The Crimson Claim

The Call Back

I didn’t stop moving until the woods thinned out. My legs burned, my breath came in short huffs, but I kept going. Kael Draven’s words stuck in my head like a splinter I couldn’t dig out. Mine. That one stupid word rattled around, loud and wrong, making my wolf pace inside me. I wanted to punch something, anything, to shake it off. But the forest stayed quiet, and all I had was the crunch of my boots on the dirt to keep me steady.

I told myself I was fine. I’d met alphas before, big shots with big egos, and none of them got under my skin like this. Kael was just another one, throwing his weight around, trying to scare me. It didn’t mean anything. That jolt when he got close, that heat, it was nothing. My wolf was just antsy from the hunt getting ruined. That’s all. I wasn’t some lovesick pup falling for a mate bond I didn’t even believe in.

By the time I hit the edge of Silver Claw land, the moon was high, spilling silver over the hills. I could’ve kept going, crossed the border, left it all behind. I’d done it before. But something pulled me back, a tug I couldn’t name. Maybe it was the deer I didn’t catch, or the way my stomach growled louder now. Maybe it was just dumb luck. Whatever it was, I stepped onto pack territory, and everything changed.

The air shifted first. It smelled like home once, years ago, when I was a kid running through these fields with my dad. Now it just smelled like trouble, wolves, and old grudges. I kept my knife close, my eyes sharp. Rogue or not, Silver Claw didn’t forget me. They’d sent patrols after me plenty of times, trying to drag me back, but I always slipped away. Tonight felt different, though. Too still. Too empty.

I was halfway to the old cabin I used to crash in when I heard the howl. Long, low, and full of pain. My wolf snapped to attention, ears up, growling soft. I froze, listening. Another howl answered, closer, sharp with urgency. My gut twisted. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Against every instinct screaming at me to turn around, I headed toward the sound. The cabin could wait. I moved fast, sticking to the shadows, my boots quiet on the grass. The howls led me to the pack’s edge, near the river that cut through their land. That’s when I saw them, shapes moving in the dark, wolves and humans mixed together. Lanterns flickered, casting yellow light on their faces. I stayed back, crouching behind a tree, watching.

It was a crowd, maybe twenty of them, gathered tight. I recognized a few. Mara, the healer, with her gray hair pulled back. Jace, a fighter I’d scrapped with as a kid, all muscle and no brains. And then him, Darius, the Alpha, standing tall in the middle. His blond hair glowed in the lantern light, his face hard like always. My uncle. My dad’s brother. The guy who’d tried to lock me in line after Dad died. I hated him more than most.

They were circled around something on the ground. I squinted, trying to see, and then the wind shifted. Blood hit my nose, thick and fresh, mixed with a scent I knew too well. My chest locked up. I stepped closer, quiet as I could, until I got a clear look. My knife slipped in my sweaty hand, but I caught it before it fell.

It was my dad. Dead. His body lay there, sprawled out, blood soaking the dirt under him. His throat was torn, his eyes open and blank, staring at nothing. My stomach flipped, hard, and I had to swallow to keep from puking. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I ran, but that face, it was burned into me. Older now, gray in his beard, but still him. Still the guy who taught me to hunt, who told me to be tough.

“What happened?” Mara’s voice cut through the quiet, shaky but loud.

Darius turned, his eyes cold. “Crimson Hollow. They hit him on the border. Left him like this to send a message.”

A growl rumbled through the crowd. Jace cracked his knuckles, his face red. “We can’t let this slide. They’ve been pushing us too long.”

“They’ll pay,” Darius said, voice flat, final. “But we need to bury him first. Then we plan.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Crimson Hollow. Kael Draven’s pack. The guy I’d just faced down, the one who’d looked at me like I was his. My dad was dead because of them, because of him. My hands shook, my wolf clawing at me, begging to shift, to run, to fight. I didn’t let her. I just stood there, staring at the blood, at the hole in my chest I didn’t want to feel.

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve turned back to the woods, left Silver Claw to their war. But then Darius looked up, straight at me, like he’d known I was there all along. His eyes locked on mine, blue and sharp, cutting through the dark.

“Selene,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Heads turned, murmurs rippled through the crowd. “You’re back.”

“Not by choice,” I snapped, stepping out from the tree. My voice didn’t shake, even if my insides did. “What’s this got to do with me?”

He didn’t smile, just stared. “Your father’s dead. You’re his blood. That makes it your fight too.”

“No,” I said, fast, hard. “I left this pack. I’m not yours to order around.”

“You don’t get to pick family,” he said, stepping closer. The crowd parted for him, eyes on us now. “Or duty. Crimson Hollow killed him. You think you can run from that?”

I clenched my fists, my knife heavy at my hip. “I don’t run from anything. But I’m not your soldier either.”

He stopped, close enough I could smell the wolf on him, strong and sour. “You’re not a rogue tonight. You’re Silver Claw. We bury him tomorrow. Be there, or I’ll drag you back myself.”

I wanted to spit in his face, tell him where he could shove his orders. But my dad’s body lay there, cold and still, and something in me wouldn’t let me walk away. Not yet. I glared at Darius, holding his stare, letting him see I wasn’t scared.

“I’ll be there,” I said, low and tight. “But not for you.”

He nodded, like that was enough, and turned back to the crowd. They started moving, lifting my dad’s body, carrying him off toward the packhouse. I didn’t follow. I stayed by the river, watching the lanterns fade, the blood on the ground turning black in the dark.

My head spun. Crimson Hollow. Kael Draven. His pack did this, ripped my dad apart, left him like trash. And hours ago, he’d stood in my face, sniffing me, calling me mine. My wolf growled, loud now, and I didn’t push her down this time. She wanted blood. I did too.

But there was more. That jolt when he got close, that heat I couldn’t shake, it lingered still. I hated it. Hated him. Hated that some part of me, deep and dumb, felt pulled to him even now. I kicked the tree hard, pain shooting up my leg, but it didn’t clear my head.

Tomorrow, I would bury my dad. Tomorrow, I would face Darius and his stupid pack. And after that, Kael Draven would answer for what he had done.. I didn’t care what he thought I was to him. He would learn soon that i belonged to no one, I was trouble, and I was coming for him.

I turned back to the woods, my steps heavy, my knife ready. The night wasn’t over, and neither was I.