The ultimate prize

Chapter ten

The lower vaults of the Blackwood Citadel smelled of damp stone, cured leather, and pine sawdust. Down here, beneath the grand halls and velvet-draped drawing rooms, lay the true pulse of the northern empire. Massive stone arches supported wide, cavernous rooms stacked high with grain sacks, salt meats, dried herbs, and iron crates of military weapons.

Torin stood beside a heavy oak desk cluttered with thick, leather-bound ledgers and silver inkwells, his scar-pitted face illuminated by the warm light of a hanging oil lantern. Surrounding him were three anxious pack administrators, their fingers twitching over tall stacks of parchment.

As Valen and Nora stepped down the final flight of spiral stone stairs, the administrators immediately dropped to their knees, their foreheads almost touching the dusty floorboards. Torin offered a sharp, respectful bow, his eyes flickering approvingly to Nora.

"My Alpha. My Luna," Torin greeted them. "The southern supply convoys from the border territories have finished unloading. But we have a discrepancy."

Valen guided Nora to the center of the vault, his broad hand remaining resting against the small of her back. "What kind of discrepancy?"

Torin picked up a heavy ledger bound in black leather and flipped to a page filled with dense columns of numbers. "The Bloodmoon Pack was required by the regional treaty to deliver four hundred crates of preserved winter grain and sixty barrels of medicinal oils to our southern outposts as part of their annual Solstice tribute. They delivered barely half."

Nora’s ears pricked up at the mention of her former pack. She stepped closer to the heavy desk, her dark brown eyes fixing onto the open ledger.

"Half?" Valen’s voice dropped into a dangerous, icy register that made the three kneeling administrators shiver. "Alpha Mark thinks he can withhold tributes because I took what belonged to me from his hall?"

"His written manifest claims a poor harvest in the eastern valleys," Torin explained, tapping a sealed parchment bearing the crimson crest of the Bloodmoon Pack. "He claims they simply do not have the yield to fulfill the full quota without starving their own lower-caste servants."

A small, bitter laugh escaped Nora’s lips before she could stop it.

Valen turned his head slightly, his golden eyes fixing onto her pale, composed face. "You know something about this, Nora?"

Nora looked up at Valen, then down at the dense figures written in ink. Nineteen years of living in the dark corners of the Bloodmoon estate meant she knew every lie, every hidden hoard, and every secret storage vault the Bloodmoon leadership possessed. While the elite were drinking spiced wine, Nora had been the one carrying grain sacks into hidden subterranean silos to hide assets from regional tax collectors.

"It is a lie," Nora said softly, her voice cool and precise. "The eastern valleys had their richest harvest in five years. Three weeks before the Solstice Gathering, Alpha Mark ordered the lower servants to haul two hundred extra crates of grain into the old stone wine cellars beneath the western ridge."

The three kneeling administrators raised their heads in utter shock, staring at Nora as if she had suddenly spoken in an ancient tongue.

Torin’s eyes flared with sharp, tactical intrigue. "The western ridge? Our scout patrols never monitor those cellars—they are marked as collapsed on the territorial maps."

"They aren't collapsed," Nora explained, leaning over the desk and pointing a slender finger directly at a map of the Bloodmoon border pinned to the wood. "The entrance is hidden behind the timber mill near the secondary river bend. Alpha Mark hoards surplus grain there every winter to artificially inflate market prices in the spring, while feeding his lower servants water and stale bread."

Valen stepped closer behind her, his chest pressing lightly against her back, his warm breath fanning across her temple as he looked at the map where her finger rested. The scent of cedar and ozone wrapped around her, steadying her completely.

"He lied to avoid paying his tribute," Valen murmured, a dark, lethal edge cutting through his deep voice. "And he used the excuse of his servants' starvation to justify it."

"He doesn't care about his servants," Nora said, turning her head slightly to look into Valen's amber eyes. Her dark eyes burned with an icy, tactical fire that matched his own. "He is testing you, Valen. He wants to see if your sudden departure from the Solstice Gathering broke your focus. He wants to know if the Blackwood Pack is too distracted by internal politics to enforce its border treaties."

Valen looked down at her, his wolf roaring with pure, intoxicating pride. She wasn't just observing the board; she was reading the enemy's mind.

"Torin," Valen commanded, his voice echoing through the stone vault like a drumbeat.

"Alpha?"

"Take two vanguard squadrons. Ride to the western ridge of the Bloodmoon border tonight," Valen ordered, his eyes never leaving Nora's face. "Seize the hidden grain in those cellars. Take the full tribute owed to us, plus an additional fifty percent as a penalty for false accounting."

Torin’s scarred face split into a broad, dangerous grin. "And if the Bloodmoon border guards resist?"

"Tear the timber mill down and bring me Alpha Mark’s tax collector in iron chains," Valen replied coldly. "Inform them that the mandate came directly from the Luna of the Blackwood Citadel."

The three administrators gasped, their eyes wide as they looked at Nora with newfound, terrified reverence. She had just directed a military raid across territorial lines without raising a single weapon—simply by using the quiet knowledge she had gathered while scrubbing their floors.

Torin bowed low, his fist slamming over his heart. "It will be done by dawn, my Luna."

As Torin turned and marched briskly up the stone stairs to rally his warriors, Valen wrapped his arms around Nora from behind, pulling her flush against his broad chest. His chin rested gently on her shoulder, his heavy coat wrapping around her like a fortress.

"You continue to surprise me, Nora," Valen whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, sending a wave of electric heat straight down her spine. "You just dismantled Mark's financial trap in less than five minutes."

Nora leaned back against him, closing her eyes as she let his immense, comforting warmth fill her senses. For years, her mind had been a burden—a silent vault storing secrets she could never use. Now, standing in the heart of the northern empire beside a man who trusted her implicitly, those same secrets were turning into iron weapons.

"They thought keeping me in the dark made me weak, Valen," Nora murmured, her fingers gently covering his where they rested against her waist. "They didn't realize that in the dark, you learn how to see everything."

Valen turned her around in his arms, his golden eyes glowing with a deep, fierce devotion that consumed every remaining doubt in her soul. He raised his hand, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her bottom lip before resting against her chin.

"Let them keep trying to fight us," Valen whispered, lowering his head until his lips were mere inches from hers. "They are only building your throne