Chapter 7: The Dagger
1123 Words
On the sixth day, word came from the border—Victor Ashton’s private forces had arrived at the perimeter of Bloodspear territory.
In the council chamber, Cole proposed handing me over once more, this time backed by two more elders. The message Marcus sent consisted of only a single sentence: The Alpha has yet to state his position.
At midnight on the seventh day, Caine stood at the door of my wooden cabin. The moonlight stretched his shadow long, casting it across the wooden door. I opened it, and he stood three paces away—exactly three paces.
"You haven't appeared for three days," I said.
"Cole is pushing me to state my position. If I am present, I must either hand you over or formally go to war with Victor. Now is not the time for either."
"So you are stalling."
"I am investigating," he said. "Why is Victor so desperate to have you back? After your parents died six years ago, he took over all of the Ashton family’s assets. You are merely a titular heir. If he only wanted power, you would no longer pose a threat. Unless... you possess something he does not."
"The mark of the Moon Goddess. The Bloodmoon Dagger. And the iron box."
He looked at me, not asking what iron box. He knew. My mother had sent a letter to the Hunter Council before she died, and his men had intercepted a copy—Victor was looking for something only an Ashton heir could open. If Victor obtained what was inside, his control over the family would be finished.
He had betrayed my parents before their deaths. It wasn't an impulse; it was a conspiracy.
"Does Cole know about this?"
"Cole knows I am investigating, but he doesn't know what I am looking for. He thinks I am investigating you—in truth, I am investigating who opened the border corridor for Victor on the night Ashton Manor was attacked six years ago."
"Who was it?"
Caine fell silent. The sheer weight of that silence sent a chill down my spine.
"Only members of the Council of Elders hold the key to that corridor. The registration number used to open the border six years ago... belonged to Cole."
Elder Cole. The Cole who proposed burning me at the stake. The Cole who proposed handing me over. The Cole who had lost eighty percent of the strength in his left arm to my father’s blade.
He didn't hate me just because of my father. He was trying to silence a witness. Six years ago, he had opened the corridor for Victor, leading to my parents' deaths in a werewolf ambush. Six years later, he wanted to ensure I died in Bloodspear territory, so I would never have the chance to open that iron box.
And on the night that door was opened, thirty-seven Bloodspear werewolves had marched through it. They had believed they were going to capture the traitor, Victor—completely unaware that a trap had already been laid.
Thirty-seven lives, ended by silver hunter arrows. Cole had stood outside the border line and shut the corridor door.
Caine had carried this blood debt for six years. A weight even longer than my own hatred.
"You plan to kill him," I said.
"I plan to try him. Before the Council of Elders, in front of all our surviving brothers. After the trial—under
Bloodspear law, the penalty for treason is death. Executed by the Alpha himself."
"Cole will not submit to a trial willingly. How many men does he have?"
"Enough to wage a civil war."
"And you still intend to fight?"
He fell silent once more, the moonlight carving deep shadows across his face.
"You know why my mother died. My father did not stand against the pack for her—he chose the pack, chose half of his heart, chose the war, and ultimately chose a path that did not include her. I was twelve years old then."
He looked at me. There was no calculation, no cold scrutiny in his dark gold eyes. It was merely a man standing at the edge of a cliff, looking at another standing at the exact same edge.
"I will not walk the path he chose. Cole is a cancer to the pack, and Victor is a traitor to the Ashtons. One owes the lives of your parents; the other owes the lives of my brothers. If you are willing..."
He held out a dagger.
It was not the Bloodmoon Dagger. It was a new blade, unsharpened, with the wolf head totem of the Bloodspear carved into the hilt.
"The edge of this blade waits for you to sharpen it yourself."
I accepted the dagger. The leather wrap on the hilt was still warm from his body heat.
"I am not seeking vengeance on your behalf. I am cleaning house. But when it comes to your parents, you have a right to be there."
He turned to leave. After a few paces, he stopped.
"One more thing. Among the private forces Victor brought are observers from the Hunter Council. If we go to war with Victor, the Hunter Council may join. When that happens, it won't be a Bloodspear civil war—it will be a full-scale war across the supernatural world."
His silhouette vanished into the shadows where the moonlight could not reach.
I looked down at the dagger in my hand. Unsharpened.
He had given me a whetstone, and now he had given me a blade.
In the moonlight before dawn, I began to sharpen the dagger. The scraping against the whetstone was exceptionally clear in the silence, the edge slowly revealing a silver-white glint. Like a Moondrop flower, like salt, like the way he had looked at me beneath the silver oaks that morning.
I held the sharpened dagger up to the moonlight. The edge was incredibly thin, sharp enough to split a hair.
An Ashton always pays their debts. Cole owed the lives of my parents. Victor owed the lives of my parents.
Caine Bloodspear—he owed me nothing. Yet, he had handed me a blade.
It was not love. It was something far more dangerous.
Trust.
The light inside his tent burned all through the night once more. But I did not watch from a distance. I sat by the window of the wooden cabin, the dagger resting on my knees.
Outside, forces were gathering, negotiations were taking place, and plans for a civil war or a full-scale global war were being forged.
And I—a person who had lived for six years solely for her own vengeance—sat holding another man's blade, waiting for the dawn.
- Writer
