chapter 6
870 Words
Chapter Six: The Alpha’s Shadow
The full moon was two nights away.
Cassian Blackmoor stood at the heart of his private estate—an ancient cathedral turned war room. Candles flickered in long, golden rows. Shadows danced along stained-glass windows depicting forgotten wolves and blood-soaked victories.
At the center of the altar stood a stone basin, filled with dark water and obsidian dust. A crescent-shaped flame flickered above it, fed by no fuel, sustained by power alone.
Cassian dipped two fingers into the bowl. The flame hissed.
“She’s close,” he murmured.
Lucien stood at his side, eyes tight with conflict. “She’s stronger than you think.”
Cassian turned, slow and deliberate. “Then it’s good that I’m prepared.”
He took a sudden break with his fingers.
A figure wrapped in red robes appear. A Seer. The Blackmoors’ secret weapon.
“She carries the old blood,” the Seer rasped. “But it sleeps. If you mark her before it wakes, she becomes yours. Forever.”
“And if it wakes before then?” Cassian asked.
The Seer hesitated. “She may not let you mark her.”
Cassian smiled coldly. “Then we’ll rip it from her the old-fashioned way.”
Lucien’s fists clenched. “She’s not a weapon.”
Cassian stepped close, nose to nose. “She’s a tool. And tools don’t get choices.”
Lucien didn’t respond. But something inside him shifted. A fracture.
Elsewhere, in the darkened forest beyond Raven Hollow, Ayla and Riven moved fast. He had insisted on teaching her the old ways—how to track without being tracked, how to shift the energy in her limbs, how to control the burn that now simmered under her skin.
“Focus on your breathing,” Riven said, standing behind her, palms lightly on her shoulders. “Not your fear. Not the past. Just… your breath.”
Ayla stood still, eyes closed. At first, she heard nothing but wind and the chirp of insects. But slowly, her senses expanded. She heard a beetle crawling under bark. The pulse of a deer two hundred feet away. The steady heartbeat of the man behind her.
And something else—deeper. Hidden. A threatening sound inside her own chest.
“I can hear it,” she said. “Something… old.”
“That’s your wolf,” Riven said softly. “She’s waking.”
Alya opened her eyes. They shimmered gold.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“i expect you to be,” he said. “Shifting for the first time is agony.”
“Will I lose myself?”
He looked away. “The first time I changed… I tore apart my brother.”
Ayla’s heart dropped. “What?”
“He was trying to help. Hold me down. But I wasn’t me. I was teeth and fury. After that, my father chained me in the forest every full moon until I learned to control it.”
“You are not going to let that happen to me.” she asked?
“No,” he said.
Night fell hard and fast. Ayla’s dreams were thick with blood and moonlight. She saw herself running—barefoot, wild, the taste of iron on her tongue. She saw fire. A blade. A symbol carved into her skin. And through it all, she heard a voice calling her name.
She woke up breathing quickly.
Riven was sitting at the edge of the bed, with knife in his hands. “Someone’s outside.”
Ayla without wasting much time. She wore her boots, carried the silver dagger he has given to her earlier, and followed him down the fire escape.
They hit the alley just as a shadow moved through the mist.
Lucien.
“Wait!” Ayla hissed, stepping between them.
Riven growled low in his throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Lucien raised his hands. “I came alone.”
“Sure,” Riven snapped. “Because Blackmoors are known for their honesty.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“You want her for yourself.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Maybe. But I’d never force her. I’m not my father.”
Ayla stepped forward. “Why are you really here, Lucien?”
He looked at her—earnest, aching. “Because once Cassian marks you, it’s over. I can’t let that happen. If you’ll come with me now, I can take you to someone who knows how to break the ritual.”
“Break it?” Riven asked sharply. “That’s impossible.”
“No,” Lucien said. “It’s forbidden. That’s not the same thing.”
Riven hesitated.
Ayla’s voice cut through the tension. “Where would you take me?”
“To the remnants of the Red Thorns,” Lucien said. “A pack your kind protected. They owe the Duskborn their lives. If anyone can teach you how to resist the bond—it’s them.”
Silence stretched between the three.
Then Ayla nodded. “Let’s go.”
In the dead of night, the three of them ran. Through alleyways and sewer grates, old roads hidden beneath the city.
Cassian’s wolves were already hunting.
By dawn, Ayla would either be free—or claimed.
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