Chapter Nine — until today
1344 Words
(Idris’s POV)
One year.
Three hundred and sixty-five days since Blood Moon burned.
Three hundred and sixty-five mornings of waking with the same weight pressing against my ribs not pain, not exactly. Something heavier. Something that did not bleed but would not heal.
At first, I asked the Moon for answers.
After the hundredth sunrise with none…
I stopped asking.
I started demanding.
Silver Claw changed because of that fire.
Or maybe it changed because I refused to let the ashes settle.
Spies were sent everywhere.
Rogue territories that reeked of lawlessness. Border towns where coin mattered more than honor. Black markets trading in things that should never have names. Mercenary roads where blades were hired cheaper than bread. Even inside allied packs whose loyalty felt rehearsed.
If rumors breathed, we chased them.
If whispers stirred, we followed.
Saadun barely slept. I don’t think I did either.
He stood across from me in the war chamber one night, maps layered over maps, ink smudged where his fingers had pressed too long.
“If they breathe,” he said, jaw tight, “we’ll hear about it.”
Indra stirred inside me, restless, pacing the cage of my bones.
We will smell her before we see her.
I didn’t know how he could be certain.
We didn’t know who we were searching for.
But Indra did not search for “girls.”
He searched for something singular.
Someone.
The council grew weary.
“Enough resources have been spent,” an elder snapped during one gathering. “Our borders weaken while you chase ghosts.”
I stood slowly.
“They were taken from our land,” I said. “Under our sky. While we lived comfortably.”
Silence followed.
“They are ours,” I continued. “Until they are returned… or buried properly.”
My father watched me carefully from the head of the table.
He did not interrupt.
When the chamber emptied, he said only one thing:
“You sound like an Alpha.”
I didn’t feel like one.
I felt like a man chasing shadows that refused to take shape.
---
Last night, I dreamed again.
Not of fire.
Of darkness.
A vast, breathing darkness beneath stone.
And inside it
A flicker.
Not fading.
Not weak.
---
The Messenger came at midday.
I was in the training yard with Saadun, steel ringing against steel, when the signal rippled through the pack link.
Not danger.
Priority.
High command.
Every muscle in my body stilled.
Footsteps pounded across stone.
One of our outer-network spies burst through the gates, dust clinging to his cloak, eyes wild but sharp.
He didn’t bow.
Didn’t greet.
He came straight to me.
“Alpha Heir,” he said, breath uneven. “We found something.”
The world narrowed.
“Where?” Saadun demanded.
“Two territories east of Black Ridge. Near an abandoned quarry. Underground structure. Guarded. Organized.”
Indra surged.
I told you.
“How many?” I asked.
“more than twenty. But we confirmed… girls.”
My pulse thundered.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
For the first time in a year
My hands trembled.
---
The chamber was lit by torchlight and shadow.
Alpha Ibrahim Claws sat at the head of the carved oak table, Silver Claw’s crest rising behind him like a silent witness.
He ruled.
I stood at his right.
Not yet Alpha.
But no longer merely son.
The spy knelt in the center, travel-worn and steady despite exhaustion.
“Speak,” Alpha Ibrahim start
“we followed the slavers’ supply trail beyond Black Ridge,” the spy began. “Heavy wagons arriving under night cover. No pack markings. Paid mercenaries.”
“How did you confirm habitation?” Ibrahim asked.
“Fresh tracks. Guard rotations. Smoke from hidden vents.”
“Entrances?” I pressed.
“The quarry floor has a visible lift cage rarely used. The true entrance is a concealed tunnel along the western rock face.”
“How many guards?”
“Six on the rim. Two at the hidden tunnel. More below.”
“Below?” my father asked.
The spy inhaled slowly.
“we gained entry once, disguised as hired transport.”
Murmurs spread.
“There are holding chambers,” he continued. “Iron doors. Girls separated by age.”
“How many?”
“At least twenty.”
A chill settled in the room.
“Condition?” Ibrahim asked.
“Alive. Fed. Observed.”
Observed.
Indra growled low.
“They test them when they come of age,” the spy said quietly. “Ritual trials. Those who fail are executed.”
The torches seemed dimmer.
“When?” I asked.
“In three nights. A gathering. Important figures arriving.”
A slaughter disguised as ceremony.
My father leaned back, eyes sharp.
“Inner defenses?”
“Disciplined. Not wild rogues. Organized under one commander.”
“Traps?”
“Tunnels layered with ash and bitter herbs to confuse scent. Torches extinguished to blind intruders.”
They hide her scent.
I felt Indra’s fury like heat.
alpha Ibrahim’s gaze turned to me.
“You have heard.”
“Yes.”
“Present your proposal.”
---
The War Room smelled of ink and old battles Leather maps stretched across the long table.
We circled it like hunters studying prey.
“We do not attack from the rim,” I said.
Saadun nodded. “Too exposed.”
“We enter through the concealed tunnel.”
“Units?” Alpha Ibrahim asked.
“Three.”
I traced the route.
“Unit One eliminates outer guards before moonrise. Silent. No alarm.”
“Unit Two secures the rim once chaos begins.”
“And Unit Three?” Ibrahim’s eyes were steady.
“Extraction team. With me.”
The room stilled.
“The tunnels are narrow,” I explained. “If the girls panic, they must scent stability. Alpha blood calms.”
It was truth, not pride.
“And the commander?”Alpha Ibrahim asked.
“I engage him.”
Saadun’s voice cut in. “Signal?”
“Three hawk calls from the western ridge.”
“Retreat path?”
“Same tunnel. Horses hidden beyond the tree line. If blocked, we climb the eastern face.”
The elders exchanged glances.
Risky.
“All rescues are,” I said evenly.
My father rose.
When Alpha Ibrahim stands, the room listens.
“Silver Claw rides before dawn,” he declared.
Steel shifted.
Breaths sharpened.
“By my order.”
He looked at me not as father, but as Alpha.
“You will command the strike. Strategy approved.”
His voice hardened.
“This is not conquest.”
His gaze swept the chamber.
“It is retrieval.”
For one year, we hunted rumors.
Tonight, we hunt certainty.
And beneath stone and ash
Twenty girls wait.
And perhaps
One of them feels the same pull that claws at my ribs.
---
Salma intercepted me near the outer courtyard, banners snapping in the evening wind.
“You’re riding out,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Because of a scout’s report.”
“It’s more than that.”
“It’s always more than that.”
Her voice wasn’t loud.
“You are not crowned yet,” she continued. “If something happens to you before the ceremony, the council fractures. Other packs circle weakness.”
“If those girls are alive,” I replied, stepping closer, “they are living each hour we stand here debating.”
“And if this is bait?”
Indra bristled.
This is not bait.
Salma studied my face.
“You’ve changed,” she whispered.
“I hesitated once,” I answered. “Blood Moon burned.”
Silence passed between us.
“You can’t save everyone,” she said.
“No,” I agreed. “But I can try.”
She stepped aside slowly.
“If you return victorious,” she said, “Silver Claw will never question your crown.”
“And if I don’t return?”
Her jaw tightened.
“Then we bury a future before it begins.”
- Writer
