Chapter 8
367 Words
Revenge is not rushed, he would say.
She could still hear his voice clearly in her mind.
Bloodmoon slaughtered your family. They burned your home. They laughed while it happened.
That memory was carved into her bones.
Even now, when she closed her eyes, she could see smoke. Hear screaming. Smell blood.
She did not remember everything from that night. She had been six. But she remembered enough.
And she remembered the name.
Blackwood.
Ryder Blackwood.
The heir of the Alpha who ordered the m******e.
Nova rested her hand on the cold hilt of her blade.
He is the enemy.
He dies soon.
A sudden shift in the air made her tense.
The warriors behind her straightened immediately.
Footsteps approached from the lower path. Heavy. Confidence. Unhurried.
Nova did not need to look to know who it was.
Alpha Ryder Blackwood stepped into view.
He wore black training clothes instead of formal attire. His dark hair was slightly damp as if he had just finished sparring. His presence alone changed the air. Conversations died. Spines straightened.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
“Report,” Ryder said.
The two warriors beside Nova lowered their heads respectfully.
“No rogue movement, Alpha,” one of them answered quickly.
Ryder’s gaze shifted to Nova.
It lingered.
Her pulse stayed steady. Years of training made sure of that. She lowered her head slightly, enough to show respect but not weakness.
“The western ridge?” he asked her directly.
“Secure,” she replied. “Though the scent markers near the river need refreshing.”
A small pause.
“You noticed that.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Silence stretched between them.
His eyes were darker up close. Sharp. Observant. Not careless like she had imagined as a child.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
Nova could feel the heat of him. The quiet strength in the way he stood. He was taller than most wolves, broad shouldered, and controlled.
Dangerous.
“Walk with me,” he said.
The other warriors stayed behind.
Nova followed him down the narrow path. Every instinct inside her remained alert. She had stood near him before, but never alone like this.
- Writer
