CHAPTER 2: INFILTRATION
1225 Words
Moonridge Packhouse looks the same.
It makes me sick to look at it.
Stone walls. Silver gates. The Blackthorn sigil is everywhere. The only thing different is the girl standing beside Rylan in the courtyard.
Lena. Silver Fang’s Alpha daughter. Pretty. Young. Smiling like she already owns the place.
She probably does now.
I slip through the servant’s gate at dusk. The guards don’t check faces here. They check uniforms. I stole this one from a laundry line two towns over. It smells like cheap soap and someone else’s life.
“New girl,” the head steward says without even looking up. She’s got flour on her apron and stress lines around her eyes. “Kitchen. Now. We’re short staffed for the engagement feast.”
I nod. Keep my eyes down. Don’t talk unless I have to.
Inside, the packhouse is loud. Too loud. Music, laughter, clinking glasses. The smell of roasted meat makes my stomach twist. I haven’t had real food in days.
Rylan’s voice cuts through it all. Deeper than I remember. Colder.
“Tomorrow we announce the alliance,” he says. “Silver Fang and Moonridge will be unbreakable.”
Lena laughs. It’s bright and fake.
“And then we hunt the rogues out of the border.”
Rogues. Like I was.
Like I still am.
My hands shake as I set down the tray of wine. I set it down too hard. A glass clinks.
“Hey,” a voice says behind me.
I turn. Kid. Maybe 19. The guard's uniform was a little too big on him.
“You’re new,” he says. “What’s your name?”
“Sel,” I say. Not a lie. Just short.
“Sel,” he repeats. “I’m Kell. Be careful around the Alpha. He’s in a good mood tonight.”
I force a smile. It feels wrong on my face.
“Thanks for the warning.”
Kell leaves. I keep moving.
The kitchen is chaotic. Heat, steam, shouting. I take the dishwashing station in the corner. It keeps my head down and my hands busy. That’s what I need right now. Busy hands. Quiet head.
Two hours pass. My hands are raw. My back aches.
Then I hear it.
Rylan’s voice, close.
“Where’s the wine for table seven?”
I freeze.
He walks in. Taller than I remember. Broader. Scars on his forearms I didn’t put there. His hair’s shorter now. His face is harder. He looks like a man who hasn’t slept in years.
His eyes scan the room. They pass over me and don’t stop.
Good.
“Table seven,” he says again.
“Right here, Alpha,” I say. My voice is steady. Different. Five years in prison changes how you speak.
I lift the tray and walk to him.
Close. Too close.
His scent hits me. Pine and storm. The same as it was five years ago. The bond in my chest twitches. Dormant, but awake.
Rylan frowns.
“You look familiar.”
My heart stops.
“Everyone says that,” I say. I keep my eyes on the tray. “I have one of those faces.”
He doesn’t move.
“Have you worked here for a long?”
“Three days,” I lied.
Rylan nods slowly. Like he doesn’t believe me.
“Be careful around Lena. She doesn’t like strangers.”
Then he takes the tray and walks away.
I exhale. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath.
The bond is awake now. Faint. But there.
He felt it too. He just doesn’t know why.
Kell bumps into me on the way out.
“Sorry,” he says. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Sel,” I say. “Name’s Sel.”
Kell smiles. It’s small. Tired.
“Be careful, Sel. Lena’s in a mood tonight. She doesn’t like new faces near Rylan.”
I force a smile back.
“Thanks for the warning.”
The feast goes on forever. I keep my head down. Wash dishes. Carry trays. Listen.
Rylan announces the alliance at midnight.
“Tomorrow, Silver Fang and Moonridge become one,” he says. “No more rogues. No more weakness.”
The pack cheers.
Lena smiles at his side.
I watch from the doorway.
Rylan doesn’t look happy. He looks trapped.
Good.
Let him feel what it’s like.
At 2 AM, the kitchen finally clears out.
I slipped away.
I know where his office is. Third floor. Northwest corner.
I picked locks in prison. For food. For information.
Rylan’s lock is better than the prison’s. It takes me 90 seconds.
Inside, it’s clean. Too clean. No photos. No personal things. Like he erased the past.
I start with the desk.
Files. Contracts. Alliance papers with Silver Fang. Nothing useful.
Then I see it. A locked drawer. Silver inlay. Moonridge Alpha seal.
My hands shake as I pick the lock.
Inside: a dagger. Silver. And a letter.
The letter is mine. My handwriting.
“Rylan, if you’re reading this, they’ve framed me. Please believe me. I didn’t betray the pack. I love you. —Lyra”
Dated five years ago. The day I was arrested.
Rylan never opened it.
I close my eyes.
So he didn’t know. Or he chose not to know.
Footsteps in the hall. Fast.
I slip the letter into my jacket and duck under the desk.
The door opens.
“Alpha,” Kell’s voice. “We have a problem. The border patrol found rogue tracks. Near the old hunting grounds.”
Rylan’s voice is flat. “Send a team. Kill on sight.”
Kill on sight. Just like they did to me.
Kell leaves. Rylan stays.
He sits at the desk. I hear him sigh.
“I miss you,” he says quietly. To no one.
My breath catches.
“Lyra,” he whispers.
The bond flares. Hot, sudden, violent.
Rylan shoots to his feet.
“Who’s there?” he snaps.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
He walks around the desk.
I see his boots. Stop.
Then he crouches.
Our eyes meet.
For half a second, recognition flashes in his gold eyes.
Then it’s gone.
“Get out,” he says. His voice is dangerous now. “Before I have you whipped for trespassing.”
I crawl out and stand.
“Alpha,” I say. Head bowed.
He stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve.
“You dream.”
“What?”
“At night,” he says. “I dream of a woman with silver eyes. She calls my name. She bleeds.”
My blood turns to ice.
Those are my dreams too.
“Get out,” Rylan says again.
I leave.
Back in the servant’s quarters, I lock the door and press my back against it.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
The bond is screaming now. Not pain. Just... memory. And I hate it.
Rylan dreamed of me.
And I dreamed of him dying.
Tomorrow’s the engagement ceremony. I can hear them setting up outside already.
Tomorrow, I have to decide.
Do I let him live long enough to remember why I was framed?
Or do I let him bleed for what he did?
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.
Outside, music starts up again. Lena’s laughing.
And somewhere in this packhouse, Rylan’s asleep.
Or pretending to be.
- Writer
