The Crimson Claim

Dirt and Secrets

The morning arrived all too soon. I hadn’t truly slept. My eyes burned, my legs ached, but I didn’t care. I had spent the night pacing the old cabin, my wolf restless, my mind consumed by noise. Kael Draven’s face kept appearing—his red eyes, his smug voice echoing in my thoughts. My father’s blood, dark and sticky, lingered in my mind as well. I wanted to flee, to leave Silver Claw behind once more, but my feet refused to move beyond the door. Not today.

The burial was scheduled for noon. I forced myself outside, the sun glaring down, harsh against my skin. The cabin sat lonely at the edge of pack land, a rundown shack I had taken over years ago. Usually, no one bothered me here. But today was different. I felt the weight of their stares prickling my back as I walked toward the packhouse, wolves lurking among the trees. They remained silent, just watching. I kept my chin high, my knife snug at my hip, ready for anyone foolish enough to test me.

The packhouse came into view—tall and worn, its gray wood sagging with age. It used to mean something to me, back when I was little, when Dad would carry me through those doors on his shoulders, laughing. Now, it was just a relic of the past, heavy with secrets I didn’t want to uncover.

A crowd had gathered in the clearing behind it. Fifty wolves—some shifted, some not—all hushed. I hated how it tugged at something inside me, how close I came to feeling like I belonged again. I wouldn’t let that happen.

Darius stood at the front, rigid and tall, his blond hair catching the sunlight. Jace lingered beside him, arms folded, scowling at the dirt. Mara waited near a mound of earth, clutching a shovel like it was too heavy to hold. And there, in the center, lay my father. They had washed him, wrapped him in a gray blanket, but dried blood still crusted his neck where it showed. My stomach twisted, sharp and sick. I swallowed hard, forcing my expression into something blank.

I stopped at the edge of the crowd, keeping my distance. Heads turned, whispers buzzed around me like gnats. I ignored them. I knew what they saw—rogue girl, troublemaker, the Beta’s daughter who abandoned them. They could say what they wanted. I wasn’t here for their opinions.

Darius met my gaze first. His blue eyes locked onto mine, cold and unreadable.

“You came,” he said, his voice slicing through the murmurs.

“I said I would,” I replied flatly. "Not for you."

He didn’t flinch, just gave a single nod. “Good enough. Let’s finish this.”

Mara started speaking, her voice thin and unsteady, reciting an old pack prayer about the moon and strength. No one interrupted her. I tuned it out. My eyes stayed on my father, on the blanket covering what Crimson Hollow had done. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms.

Kael Draven’s scent—pine and smoke—crept into my mind. My wolf let out a low growl. I pushed her back, quick and fierce. Not here.

They lowered my father into the ground slowly, the dirt hitting the blanket with soft, final thuds. Each sound landed heavy, sinking into me in a way I couldn’t escape. I hadn’t seen him in five years, not since I ran. He had found me once, showing up at my cabin with a bag of food and a tired smile. I had told him to leave, told him I didn’t need him or his pack. He had walked away quietly, head low.

That was the last time I saw him. Now he was gone forever. And I didn’t know how to make sense of the mess in my chest.

When the grave was full, Darius stepped forward. “Crimson Hollow crossed a line,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through the air. “They think they can strike us and walk away. They’re mistaken. We bury our dead today. Tomorrow, we strike back.”

A rumble of growls spread through the crowd, low and furious. Jace slammed a fist into his palm, nodding.

I stood still, watching Darius. His words felt too polished, too steady. My father was his brother. He should have been wrecked, furious—like me. Instead, he looked like a man carved from stone. My stomach tightened.

I didn’t trust him.

The crowd began to disperse, wolves murmuring about revenge. I turned to leave, eager to escape, when Darius spoke again.

“Selene. Stay.”

I stiffened, then turned back. “What?”

He approached slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Jace followed, smirking like he held some secret.

“You’re not finished here,” Darius said. “Your father left something for you.”

I frowned, arms crossing. “Left what? He’s dead.”

Darius pulled a folded paper from his pocket. The edges were torn, the yellowed parchment sealed with wax.

“A letter,” he said. “I found it in his things after they brought him in. Your name’s on it.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t reach for it right away. “You didn’t read it?”

“Not my place,” he said, extending it toward me. “Take it. Read it. Then we talk.”

I snatched it quickly, my fingers brushing his. The wax seal split under my thumb. I didn’t like this. Didn’t trust him.

“Talk about what?” I asked.

“Tomorrow,” Darius said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re part of this now, Selene. Whether you want to be or not.”

I scoffed. “I’m not part of anything.” I turned, gripping the letter tight. “I’ll read it. Nothing else.”

He didn’t argue, just watched me leave. Jace muttered something under his breath, chuckling. I ignored him. I moved quickly, the letter hot in my hands, back to the cabin. My mind raced with questions.

What did my father have to say? Why now? And why had Darius looked so pleased about it?

The cabin was dark when I arrived, the air cold and musty. I kicked the door shut, slumped into the creaky chair at the table, and unfolded the letter. My father’s handwriting sprawled across the page, rough but familiar, scratched in black ink.

My heart pounded as I began to read.

Selene,

If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t fix things between us. I tried. You’re stubborn—like me—and I’m proud of that. But there’s something you need to know, something I kept quiet for too long.

You’re not just my daughter. You’re more.

Your mother’s blood—it’s old. Older than this pack, older than Silver Claw. It’s royal. I didn’t believe it at first, but she showed me proof before she left.

You have power in you, Selene. Power they’ll kill to stop.

Crimson Hollow knows. They’ve always known.

Be careful. Don’t trust anyone. Not even Darius.

I love you. Always have.

—Dad

I dropped the letter like it had burned me. My hands trembled, breath caught in my throat. Royal? Power? What kind of nonsense was this?

My mother had been quiet, distant. She never spoke of bloodlines or power. She hardly spoke at all. And now my father was saying Crimson Hollow had killed him over me?

My wolf paced inside me, restless. I stood, shoving the chair back. None of this made sense.

But something clicked.

Kael Draven. His words. That look in his eyes. Mine.

Did he know? Was that why he hunted me?

I tightened my grip on my knife. I wasn’t a princess. I wasn’t some prize to be fought over.

I was Selene Carver. Rogue. Fighter. Nobody’s pawn.

Tomorrow, I would get answers. From Darius. From Kael. From anyone who dared to lie to me.

And if Kael Draven thought I was his?

He was dead wrong.