Chapter 4
1113 Words
Elara’s POV
Three Years Later
The training yard smelled like dew and steel.
Corin lunged at me, quick but predictable. I sidestepped, twisted, and his blade kissed empty air. My own training knife pressed against his throat a heartbeat later.
“You keep reading my tells,” he panted, sweat running down his temple.
I arched a brow. “Stop broadcasting them.”
The rookies who were watching laughed nervously. Corin scowled, wiping his face. “Easy for you to say. You cheat.”
“Cheat?” I flicked the knife away, spinning it in my hand. “I don’t cheat, Corin. I read.”
“Same thing,” he muttered.
Behind us, Riven’s voice carried, low and amused. “You’re too slow. Stop stomping like you’re announcing your attack.”
Corin shot him a glare. “I’m not stomping.”
“You are stomping,” Darius called from the sidelines, twirling a staff like it was an extension of his arm. “Even the ground begs for mercy when you charge.”
That earned another ripple of laughter.
Eva leaned casually against the fence, arms folded, her braid falling over one shoulder. “Our Alpha’s getting soft.”
My gaze cut to her. “Try me.”
Her grin widened, sharp as glass. “Don’t tempt me.”
The warmth in their banter settled deep in my chest. This was mine. Red Moon. A pack that saw me, followed me, stood with me—not because of a title, but because I’d earned it, scar by scar.
I raised my voice, letting the rookies hear. “Again. But this time, Corin, if you move your shoulders before your feet, I’ll have you running laps until you puke.”
Groans filled the yard. I smiled despite myself.
The moment shattered when Kael strode across the field. His expression was tight, his stride clipped. No wasted motion, no humor. My stomach turned cold.
I lowered my blade. “Hold.”
The sparring stilled instantly.
Kael didn’t stop until he stood in front of me, voice pitched low. “We need to speak. Now.”
Riven’s gaze flicked to me, his posture shifting subtlety closer. Darius stopped spinning his staff. Eva straightened, braid swinging. Even the rookies sensed the change and shuffled nervously.
I didn’t look away from Kael. “War room.”
The table was scarred from years of use, maps layered with pins and notes. The smell of wax and ink lingered.
Kael didn’t sit. He planted both hands on the wood. “Orders from the Council. Non-negotiable.”
My arms crossed. “Name the pack.”
He hesitated. Just for a breath. Long enough for my pulse to quicken.
“Knightfall.”
The name hit like a knife to the ribs.
The silence cracked with Darius’s mutter. “Here we go.”
Heat unfurled under my skin. The candles guttered in their holders. The grain of the table splintered where my fingers dug in.
“They called me nothing,” I said softly. “And now they want my help.”
Kael didn’t flinch. “They want Red Moon’s help. And you are Red Moon.”
Riven stepped closer, his presence steady, calm. “Breathe.”
Eva’s eyes flicked to the cracks forming beneath my hand. “Elara—”
“I am breathing.” My voice came out sharp. The air shimmered. Sweat broke out along Corin’s brow though the room was cool.
Darius gave a low whistle. “Careful, boss. Last time you lost it, we had to replace half the ceiling.”
I exhaled hard. The heat settled, begrudging but contained. The cracks in the table smoked faintly.
“If Dante breathes the wrong way,” I said, lifting my gaze, “I will not bow.”
Kael met my eyes steadily. “No one is asking you to bow. They are asking you to lead.”
We shifted to maps. Lines of territory. Rogue movements along Knightfall border.
“Officially, I’m still Alpha,” Kael said. “That’s the face we show. That’s what the Council expects.”
Eva frowned. “So they still believe she’s your Beta.”
“They do,” Kael confirmed.
My lip curled. “Convenient.”
“The Council specifically requested you,” he added. “Your record against rogues is too clean to ignore.”
The room stilled again. Everyone knew the risk.
Eva said carefully, “We can mask your scent, Elara. Maybe even your presence if you keep your aura locked down.”
Riven’s smirk was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. “Or let them see it. Let them wonder. Let them sweat.”
“We don’t posture,” I snapped. “We win.”
The maps rustled as I spread them out. “We keep Kael in front for diplomacy. I run tactics. Corin, perimeter. Eva, med and recon. Riven and Kael, flanks. Darius, comms and logistics. Two scouts on rotation.”
Darius scribbled notes. “Extraction signals?”
“Blue flare for retreat. Double red for immediate withdrawal.”
“Safe-words?” Kael asked.
I nodded. “Three. Thorn for danger. Flame for regroup. Ash for abort.”
Eva tapped her pen. “And wolfsbane antidotes?”
“Every pack member carries one,” I said.
Kael leaned back. “And if they press you?”
I met his gaze. “Then they learn.”
The night air was cool against my overheated skin. The training yard below lay empty, shadows stretching long.
I closed my eyes. Lysandra.
Her voice came soft, inside me, yet fierce. ‘We are not the girl who ran.’
“No.” My hands gripped the railing. “We’re the storm she became.”
Her growl was approval, but it carried warning. ‘Do not let vengeance blind you.’
“I’m not afraid of them,” I whispered. “I’m afraid of me. Afraid of losing control in front of them.”
Then master yourself, she said simply. ‘Or they will never see the difference between you and the fire that burns you.’
Blades. Suppressants. Wolfsbane antidotes. Flashbangs. Comm beads. My gear laid out with military precision.
At the bottom of the chest, I found the note. The one I’d left behind three years ago. Words scrawled in a hand that had shaken.
I folded it once, twice, until it was small enough to disappear in my palm. Then I shoved it deep into the pack.
A knock on the door. Eva leaned in, eyes searching mine. “You ready?”
I pulled the straps tight across my chest. “Ready enough.”
We move out at 05:00 the next morning.
- Writer
