Keona woke to silence.
Not the familiar silence of chambers she shared with Nyra, or the council chambers of the Black Mane but a softer quiet, broken only by the distant crackle of fire and the low murmur of voices. She blinked, the ceiling above her carved from smooth stone rather than timber.
Her body ached everywhere. Heat lingered in her veins, the ghost of fire still burning faintly in her chest.
"You're awake."
The voice snapped her head to the side. Darius sat in a chair near the bed, his broad frame hunched forward, hands clasped loosely. The scar at his temple caught the firelight. His gaze was steady, guarded, but softened when it met hers.
"You carried me," Keona murmured, memory rushing back in fragments—the dreadwolves, Selene's mercenaries, the fire ripping from her body, then the rival Alpha's arms.
"Yes," Darius said simply. "You would have died otherwise."
"And Kalethorn just let you walk out of Black Mane with me?" Keona asked, shocked.
Darius smiled faintly. "He couldn't engage me while I had you in my arms. I guess he didn't want to risk hurting you in the process."
Keona scoffed. "I find that hard to believe, Kalethorn doesn't care about me."
Darius sighed, "And that is unfortunate for him. However, your crazy friend insisted she would come with us. I believe that's another reason why Kalethorn let me walk out with you."
At the mention of 'crazy friend' a ghostly smile appeared on Keona's lips. But it quickly faded and her throat tightened. "And now the whole pack thinks I belong to Ironcrest."
Darius leaned back, exhaling. "Not think, Keona. They heard it. My words were a claim." His eyes searched hers, unflinching. "Since Kalethorn keeps rejecting you, Ironcrest will not. I wanted them all to know it. Kalethorn is foolish for rejecting a precious beauty like you."
Keona blushed and looked away. He called her precious and beautiful, Kalethorn had never said that. The weight of it pressed on her chest. A claim was no small thing—it was political, public, binding in the eyes of wolves who measured loyalty in blood and oaths. To be claimed was to be shielded… but also possessed.
She shook her head weakly. "I don't need saving."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "No. You don't. But you deserve to be chosen."
The words landed like a pebble in her chest. No one had ever said that to her before.
Before she could answer, the doors slammed open. Nyra stormed in, her arm still bandaged from the battle, eyes blazing. "Keona, are you—" Her gaze cut sharply to Darius. "You've had your moment Dravenmoor. Don't mistake gratitude for trust."
Darius rose slowly, towering over them both, but his voice stayed calm. "You burst in here like a crazed wolf Nyra, you need to calm yourself. Besides, trust isn't what I seek. Truth is. The Black Mane elders will twist her power into fear. Selene already sharpens her knives and Kalethorn…" His jaw tightened. "He will have to choose."
Nyra's lip curled. "And you'd happily see her torn apart in the middle of it just to deepen your rivalry."
Keona raised her hand, her voice steadier than she felt. "Stop! You two. I'll face Kalethorn myself."
The air grew thick between them.
—————
The Black Mane council hall seethed with tension when they arrived. Word of Darius's claim had already spread—warriors lined the edges of the hall, murmuring in restless clusters, eyes darting between their Alpha and the rival one.
Kalethorn stood on the dais, every inch the heir of the Blood Moon throne—tall, authoritative, features set with fury he barely contained. Selene lingered at his side, her smile sharp as broken glass.
When Keona entered, silence fell. She could feel their stares, the weight of judgment and curiosity pressing on her like a physical force.
Darius stepped forward first, his voice carrying with effortless authority. "During the attack, I declared before your pack what should have been declared long ago—that Keona Stormfang is not to be cast aside as cursed. I also stated that if Black Mane Howlers reject her, I and the rest of Ironcrest will have her."
The murmurs rose again, sharp and discordant. Some huffed in outrage, others whispered agreement.
Kalethorn's eyes locked on Keona. The tension in them nearly broke her composure.
He growled at Darius, "I let you walk out of here with her Darius, don't push your luck any further. You speak as though she is yours to barter," his voice cutting through the racket. "But she is not. She is—" His words faltered, just a breath too late, and every elder leaned closer.
Selene's hand slid onto his arm, possessive. "She is nothing dear," she said sweetly, loud enough for all to hear. "A cursed orphan who can't even shift. Let Ironcrest take her if they wish. Better they waste themselves on her than we risk corruption in our bloodline."
The crowd rippled with murmurs again. Elandra the seer stiffened where she stood among the elders, her eyes narrowing.
Keona's fists clenched, her fire flickering faintly under her skin.
Darius turned slowly to Selene, his voice calm but lethal. "You call her cursed, yet she alone has stood against dreadwolves when your Luna-to-be cowered behind guards." His dark eyes cut back to Kalethorn. "Tell me, Alpha—who truly shamed your pack at dawn? The silvertail, or the one who hides behind wicked whispers?"
The crowd exploded, half shouting, half roaring. Wolves snarled under their breath, torn between loyalty and doubt.
Kalethorn's aura flared, his voice a command. "Enough." The air trembled with the weight of it. His gaze fixed on Darius. "You dare insult my Luna before me? You dare to stake a claim on what is mine?"
Darius bared his teeth in something between a smile and a threat. "Your Luna insults herself already by stooping so low. Regarding what you claim is yours, you have to prove it."
The words hung heavy, an unspoken challenge.
Every wolf present knew what it meant: one Alpha's claim contested by another could end only in dominance—or blood.
Keona's breath siezed. Her heart hammered.
This was spiraling too fast.
Before she could speak, Selene's laugh sliced through the air, brittle and triumphant. "Do it, Kalethorn. Crush him, my love. Crush them both."
The crowd howled, torn between bloodlust and unease.
Kalethorn's eyes flicked once, only once, to Keona—just long enough for her to see the war raging inside him. Duty. Rage. Desire. And something that seemed like Regret?
Then he stepped down from the dais, every line of his body promising violence. He moved close to Darius, whispering to him. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but since you have the gall to repeatedly invade my home, and challenge me in it before my people, we'll take this to the square. Maybe that will shut you up finally and keep you from Keona permanently."
Darius smiled mischievously, "Nothing you do will keep me away, but it's good you're stepping up Fenrow."
—————
The crowd moved to the square, the air filled with tension as everyone present looked on. Keona fidgeted and grabbed onto Nyra's arm for support.
She turned to Nyra. "I never wanted this. I don't need them both fighting over me, this escalated quicker than I expected."
Nyra's expression was wooden, but her words were firm. "It wouldn't have gotten to this point if Kalethorn hadn't rejected you in the first place."
Keona said nothing else and turned back towards the two Alphas.
The square falls silent as Kalethorn faces Darius in the center, their auras colliding like cyclones. The first clash is imminent, and the pack knows one truth: whichever Alpha wins, Keona's fate will be sealed.