Bond of Shadows

Chapter Five

The horn split the morning in two.

The chain shot skyward, rattling, and the heirs surged forward as if leashed too long. The sound was bone and fury—boots pounding, bodies slamming, the wet crack of shifting wolves as bones snapped and stretched.

Some heirs ripped through their clothes mid-sprint, their howls tearing the air, fur bristling with new strength. Others stayed half-shifted—fangs, claws, but still upright, a balance of speed and power.

I stayed human. I had to. My wolf pressed hard against its cage, snarling, but the bindings cut too deep, the perfume burned too strong. If I let her out now, everything I was hiding would rip loose with her.

Run, she whispered, low and urgent. Run with them. Tear.

Not yet. I ground my teeth and shoved her back. Not yet.

The east gates shuddered.

Prey poured out.

At first glance they were wolves—lean, muscled, wild—but the collars told the truth. Iron bands bitten into their flesh, tokens dangling like mockery. Their eyes glowed faintly red, foam and blood at their jaws. These weren’t natural. These were wolves broken, twisted, enslaved to the King’s spectacle.

The crowd roared in approval.

The heirs didn’t hesitate. They dove into the prey with teeth and claws, snarls colliding in a mess of blood and dirt. Tokens flashed like prizes at a carnival, and already I saw three heirs turn on each other the moment one ripped a collar free.

Chaos. Beautiful, stupid chaos.

I hung back.

Kai stumbled to a halt beside me, eyes wide, chest heaving. “Gods,” he whispered. “They’re… they’re not even fighting the prey, they’re fighting each other.”

“Of course they are,” I said, scanning the mess. “That’s the point.”

And then - him.

Soren.

He hadn’t moved at the horn. Not really. He leaned against the chaos like he’d been expecting it, green eyes sharp, smirk faint, watching. Watching like I was.

Our gazes caught for a breath too long.

And I felt it—like a claw dragging down my spine. His presence pressed against mine, too heavy, too real.

Him, my wolf whispered, low and certain. Closer.

My throat closed. No. No, no, no. This is not the time!

I tore my gaze away, heat prickling my skin. Just nerves. Just the Hunt.

“Come on,” I told Kai, tugging him toward the warrens at the edge of the arena. “We don’t win by running into the center like idiots. We win by staying alive.”

The warrens were tunnels carved into the stone walls, dark mouths yawning open. Prey bolted into them, shadows flickering. Heirs followed, their howls echoing deep inside. The sound of tearing flesh bled back out.

We kept to the edges, moving quick and low. My mind catalogued everything—the reckless heirs who rushed in and fell screaming, the way Kaelen’s crew stuck together like hyenas, the calculated stillness of Soren before he finally slipped into the warrens, moving like he already knew where to go.

Kai flinched at every howl. His hand kept brushing that little pouch like it might protect him.

“Keep your eyes up,” I snapped when he stumbled. “The second you look at your feet is the second someone puts you in the dirt.”

He nodded, pale, but steadied.

The bloodbath followed us no matter where we ran. A boy went down screaming three tunnels over, a spray of red painting the stone. Another heir staggered past us, clutching his stomach, only to be pulled into the dark by a collared wolf before I could blink.

I forced myself not to look. Not to help. Survival meant strategy, not bleeding for strangers.

Weak, my wolf hissed. All of them weak. Not us.

Her hunger scraped at my ribs. I shoved her back.

We pressed deeper into the warrens until a growl stopped us cold.

A collared wolf padded into view, bigger than the others, its hackles high, froth spilling from its jaws. The token at its neck gleamed faintly, wet with blood.

Kai froze.

My pulse thundered. Strategy screamed at me—angle left, draw it in, go for the collar while it lunges.

I shifted my weight, ready.

And that’s when a hand shot past mine and grabbed the collar too.

I looked up.

Soren.

His grip steady, his smirk infuriating.

“Careful, Silas,” he murmured, voice cutting low beneath the snarls. “Wouldn’t want you biting off more than you can chew.”

Ours, my wolf whispered, feral and certain.