Chapter 9-From the past
1310 Words
Silas didn't let go of my wrist until we were back inside the master suite, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind us with a force that shook the stone walls. The moment the lock clicked, he spun me around, pinning my back against the dark wood. His massive frame shadowed me completely, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged hitches.
"Who is he?" Silas demanded, his voice a low, gravelly snarl that rattled right through my ribs. He brought his face down, his amber eyes flashing with a blind, volatile jealousy that completely drowned out his usual Alpha composure. "How do you know a Blackwood commander by his first name, Elena? Answer me!"
"He’s my past, Silas," I said, my voice smooth and flat against his chaotic fury. I looked straight into his eyes, refusing to give him the fear he was desperate to see. "The past you thought you could bury when you dragged me into the dirt and called me trash."
"I don't give a damn about the past!" he roared, his hands coming up to slam against the door on either side of my head. The raw power of his aura washed over me, heavy with the scent of burnt woodsmoke and cedar, but it didn't make me flinch. "You carry *my* mark. Your scent is buried in my sheets. You belong to the Silver Moon—you belong to me!"
"I belong to no one," I whispered, leaning forward until my chest pressed against his rigid muscle. "You took what you wanted because you had the strength to force it. But look at your hands, Alpha. They’re shaking."
Silas blinked, his pupils blowing wide as he looked down. His fingers were trembling against the wood. It wasn't from fear of my army; it was the sheer, terrifying realization that the mate bond wasn't just a chain he had wrapped around my neck—it was a noose he had tied around his own. He was hopelessly, viciously consumed by a girl he had spent years trying to break.
Before he could speak, a sharp, frantic knocking rattled the door behind my back.
"Alpha!" the Beta’s voice shouted from the corridor, thick with panic. "The Blackwood soldiers... they aren't retreating. They’ve completely surrounded the perimeter walls. They’re setting up camp inside our borders, and Julian is demanding to see the pack registries!"
Silas stepped back an inch, his jaw locking so tight the bone looked ready to snap. He stared at me, his eyes a toxic mix of dark possessiveness and a sudden, heartbreaking realization that his absolute rule over this pack was slipping through his fingers.
"Stay here," he ordered, his voice dropping into a rough, breathless rasp. He reached out, his thumb dragging roughly over the raw skin of my neck where his bite sat. "Don't go near him, Elena. If I see him touch you, I will start a war that burns both our bloodlines to ash."
He turned and tore the door open, his heavy boots echoing down the stone hallway as he went to defend his crumbling kingdom.
I stood in the quiet of the room, the silk of the silver gown heavy against my skin. Slowly, I walked over to the tall glass windows, watching the campfires of the Blackwood elite ignite in the dark forest below. The silver lines beneath my skin throbbed with a cold, absolute clarity.
Silas thought he was fighting for his pack. He had no idea that the real battle was already over, and he was just waiting for the executioner to call his name.
The master suite felt smaller now, suffocating with the lingering scent of Silas's furious arousal and the cold, ozone bite of my own awakening power. I didn’t stay by the window. The moment his heavy footsteps faded entirely from the corridor, I slipped out into the shadows of the back stairwell, the heavy silver silk of the gown bunched tightly in my fist so it wouldn't rustle against the stone.
Down in the lower courtyard, away from the roaring campfires of the Blackwood army, the air was freezing.
"You always did know how to move like a ghost," a quiet voice spoke from the darkness of the tree line.
Julian stepped into the faint moonlight, his obsidian armor muted, his helmet resting against his hip. Without the eyes of the pack house on him, the hard, military precision of his posture relaxed, replacing the fierce commander with the boy who used to steal apples from the palace gardens just to see me smile.
"You shouldn't have surrounded the walls, Julian," I said, stepping into the grass, letting the cold dirt soothe my bare feet. "Silas is unhinged right now. His wolf is looking for a reason to bleed."
"Let him try," Julian muttered, his eyes instantly tracking to the jagged mark on my neck. His jaw clenched, a raw, protective anger flashing across his face before he forced himself to look back at my eyes. "Seeing you in his clothes, bearing his brand... it makes my blood boil, El. We’ve spent eighteen years tracking your lineage, fighting through the mud to build an army worthy of your name. You don't have to endure this brute for another second."
He reached out, his large, scarred hand resting gently on my shoulder. His touch was warm, familiar, and completely safe—a striking contrast to the bruising, desperate grip Silas always used to pin me down.
"Come back to the camp," Julian urged, his voice dropping into a fierce, quiet plea. "The commanders are waiting. The moment you step into the center circle, we march into that hall and strip him of everything."
I looked at his hand on my shoulder, then back toward the dark, imposing fortress of the Silver Moon pack house. Inside those walls, Silas was currently tearing his own territory apart, roaring at his elders, desperate to maintain the illusion of his absolute control. He was a tyrant, a monster who had claimed me out of spite—but he was also a man completely bound to my soul by a force neither of us could fight.
"Not yet," I whispered, gently stepping back until Julian’s hand fell away.
Julian’s eyes narrowed, a flash of hurt and deep confusion crossing his features. "Why? You don't owe him anything, Elena. He called you trash in front of the entire territory."
"Because if we slaughter them now, we’re just another army conquering a pack," I said, my voice turning cold, the ancient Blackwood fire hardening my tone until Julian instinctively straightened his spine. "I don't want to just take his throne, Julian. I want him to watch it crumble from the inside. I want Sarah, her father, and every wolf who kicked me to understand that the girl who washed their floors is the one who holds their very breath in her hands."
Julian stared at me for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders slowly giving way to a deep, reverent respect. He dropped to one knee in the damp grass, bowing his head before me.
"Your will is my law, my Queen," he murmured. "But don't stay in his bed too long. The bond is a powerful thing, El. Even the strongest walls can be breached if the beast learns how to beg."
"He won't beg," I said, staring up at the lit window of the master suite. "He doesn't know how."
A low, shattering howl suddenly ripped through the midnight air from the northern border, followed by the frantic ringing of the pack’s alarm bells. It wasn't a call for war with the Blackwoods—it was something else.
I spun around, my heart hammering against my ribs as the silver lines beneath my skin flared in warning. The real trap had just been sprung.
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