The Silver Flame

Chapter 6: The Name

Raven didn't bother knocking.

The door to Kane's apartment swung open at 2:47 AM, and Eliana was already sitting up in bed before she heard the footsteps. The bond. It had woken her up. A spike of something sharp and cold that wasn't hers.

Kane.

She threw off the covers and ran.

The living room was dark except for the city lights bleeding through the windows. Kane stood in the middle of the room in his sleep pants, barefoot, hair a mess, spine straight as a blade.

Raven was across from him. Breathing hard. Still wearing the same clothes from earlier.

"You need to hear this," Raven said.

"At three in the morning?"

"It couldn't wait."

Eliana stepped out of the hallway.

Raven's eyes landed on her. That same cold look. But something else was there now. Something she hadn't seen before.

Fear.

Not for himself. For Kane.

"She stays," Kane said.

"I wasn't going to suggest otherwise." Raven's jaw tightened. "I talked to one of Marcus's men. The one from the alley. He gave me a name."

"What name?"

Raven looked at Eliana.

The silence stretched.

"Her father's name," he said. "Nash."

Eliana's stomach dropped.

"That's not—" She stopped. Started again. "I don't even know my father's name."

"You don't," Raven agreed. "But he does."

Kane hadn't moved. His face was blank, but his hands were fists at his sides.

"Nash," he repeated.

"You know the name," Raven said. It wasn't a question.

"Everyone knows the name." Kane's voice was flat. Controlled. "Nash was the Alpha of the Shadow Pack. Twenty-three years ago, he tried to take over the entire territory. Killed fourteen Alphas in six months. No one could stop him."

He turned to Eliana.

His eyes were black. Impossibly black.

"They said he died in the final battle, but his body was never found."

"My father is not a mass murderer," Eliana said.

"You don't know that."

"I know he left before I was born. I know my mother never talked about him. I know he never sent money, never called, never—" Her voice cracked. She forced it steady. "Whoever he was, he wasn't a part of my life. He doesn't get to be a part of it now."

"That's not how this works," Raven said. "Blood is blood. If he's alive, Marcus will find him. Or worse—Marcus will use you to draw him out."

"I don't know where he is."

"You don't have to. You just have to exist."

The room was too quiet.

Eliana could hear her own heartbeat. And his. Pressing against her ribs like a second pulse.

"Raven," Kane said. "Leave us."

"Kane—"

"Now."

Raven's nostrils flared. He looked at Eliana one more time—long and hard, like he was trying to memorize her face so he could hate it properly later—and then he walked out.

The door clicked shut.

Kane didn't move.

Eliana stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around herself, fighting the urge to shake.

"Are you going to ask me if I knew?" she said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you didn't." He walked to the window. Stared out at the city. "I would have felt it. The lie."

"Maybe I'm a good liar."

"You're not." He turned. "You're terrible at it. That's how I know you're telling the truth."

She wanted to argue. But her throat was too tight.

She sat down on the arm of the couch. Just to keep her legs from giving out.

"Nash," she said. The name felt wrong in her mouth. Like a piece of glass she was supposed to swallow. "You really think that's him?"

"I think it's possible."

"And if it is? If my father is some—monster from a war I never knew about?"

"Then you're not just a half-blood with no scent." Kane's voice was low. "You're the daughter of the most dangerous Alpha in modern history. And the bond chose you for me."

He said it like a curse.

"Is that why you're scared?" she asked.

"I'm not scared."

"You're lying now."

His jaw tightened. But he didn't deny it.

He walked toward her. Slow. Like he was walking toward something he knew would hurt.

"If your father is alive, every pack in this city will want you. Not because of who you are. Because of who you belong to. They'll use you as leverage. As bait. As a weapon." He stopped in front of her. "I can't protect you from all of them."

"Then don't."

"What?"

"Don't protect me." She looked up at him. "Teach me to protect myself."

He stared at her.

The city lights flickered behind him. Traffic sounds drifted up from the street. Somewhere in the building, a door opened and closed.

"You don't know what you're asking," he said.

"Then explain it."

"The kind of power you have—it's not like mine. I transform. I heal. I'm stronger, faster, harder to kill. But you—" He crouched down in front of her. Eye level. "You destroy things. That's what the flame does. It breaks. It burns. It doesn't build. It doesn't heal."

"It healed you."

"That was different."

"How?"

He didn't answer.

She could see him thinking. Could see him trying to find the right words and failing.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never seen anything like it. The bond usually just—connects. It doesn't burn. It doesn't heal. It doesn't—" He reached out. Stopped. "It doesn't feel like this."

His fingers were an inch from her wrist.

She could feel the heat. The pull.

"Then maybe we're both in new territory," she said. "Maybe you don't get to be the expert on this one."

A short sound escaped his throat. Almost a laugh. Almost.

"You're impossible," he said.

"So I've been told."

"You argue with me. You question me. You look at me like I'm not an Alpha."

"Maybe because I don't care that you're an Alpha."

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he did something she didn't expect.

He sat down.

On the floor. In front of her. His back against the couch, his legs stretched out on the rug.

Like a normal person.

"Nash," he said again, staring at the ceiling. "I was twelve years old when they killed him. Or thought they killed him. My father came home with blood on his hands and didn't speak for three days."

"Your father fought him?"

"Everyone fought him. He was a disease. A plague." Kane turned his head. Looked at her. "And now his blood is in your veins. And yours is in mine."

Eliana slid off the couch arm. Sat on the floor next to him. Not touching. Close enough.

"I'm not him," she said.

"I know."

"I've never hurt anyone."

"I know that too."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

He was quiet for a long time.

When he spoke, his voice was different. Softer. More honest.

"I'm afraid that one day you'll have to. And I won't be able to stop it."

She didn't have an answer for that.

So she just sat there. On the floor. Next to a man she barely knew but couldn't escape. Watching the city lights blink on and off through the window.

At some point, his hand moved.

Not toward her. Just—resting on the floor between them.

She looked at it.

Big hand. Long fingers. A thin scar across the knuckles.

She thought about reaching out. About touching him. About letting the silver flame spark between their skin.

She didn't.

But she wanted to.

That was the problem.

The next morning, she woke up on the couch.

A blanket over her shoulders. A pillow under her head. No sign of Kane.

But on the coffee table, next to a cold cup of coffee, there was a piece of paper.

Handwritten.

Training at 6 PM. Don't be late. —K

She read it three times.

Then she folded it carefully and put it in her pocket.

Across town, in a basement that smelled like blood and old wood, Raven sat across from a different man.

This one wasn't smiling.

"You told me Nash was dead," Raven said.

"I told you everyone thought he was dead." The man shrugged. "Big difference."

"Where is he?"

"If I knew, I'd be rich. Everyone wants to find Nash. The bounty on his head hadn't been collected in twenty-three years." The man leaned forward. "But I can tell you one thing. The daughter? The half-blood your Alpha is protecting?"

"What about her?"

"She's not just his daughter." The man's voice dropped. "She's his heir. And if she ever learns to use what's inside her—"

He didn't finish.

He didn't have to.

Raven was already gone.

Eliana sat alone in the apartment, staring at the wall where the silver symbols had been.

The scar was quiet now. But she could still feel it. The shape of his name. The weight of his blood.

Somewhere across the city, her father was alive.

And now he knew where to find her.