The 48-Hour Ultimatum
563 Words
The word ashwood hung in the heavy, rain-slicked air like a death sentence.
Zamani’s fingers twitched inside her jacket pockets. She knew the history. Ashwood was lethal to their kind—a weaponized relic of an old rebellion that should have been eradicated decades ago. To be accused of stealing it was the quickest way to end up dead at the bottom of the Blackwood valley.
"I don’t know anything about an armory," Zamani said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline roaring through her veins. She locked eyes with Paul, refusing to let his calculated stare break her. "And I don’t smell like silver. If I did, I’d be screaming in agony right now, wouldn't I?"
Paul tilted his head, his polite smile never reaching his cold, analytical eyes. He took a step forward, his polished shoes splashing in a puddle. "An excellent logical point. Except the thieves used lead-lined cases to mask the radiation. A clever rogue might just smell like the damp rain and the concrete... completely muted. Just like you."
Before Zamani could process the trap Paul had just laid, Douglas moved.
He didn't shift into his wolf form, but he didn't need to. With a burst of blinding speed, the Alpha closed the distance between them. His massive hand clamped around Zamani’s wrist.
A sharp, searing heat flared at the contact. It wasn't the burn of silver, but something else entirely—an electric, violent spark that shot straight up her arm and centered in her chest. Zamani gasped, her eyes widening as she tried to pull away.
Douglas froze, his grip tightening instead of loosening. His amber eyes flared a brilliant, terrifying gold. His nostrils flared as he leaned in closer, trying to inhale her scent, desperately seeking the familiar genetic markers that every werewolf carried. But there was nothing. Just a void. A beautiful, frustrating mystery that defied his supreme tracking instincts.
"What are you?" Douglas growled, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a mix of aggression and a sudden, involuntary protectiveness that visibly irritated him.
"Let go of me," Zamani hissed, masking her panic with sharp defiance. She used her free hand to shove against his chest. It was like pushing against solid granite.
"Douglas," Paul intervened softly, though his eyes were wide with fascination as he watched his Alpha’s unusual reaction. "As much as I enjoy a good interrogation in the pouring rain, the council is waiting. And the trail is growing cold."
Douglas snapped out of his trance, his jaw clenching tightly. With a rough motion, he pulled Zamani’s hands together. From his coat, he pulled a pair of heavy cuffs. The moment the metal clicked around her wrists, a high, agonizing hiss echoed in the alley.
Silver-laced.
Zamani bit her lip to stifle a cry as the metal began to blister her skin, instantly sapping her strength.
"You're coming with us, rogue," Douglas commanded, turning his back on her as if the decision was already absolute. "You have exactly forty-eight hours to help us find the real thief and prove you aren't the catalyst for another war."
Paul stepped aside, gesturing toward a sleek, black SUV idling at the edge of the alley. "Welcome to Silver Ridge, stranger. I suggest you start thinking of a good explanation."
- Writer
