BROKEN HOWL

Chapter 3: Blood and Bargains

Blackthorn City smelled of wet stone, cheap liquor, and the sharp bite of silver that lingered in the air like a warning. Matilda kept her hood low as she moved through the crowded market square, one hand resting lightly over the swell beneath her loose tunic. The child kicked hard reminding her why every step mattered.

Four months since the night Williams had thrown her away. Her body had changed. Her face had sharpened. The soft roundness in her cheeks was gone, replaced by hollows that made the scar above her eyebrow stand out harsher under lantern light.

She stopped at a narrow stall draped in faded black cloth. The vendor, an older wolf with missing fingers on his left hand, glanced up and narrowed his eyes.

“Selene sent me,” Matilda said. Her voice came out flat. Tired. She didn’t bother softening it.

The man grunted, then jerked his head toward the back alley. “Third door. Knock twice, wait, knock once more. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

She followed the instructions. The door creaked open on rusted hinges. Inside, the room was dim, lit by a single oil lamp. Three figures sat around a scarred wooden table. Two men. One woman with a fresh knife wound across her cheek that still wept blood.

The woman, lean, dark-haired, eyes like chipped flint spoke first. “You’re the half-blood Selene vouched for. Says you need papers, contacts, and a place to lie low until the pup drops. That true?”

Matilda pulled back her hood. She didn’t flinch when their gazes dropped to her belly. “It’s true. I can pay. And I can work.”

One of the men laughed, low and ugly. “Work? Look at you. You’ll pop any day now. What use are you?”

She stepped closer. The movement was deliberate. Slow. Her wolf stirred just beneath her skin, lending weight to her stare. “I survived Alpha Williams Draven’s rejection in front of his entire pack. I crossed the borderlands alone while carrying his child. If you think a swollen belly makes me useless, you’re welcome to test me.”

Silence stretched. The wounded woman tilted her head, studying her. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her cut lip. “Name’s Vesper. These two idiots are Jax and Marek. We run information and… discreet services for those the big packs don’t want. You want in, you prove you won’t cry when things get bloody.”

Matilda reached into her pocket and slid Selene’s pouch across the table. Coins spilled. Not all of them but enough to make Jax’s eyes widen.

“I don’t cry anymore,” she said quietly. “I calculate.”

Vesper leaned back. “Good. We’ll need that. Nightshade has been sniffing around our borders lately. Asking questions about a missing female. Seems their Alpha is… restless.”

Matilda’s stomach tightened. She kept her face blank, but her pulse jumped. Williams. Still hunting ghosts. The thought sent a twisted spark through her part rage, part something darker she refused to name.

“I’ll handle whatever you need,” she said. “Just give me a room, food, and time to bring this child into the world safely. After that, I’m yours for whatever jobs pay best.”

Vesper nodded once. “Deal. But if you bring trouble to our door Draven or otherwise we’ll slit your throat and feed you to the river. Understood?”

“Understood.”

They gave her a small room above the tavern. It smelled of mildew and old smoke, but it had a lock on the door and a narrow bed. Matilda collapsed onto it the moment she was alone, hands cradling her belly.

The child kicked again. Stronger this time.

“You’re going to be fierce,” she whispered, voice cracking just a little. “I won’t let him touch you. Not ever.”

Labor came three weeks later, sudden and brutal in the dead of night.

Vesper and an old midwife with steady hands stayed with her. Matilda bit down on a strip of leather to keep from screaming too loud. Sweat poured down her face. Every contraction felt like claws tearing her apart from the inside.

Hours blurred. Pain sharpened her focus until nothing existed but the next breath, the next push.

Then a thin, angry cry split the air.

The midwife placed a small, wriggling bundle in her arms. Dark hair. Tiny fists waving. Eyes that already carried a glint of gold the mark of strong blood.

“A boy,” the old woman said softly.

Matilda stared down at him. Something inside her chest cracked open wide. Not the broken kind. The kind that made her dangerous.

She named him Elias.

Elias Voss.

Not Draven. Never Draven.

The first month was a haze of exhaustion and fierce protectiveness. She fed him, rocked him when he wailed, and learned to move silently even when her body still ached. Vesper’s group kept their word food appeared, clothes for the baby, a wet nurse when Matilda needed rest for jobs.

She started small. Delivering sealed messages across rooftops at night. Eavesdropping on visiting merchants. Once, she slit the purse of a loud-mouthed Nightshade scout who had wandered too far into Blackthorn and bragged about how “the Alpha had finally chosen a real mate.”

Each small victory fed the cold fire in her veins.

By the time Elias turned six months old, Matilda had earned a reputation. Quiet. Efficient. Deadly when cornered. The scar above her eyebrow had become a mark others recognized. She wore it like armor now.

One rainy afternoon, Vesper found her in the back room, Elias strapped securely to her chest while she cleaned a set of throwing knives.

“Word just came in,” Vesper said, dropping a folded paper onto the table. “There’s a summit in three months. Neutral ground. All major packs attending including Nightshade. They’re looking for outsiders with certain… skills. Spies. Enforcers. Someone who can move between factions without drawing eyes.”

Matilda’s hand stilled on the blade. She looked up slowly.

Vesper’s eyes gleamed. “You interested?”

Matilda glanced down at Elias, who had fallen asleep against her, tiny fingers curled into her shirt. Then she looked back at Vesper.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was steady. Certain. “But on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“When the time comes, I get to choose my target. And no one interferes.”

Vesper studied her for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. “Fine. But remember power like that comes with a price. You sure you’re ready to pay it?”

Matilda smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve already paid worse.”

That night, as she lay beside Elias’s cradle, listening to his soft breathing, Matilda unfolded the summit invitation. Her fingers traced the embossed seal.

Williams would be there.

She could feel the old bond, faint and twisted, tugging somewhere deep inside. It made her want to vomit. It also made her want to walk straight into his territory and watch his face when he realized what she had become.

She folded the paper and tucked it away.

Not yet.

She would return when she was ready.

When she could look Alpha Williams Draven in the eye and make him beg for the mercy he never showed her.

But first, she would build an empire out of the ashes he left behind.

And when she finally stood before him again, it would not be as the broken girl he rejected.

It would be as the woman who could destroy everything he held dear.