Kael Draven's boots echoed on the stone floors of Ironhowl Keep, each step a reminder of the weight on his shoulders. The rogue girl lay slumped in the cell below, her silver hair spilling like moonlight across the grimy straw. He'd seen her kind before—defiant, reckless, a spark begging to be snuffed out. But something about her, something in those violet eyes and that damned pendant, gnawed at him.
She wasn't just a rogue. She was trouble, the kind that could unravel his pack faster than the bond rejections already tearing it apart.
He shoved open the heavy oak door to the war room, ignoring the ache in his knuckles where he'd struck the ravine wall after she'd gone limp. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. But she'd swung that rune-etched dagger like she meant to gut him, and hesitation wasn't a luxury an Alpha could afford. Not when his pack was fracturing, mates turning on each other, and the Council of Alphas breathing down his neck for answers.
"Torin," Kael barked, his voice cutting through the murmurs of his gathered lieutenants. The war room was a cavern of stone and iron, lit by torches that cast flickering shadows on maps and weapons lining the walls. Torin, his beta, stood at the head of the table, his grizzled face set in a scowl.
"She's awake," Torin said, not looking up from the map of the Wastes. "And spitting venom. Refuses to give her name."
Kael's jaw tightened. "She'll talk. They always do."
Torin's gray eyes flicked to him, sharp with doubt. "This one's different, Kael. She's got the pack riled. Half think she's the one breaking the bonds. The other half think she's some rogue witch sent to curse us."
"Superstition," Kael snapped, but the words felt hollow. That pendant crescent moon, old as the stories of the First Moon Queen had stirred something in him. A memory, or maybe a warning. He shook it off, striding to the map. "What do we know?"
Torin pointed to a marked spot near the ravine. "She was alone, but there's a rogue camp ten miles out. Tracks suggest others fled before we arrived. She's protecting someone. Or something."
Kael's mind flashed to the girl's smirk, her defiance even as he'd pinned her. Just a nobody who doesn't bow to Alphas. Her words had been a challenge, a blade aimed at his authority. He'd spent years building the Frostfangs into the north's fiercest pack, enforcing law where others faltered. He wouldn't let one rogue undo that. Not even one who made his blood hum in a way it hadn't in years.
"Bring her up," he ordered. "I'll handle the interrogation."
Torin hesitated, a rare crack in his loyalty. "Kael, if she's tied to the bond rejections, the Council will want her head. You sure you want to be the one to deliver it?"
Kael's amber eyes burned. "I said bring her."
The cell block was a dank maze beneath the keep, its iron bars etched with runes to suppress shifting. Kael descended alone, the torchlight casting his shadow like a wolf stalking prey. The girl,rogue, prisoner, threat was chained to the wall, her wrists bound in silver cuffs that burned her skin. She didn't flinch, though. She sat with her back straight, her gaze locked on him as he approached, like she was the one in control.
"You're awake," Kael said, stopping just outside the bars. "Good. Makes this easier."
Her lips curled, that same infuriating smirk. "Easier for who, Alpha? You don't look like you've slept in days."
He ignored the jab, though it landed closer than he'd admit. The bond rejections had kept him up, pacing the keep while his pack whispered of curses and betrayal. "Your name," he said, voice low and commanding. "Now."
She tilted her head, her silver hair catching the torchlight. "You first."
Kael's fists clenched. He wasn't used to defiance, not from rogues, not from anyone. But there was something about her something that made his wolf stir, restless and alert. He stepped closer, the bars no barrier to his presence. "You're in my keep, rogue. You don't make demands."
"And you're in over your head," she shot back, her violet eyes flashing. "You think I'm the reason your pack's falling apart? Look closer, Alpha. Maybe it's you."
The words hit like a blow, stirring doubts he'd buried deep. His parents' bond, broken by betrayal, had haunted him long before the rejections started. He shoved the thought aside, leaning in until his face was inches from the bars. "You know something about the bonds. Tell me, or I'll drag it out of you."
Her smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat, and he saw it—fear, raw and fleeting, before she masked it. "You want answers?" she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Then tell your dogs to stop sniffing around my camp. You're not the only ones hunting."
Kael's blood ran cold. The rogues weren't just hiding they were organized, maybe even allied with the Shadowclaws, the rebel pack stirring trouble in the south. He opened his mouth to press her, but a sharp pulse shot through his chest, sudden and searing. The air thickened, the torchlight dimming as if the moon itself held its breath. Her pendant glowed, a faint silver light that mirrored the hum in his veins.
"What the hell are you?" he growled, stepping back, his hand instinctively going to his chest.
She froze, her eyes wide, the pendant's glow fading as quickly as it came. For the first time, she looked as shaken as he felt. "Nothing you'd understand," she said, but her voice cracked, betraying her.
Before he could demand more, a shout echoed from above. "Alpha! Riders from Lunareth City! The Council's here!"
Kael's gut twisted. The Council, here, now? They'd sent word demanding a report on the bond rejections, but riders meant urgency. They knew something about her, about the rejections, about the chaos threatening his pack. He turned back to the girl, her face unreadable but her eyes blazing with a secret she wouldn't share.
"Lock her down tight," he ordered the guard rushing in behind him. "No one gets near her without my say."
As he stormed up the stairs, her voice followed, sharp and taunting. "Run along, Alpha. But you can't outrun what's coming."
Kael didn't look back, but her words clung to him like frost. The Council's arrival, the pendant's glow, the strange pull in his chest—it all pointed to one truth: this rogue was more than a prisoner. She was a storm, and he'd just brought her into his keep.
As he reached the war room, the horizon beyond the keep's windows burned red, a blood moon rising like a warning. And somewhere deep in his wolf's soul, a howl answered—a call he couldn't ignore.