The forest pressed close around Eve, its silence unnerving, its shadows too deep for comfort. She had told herself she only needed air, that a walk away from the suffocating lodge might ease the weight pressing on her chest. But the truth was sharper, harder to admit: something was pulling her into the woods. The bond hummed beneath her skin like an invisible thread tugging her forward, and though every instinct screamed to turn back, her feet carried her deeper.
Mist clung low to the ground, wrapping around her boots as if trying to hold her still. The cold bit at her cheeks and seeped through the thin sleeves of her shirt, but she barely felt it over the restless thrum in her blood. She tried to focus on the crunch of frost beneath her steps, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, but the silence of the forest unsettled her more with each passing minute. No birdsong, no rustle of small animals—only the echo of her own movement, as though the trees had swallowed every other sound.
It was the laugh that froze her. Soft, lilting, threaded with something dangerous. It slithered through the mist, raising the fine hairs on her arms. Eve stopped dead, her pulse spiking, eyes darting between the skeletal branches. "Who's there?" Her voice sounded thin against the vast hush of the forest.
The answer came not in words but in the slow, deliberate appearance of a figure. She emerged from between the trees as though she had been there all along, her presence too graceful, too confident to belong to an ordinary intruder. Silver hair spilled over her shoulders, gleaming like liquid light even in the dimness, and her eyes glowed a predatory gold. Every movement was controlled, measured, and sharp, like a predator who had no need to rush.
Eve's breath hitched. The woman was beautiful in a way that unsettled, the kind of beauty that cut. She knew, before the stranger even spoke, that she was standing in the presence of someone powerful. Someone dangerous.
"Lost, little human?" the woman asked, her voice smooth as silk, threaded with menace. She tilted her head, golden eyes glinting. "Or are you testing how far Kaelen's leash reaches?"
Eve's chest tightened. Her mouth went dry, but she forced herself to stand straighter, though fear dug claws into her spine. "Who are you?"
The woman's lips curved into a smile, slow and deliberate. "Names carry weight," she said softly. "But perhaps mine has already reached your ears." She stepped forward, the mist parting around her like obedient servants. "Seraphine."
The name struck like a blow. Eve had heard it whispered in the lodge, in the uneasy silence after council meetings and in the mutters of wolves who thought she wasn't listening. Seraphine. Alpha of a rival pack. A threat wrapped in elegance and blood.
"You shouldn't be here," Eve said, though her voice quavered. "This is Kaelen's territory."
Seraphine laughed lightly, as though amused by the attempt at defiance. "Kaelen's territory? My, how quickly you speak as though you belong to him. How loyal." She closed the distance between them with slow, unhurried steps until only a few paces separated them. "But you're mistaken. These woods belong to the Moon, and the Moon bows to no Alpha. Not even yours."
"I'm not his," Eve snapped before she could stop herself. The denial burst out too fast, too sharp, betraying more than she intended.
Seraphine's smile deepened, cruel delight sparking in her eyes. "Oh, but you are. I can smell it on you. The bond clings like smoke. Your pulse stutters when I speak his name, your breath trembles when you think of him. You're tied to him in ways you can't begin to grasp." She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that slid cold against Eve's skin. "And that, little human, makes you the perfect weapon."
Eve's stomach knotted. Her breath came shallow as her body screamed to move, to run, but her legs wouldn't obey. "Weapon?" she managed to force out, though her voice cracked.
"Every Alpha has a weakness," Seraphine said, circling her now with the ease of a wolf toying with cornered prey. "For years I thought Kaelen had none. He is ruthless, unyielding, impossible to sway. A fortress of stone." Her eyes narrowed, glowing like molten metal. "But then fate handed him you. A little human with no claws, no pack, no strength. Do you think his enemies won't notice? Do you think they won't use you to bring him down? One strike at the right moment, and the mighty Alpha will fall to his knees."
The mist thickened as if conspiring with her words, curling around Eve's ankles, rising like a shroud. Eve's heart hammered, her hands trembling at her sides. She wanted to argue, to deny, but deep down she couldn't. She had felt it herself—the way Kaelen reacted to her, the way his emotions bled into her through the bond. If she was taken, if she was harmed, it would tear through him.
Seraphine studied her silence with the sharp satisfaction of a predator savoring a kill. "You see it, don't you? You've felt it. The way he changes when you're near, the storms you stir in him. You are the crack in his armor, the blood in the water. And when war comes—and it will—you'll be the first piece they tear away."
"Why are you telling me this?" Eve whispered, forcing her voice to steady despite the trembling that wracked her. "Why not just… do it yourself?"
For the first time, Seraphine's smile faltered. Her gaze sharpened, cutting deeper. "Because I don't need to dirty my hands. Fear will do the work for me. Suspicion. The pack already whispers, doesn't it? They look at you and see weakness. They see the leash that will choke their Alpha. They'll turn on him themselves once they realize what you cost." She stepped closer, so near Eve could see the faint scar along her jaw, the cold gleam in her eyes. "I only came to see if you were as fragile as they think."
Her lips curved again, slow and cruel. "You are."
Something inside Eve snapped. Rage flared hot enough to cut through her fear, igniting a spark of defiance. She clenched her fists, her voice low but steady. "I'm not a pawn. Not for you. Not for anyone."
Seraphine's laughter rang out, silvery and sharp, echoing through the trees like a spell. "Brave words," she purred. "But bravery doesn't stop fangs from tearing flesh. Remember this, little human: when the blood spills—and it will—you'll see just how sharp a pawn can cut."
With that, she turned, the mist curling around her form as though the forest itself swallowed her whole. One blink, and she was gone, leaving only silence and the faint echo of her laughter.
Eve stood rooted, her body trembling, her breath shallow in the cold night air. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if she could steady the frantic pounding of her heart. The forest seemed darker now, heavier, every shadow whispering danger.
She forced herself to move, stumbling back along the path she had come, every step carrying Seraphine's words like a brand in her mind. You are his weakness.
By the time the lights of the lodge flickered through the trees, Eve's legs shook with exhaustion. She paused at the edge of the clearing, dragging in a ragged breath. She should tell Kaelen what had happened, she knew that. She should warn him. But the memory of Seraphine's golden eyes and cruel smile twisted inside her.
If she was truly his weakness, then telling him would only prove Seraphine right.
And the thought of being the crack in Kaelen's armor—of being the weapon that could destroy him—terrified her more than Seraphine's threat ever could.