The silver cuffs burned Eira's wrists like fire, each pulse a reminder of her captivity. The cell in Ironhowl Keep was a tomb of damp stone and rusted iron, the air thick with the stench of mold and fear. She sat cross-legged on the straw-covered floor, her violet eyes fixed on the flickering torch beyond the bars. The pain was nothing new rogues learned to endure worse in the Wastes but the hum in her chest, the one that had flared when Kael Draven loomed over her, was a different kind of torment. It wasn't just the pendant at her neck, glowing faintly now, like a heartbeat. It was him. The Alpha. Her enemy.
Eira's fingers twitched, itching to rip the pendant off and hurl it into the dark. It had betrayed her in the ravine, its glow marking her as something more than a rogue. She'd spent years hiding her bloodline, her power, her curse. One slip, one moment of weakness, and Kael had seen it. If he or his Council dogs figured out she was the last heir of the First Moon Queen, she'd be dead before dawn. Or worse, they'd use her to control the packs.
She forced her breathing to steady, her mind racing.
The Council's riders were here she'd heard the guard's shout. They weren't just sniffing for bond rejections; they were hunting her. The royal blood in her veins, the power to unmake Alpha bonds, was a threat to their entire system. She had to escape, now, before they dragged her to Lunareth City and tore her secrets apart.
Eira tested the cuffs, wincing as the silver seared her skin. The runes etched into them pulsed faintly, suppressing her ability to shift. She couldn't break them, not without her power, and using it here would be like screaming her identity to every wolf in the keep. But sitting still wasn't an option.
She scanned the cell, her gaze landing on a loose stone in the wall, its edges worn smooth by years of neglect. A plan sparked, reckless but possible.
She shuffled closer, masking her movements with a cough as a guard passed by. Her fingers pried at the stone, nails scraping until it gave way, revealing a rusted iron rod half-buried in the mortar.
Not a key, but a lever. She worked quickly, her heart pounding as footsteps echoed above. The rod bent under her strength, just enough to wedge into the cuff's lock. She twisted, gritting her teeth against the silver's burn, until a faint click sounded. One cuff snapped open.
"Almost there," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. The second cuff was trickier, the lock older and stubborn. She cursed under her breath, glancing at the bars. The guard was out of sight, but the Council's arrival meant more eyes, more danger. She had minutes, maybe less.
The pendant pulsed again, hotter this time, and a wave of dizziness hit her. Images flashed in her mind—jagged mountains, a blood-red moon, Kael's amber eyes burning into hers. She gasped, dropping the rod, her hand trembling. "Not now," she hissed, willing the vision away. The pendant had done this before, whispering fragments of a past she didn't understand, a power she couldn't control. It was why she'd fled her family's camp years ago, why she'd buried her real name. Eira Blackwood was a lie, a shield. The truth was far more dangerous.
The second cuffs clicked open, and she rubbed her raw wrists, her pulse racing. She grabbed the rod, tucking it into her cloak, and moved to the bars, testing their strength. They were solid, but the lock was old, its runes faded. If she could just…
"Planning to run already?" a voice cut through the dark, sharp and feminine. Eira froze, her grip tightening on the rod as a figure stepped into the torchlight. Not Kael. A woman, shorter, with dark hair streaked with silver and amber eyes that mirrored his. Lyra Draven, Kael's sister, the pack's scout. Eira had heard whispers of her in the Wastes—loyal, clever, and far too curious for her own good.
"Thought Alphas didn't send their sisters to do their dirty work," Eira said, keeping her tone light, her body coiled to strike.
Lyra's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Kael's busy with the Council. I wanted a look at the rogue who's got him so rattled." She tilted her head, studying Eira like a puzzle. "You're not what I expected."
"And what's that?" Eira asked, edging closer to the bars. If she could distract Lyra, maybe she could use the rod to…
"Someone who scares him," Lyra said, her voice low. "He doesn't scare easy."
Eira's stomach twisted. She didn't want to hear about Kael's fears, not when that strange hum in her chest flared at the thought of him. "If he's scared, he should be," she said, forcing a smirk. "Your pack's falling apart, and I'm not the one you should be locking up."
Lyra's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, a tremor shook the cell block. Dust rained from the ceiling, and a distant howl split the air—not a wolf's, but something older, wilder. Eira's pendant burned, its glow spilling through her cloak, and Lyra's gaze snapped to it, wide with shock.
"What is that?" Lyra demanded, stepping closer.
Eira yanked her cloak over the pendant, her heart hammering. "Nothing you'd understand," she said, echoing her words to Kael. But the lie felt thin, and Lyra's expression said she wasn't buying it.
The howl came again, closer now, and shouts erupted above. "Intruders!" a guard bellowed. "The Wastes rogues are at the gates!"
Eira's blood ran cold. Her camp,her people had come for her. Or worse, the Shadowclaws had tracked her, sensing her power. Either way, the keep was about to become a battlefield, and she was still trapped.
Lyra cursed, drawing a blade from her belt. "Stay put," she snapped, turning to leave.
"Not a chance," Eira muttered. She jammed the rod into the lock, twisting with all her strength. The bars groaned, but held. Panic clawed at her as the sounds of battle grew louder—snarls, screams, the clash of steel. She couldn't stay here, not with the Council sniffing around, not with her power threatening to betray her.
The pendant flared again, and this time, the vision was clear: Kael, standing under a blood moon, his eyes locked on hers as howls echoed around them. Fate binds you, a voice whispered, ancient and unyielding. Claim it, or it claims you.
The lock gave way with a snap, and Eira stumbled forward, her breath ragged. She was free for now. But as she slipped into the shadowed corridor, the pendant's glow pulsed like a heartbeat, and she knew one thing for certain: whatever was coming, it wasn't just the rogues or the Council.
It was fate, and it was closing in.