kael. Someone planned this."
I am already moving. Already grabbing my weapons. Already feeling my wolf rise to the surface, hungry for violence.
"How many?" I ask.
"At least forty. Maybe more. They are disciplined. They fight like they have actual training."
Forty rogues do not organize themselves. Someone is funding them. Someone is directing them. Someone is testing my borders and my patience at the same time.
I tell Owen to mobilize the pack. Every warrior who can fight needs to be ready within minutes. I am not going to let some rogue army tear through my territory while I sit in an office reviewing paperwork.
The ride to the southern border takes twenty minutes. Twenty minutes too long. The rogues have already breached our outer defenses by the time we arrive. The battle is chaos. Blood and screams and the sound of wolves transforming mid-fight.
I shift into my wolf form and unleash everything I have been holding back. My claws find throats. My teeth find flesh. These rogues are skilled but they are not Shadowpeak. They are not trained by me.
They fall.
But something is wrong.
In the middle of the battle, I notice a group of rogues breaking away from the main assault. They are moving fast and with purpose. They are not trying to fight. They are trying to get somewhere.
They are moving toward the fortress.
Toward the Luna's wing.
Rage floods through me like nothing I have ever felt before. Someone is targeting my bride. Someone is using this attack as a distraction. Someone knows that I would leave the fortress to handle a border assault and they planned to reach her while I was gone.
I roar and the sound echoes across the valley.
I transform back into my human form and grab Owen's shoulder. "Finish this," I command. "Kill them all. Do not let a single one escape."
Owen nods like he understands without needing explanation.
I run.
I have never moved faster in my life. My legs burn. My lungs scream. The fortress is still miles away but I run anyway. I run like something precious is being taken from me. I run like I cannot live with the thought of failing to protect what is mine.
The Luna's wing comes into view and I hear the sounds of battle inside. Metal clashing. Snarls. Screams.
I burst through the doors and shift partially, letting my claws extend and my eyes glow gold.
I find her standing over three dead rogue bodies.
Alina is breathing hard, blood splattered across her pale dress. A bloody knife hangs from her right hand. And her eyes are not the soft grey I barely remember from the wedding. Her eyes are gold and fierce and completely inhuman. Her eyes are the eyes of a warrior.
For a moment, I cannot move. Cannot think. Cannot do anything but stare at the wife I have ignored for three weeks like she is suddenly a stranger.
She looks at me and for just a second, her expression flickers with something like fear. Then her mask slides back into place and her shoulders hunch and her eyes drop.
But I saw it. I saw who she really is.
I step closer and she flinches away from me, still holding the bloody knife like she might need it again.
"Who are you really?" The words come out in a voice that does not sound like mine. A voice that sounds dangerous.
Alina's hands are shaking. She drops the knife like it burned her and hugs herself. "I was scared," she says and her voice is small again, meek again, the perfect submissive bride. "I heard them coming. I grabbed a knife. I just got lucky."
It is a lie and we both know it.
A girl does not fight off three trained rogues by accident. A girl does not move with that kind of precision and skill unless she has been training. A girl does not have eyes that burn gold unless she is holding back something massive beneath her skin.
I step closer and she steps back, fear and something else flickering across her face.
"You are not what you pretend to be," I say and I make it a statement not a question.
She meets my eyes for just a moment and in that moment, I see her clearly. I see the strength she is hiding. I see the intelligence she is burying. I see something fierce and dangerous and so carefully concealed that most wolves would never notice.
Then her eyes fill with unshed tears and her body goes limp.
"I am sorry," she whispers. "I did not mean to. They were coming and I could not just let them take me. I could not just die."
The fear is real. The tears are real. But the girl who just stood over three dead bodies like she was born to kill is also real.
I take another step forward slowly, carefully, like she is a wild thing that might bolt. She does not move. She just stands there in her blood-soaked dress with tears running down her face.
My wolf wants to push for answers. Wants to demand the truth. Wants to know exactly what she is hiding and why.
But my Alpha instincts take over instead.
I reach out slowly and she flinches but does not run. I check her for injuries with careful hands. There is blood on her but it is not hers. She is shaking but not from fear. She is shaking from adrenaline, from the aftermath of violence, from the effort of hiding what she really is.
"Did they hurt you?" I ask and my voice comes out rougher than I intended.
She shakes her head.
"Did they touch you?"
Another shake.
Something inside me settles slightly. She is not hurt. She is not violated. She is alive and capable and far more dangerous than anyone in this fortress realized.
I make a decision.
"You will have personal guards from now on," I tell her. "My best warriors. You are not to go anywhere without them. You are not to leave this wing without my permission. Do you understand?"
She nods, still not meeting my eyes.
I leave her with servants who know to ask no questions and I storm through the fortress barking orders. Guard detail for the Luna. Immediate. Best warriors only. No exceptions.
By the time I return to my office, Owen is there with reports from the border. All rogues eliminated. No Shadowpeak casualties. A victory.
But I cannot focus on victory.
All I can think about is the girl with gold eyes who stood over three dead rogues like it was nothing. The girl who told me she was just lucky. The girl who is not what she pretends to be and who I have absolutely no idea how to handle.
I pour whiskey with hands that are still shaking from the run back to the fortress. From the fear that I would not reach her in time. From the shock of seeing her revealed.
Owen enters without knocking again and watches me with those assessing eyes.
"Your wife," he says carefully. "Something about her does not add up."
I look at him and say nothing. Because if I start talking about Alina right now, I might say something that reveals the truth. That I barely know her. That I have been ignoring her for three weeks. That I left her alone in the Luna's wing with only servants to protect her.
That when I saw her standing over those dead rogues, something shifted inside me. Something that has nothing to do with duty or responsibility and everything to do with a woman who is not what she seems.
"Set a guard rotation," I tell Owen instead. "Personal guards for the Luna. Rotate them every four hours. No one gets close to her."
Owen nods but his eyes are asking questions I cannot answer.
When he leaves, I return to my office and sit alone in the darkness. I pull out the Moonvale Investigation file without meaning to.
Inside is that photograph. The girl from years ago. The one I have been searching for. The one with storm grey eyes and fierce determination.
The one who looks nothing like the forgettable bride I married.
Except when she is standing over dead rogues with gold eyes blazing.
Except in that moment when her mask slipped and I saw who she really was underneath.