The forest was silent.
Cold.
Holding its breath.
Matteo stood in the center of the blood-soaked circle,
eyes glowing crimson,
claws glinting under the broken moonlight.
The air stank of iron and fear.
And across from him…
Dubio crawled from the dirt,
shaking, bleeding,
his black fur torn in ragged patches from the fight.
Golden eyes dim but still burning.
Fear
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
The ring of wolves stood frozen,
their shadows long in the moonlight,
their gazes locked on Matteo as if he had risen from the dead.
"This can't be real," one whispered.
"He's… both," said another, voice trembling.
Even the night wind refused to stir.
Matteo slowly raised his head to meet their stares.
His crimson eyes glowed like coals,
burning straight through them.
"You wanted to see what I am," he said quietly,
his voice cutting like a blade.
"Now you know."
Dubio growled low in his chest
a broken sound
and staggered onto his trembling legs.
His claws dug into the dirt
as if he could anchor himself to the earth,
as if that would stop the shaking.
Matteo began to walk toward him,
step by step,
like death made flesh.
Each step echoed in the silent clearing.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
"Matteo, stop!"
Kiaro darted forward, eyes wide,
her braid flying behind her.
"This isn't you."
He didn't look at her.
Didn't blink.
His eyes stayed locked on Dubio
like a predator who had already decided.
"You tried to kill me," Matteo said,
his voice like stone cracking.
"You called me an abomination."
Dubio bared his teeth weakly,
but there was fear buried deep in his golden eyes.
Real fear.
"Do it," Dubio rasped.
"Kill me."
The Silence
The circle went still.
Every wolf held their breath.
Matteo stopped right in front of him.
His claws hovered inches from Dubio's throat.
One strike.
That's all it would take.
End the prince.
End the hatred.
End the war before it can start again.
Everything inside him screamed for it.
The wolf wanted blood.
The vampire whispered for vengeance.
But then…
He saw Kiaro.
She stood just outside the circle,
fists balled tight,
her chest rising and falling fast.
Her eyes were wet with fear.
With hope.
"Don't become them," she whispered.
"Please."
Matteo's claws trembled.
Images flashed through his mind like lightning
his mother's face,
her blood on the snow,
the way the pack had cheered when they burned his father's body.
They called them monsters.
And now here he stood,
about to become one.
The silence stretched so thin it screamed.
Then…
Matteo pulled his hand away.
The whole circle gasped.
Even Dubio.
The black wolf crumpled to the ground with a ragged snarl,
claws digging weakly at the dirt.
His breath came in sharp, shuddering pulls.
Matteo stood over him,
red eyes dimming but still glowing faintly,
his shadow long and dark over Dubio's fallen form.
"I won't kill you," Matteo said,
his voice quiet
but sharp enough to cut bone.
He turned his back on Dubio,
not as mercy
but as a warning.
Dubio's ears flicked back,
his whole body trembling.
Matteo paused,
and without looking back,
he spoke one last time.
"But remember this…
You drew blood first."
He stepped out of the circle.
And as he walked,
every wolf stepped back.
Not out of respect.
Out of fear.
They flinched from his shadow
as though he carried fire.
Some lowered their heads.
Others wouldn't even meet his eyes.
None dared speak.
The weight of their stares pressed against his skin
like invisible claws.
This was not victory.
This was something darker.
Something they could never unsee.
Kiaro moved to his side,
her steps light, hesitant,
as if she feared he might vanish if she touched him.
Her voice shook when she spoke.
"They will never forget this," she whispered.
Matteo stopped walking.
The forest was quiet again,
except for the pounding in his chest.
He looked at her,
eyes still faintly glowing.
"Good," he said softly.
"Neither will I."
Behind them, the circle broke.
Wolves began to move again,
their voices rising in hushed, shaken murmurs.
"He should be dead," one said.
"No one survives Dubio."
"He's not one of us," another muttered.
"He's something else."
Something else.
Matteo heard them.
Every word.
And part of him agreed.
His claws slid back into his skin,
his fangs fading,
his heartbeat slowing from a war-drum to a whisper.
But the power stayed.
Coiled deep in his blood,
restless and hungry.
He didn't know what it would make of him.
What he would become.
But for tonight,
he had shown them all.
The boy they called half-blood
was not half of anything.
He was more.
And they had made him this way.