The chain bit into Kael's wrist every time he shifted on the cot.
Not deep enough to bleed. Just enough to remind him he wasn't going anywhere.
The tent smelled like damp canvas, smoke, and the faint copper tang of old fights. Moonlight leaked through the rip in the roof—thin silver stripe across his chest. It felt like a finger tracing where the wolf wanted to come out.
He didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
Every time his eyes closed, the alley replayed: fist connecting, bone cracking, the guy's face going slack. Then Darius's voice layered over it. *I gave the order. Yes.*
And Elysia's mouth moving. *Forgive me.*
He stared at the canvas ceiling. Counted breaths. Tried to make them slow. They wouldn't.
The chain rattled when he tugged it again. Pointless. Solid.
Outside, the camp had gone quiet. Fire popped once in a while. Low voices drifted—too far to make out words. Wolves didn't whisper like humans did. Their murmurs carried weight.
Footsteps approached.
Soft. Careful.
Kael tensed. Sat up. Chain pulled taut.
The flap lifted an inch. Moonlight caught dark hair.
Liora.
She slipped inside. No gun this time. Just a tin plate in one hand, small cloth bundle in the other.
She didn't speak at first. Just crouched a few feet away. Set the plate down—bread, some dried meat, a dented metal cup of water.
Kael stared at it. Stomach growled. He ignored it.
"You didn't eat," she said. Quiet.
"Not hungry."
"Liar."
She unwrapped the bundle. Clean bandage. Small jar of something that smelled sharp, herbal.
"Your wrist," she said. Nodded at the chain. "It's raw already."
Kael looked down. Skin red and scraped. He hadn't noticed.
He pulled his sleeve down. Covered it.
"I'm fine."
She didn't move. Just watched him.
After a long beat she spoke again. Softer.
"I didn't know he was going to say it like that. About your father."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You knew he did it."
"I knew the story. Pack version. Hero turned monster. Necessary kill." She looked at the ground between them. "I was twelve. They told us it saved everyone."
"And you believed it."
"I wanted to."
Kael let out a breath. Sharp. "Why are you here?"
She lifted the bandage. "Your wrist."
"Bullshit."
She met his eyes. Steady. Tired.
"Because I couldn't sleep either."
Silence stretched. The chain clinked when he shifted.
Kael finally spoke. Rough. "You were supposed to kill me. In the park."
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
She hesitated. First real crack he'd seen in her.
"I pulled the gun," she said. "Finger on the trigger. Then you looked at me. Not angry. Not scared. Just… lost. Like you'd been lost a long time."
Kael looked away. Throat tight.
She continued. "I've killed before. Rogues. Hunters. Threats. Never someone who looked like they were still hoping the world wasn't this cruel."
He laughed—dry, hollow. "You think I'm hoping?"
"I think you're still deciding."
She moved closer. Slow. Knelt beside the cot. Reached for his chained wrist.
Kael pulled back. Chain rattled hard.
"Don't."
She stopped. Hand hovering.
"I won't hurt you," she said.
"You already did."
Her face flickered—something like pain. Gone fast.
She lowered her hand. Sat back on her heels.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Kael stared at her. Really stared.
She looked smaller in the dark. Less like the hunter who'd tracked him. More like someone carrying too much.
He let his arm relax. Just a little.
She reached again. Slower.
This time he didn't pull away.
Her fingers were cool against his skin. Careful. She wiped the raw spot with the cloth—gentle, almost tender. Then opened the jar. Smoothed the salve on. It stung cold, then warm.
Kael watched her hands. Strong. Scarred knuckles. Calluses on her palms.
"You do this a lot?" he asked. Quiet.
"Patch people up? Yeah. Wolves bleed too."
"No. Lie to them."
She paused. Looked up.
"I'm not lying now."
He searched her face.
She didn't look away.
After a moment she tied the bandage. Tight but not cruel. Then sat back.
Kael flexed his wrist. Chain clinked softer.
"Better?" she asked.
He nodded once. Barely.
She stayed there. Cross-legged on the dirt floor.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Kael asked, "What's the real reason Darius wants me?"
Liora glanced toward the tent flap. Listened. No one close.
"He thinks the curse can be… redirected. Controlled. If you turn alpha under his guidance, he believes he can siphon the power. Make himself stronger. Untouchable."
Kael's stomach turned. "And if I don't?"
"Then the curse kills the pack anyway. Slowly. One bad moon at a time. Or he kills you first. Cleans late."
Kael stared at the bandage. "And you're okay with that?"
"No."
She said it fast. Like it had been waiting.
Kael looked at her.
"I brought you in because I was ordered," she said. "Because running from an order gets you killed faster than following it. But I'm not okay with it."
"Then why stay?"
"Because someone has to be close when it goes wrong." Her voice dropped. "And because I don't want you to die alone."
Kael felt something shift inside him. Not the wolf. Something quieter. Warmer. Dangerous.
He looked at her. Really looked.
She looked back.
For one long second the tent felt smaller. Air thicker.
Then she stood. Sudden.
"I should go."
Kael nodded. Didn't trust his voice.
She turned to the flap.
Paused.
Looked back.
"If it comes to it," she said softly, "I won't let him break you."
Then she slipped out.
The flap fell.
Kael sat in the dark again.
Bandage warm on his wrist.
Her scent lingered—pine, smoke, something faintly sweet underneath.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep didn't come.
But the wolf inside felt… calmer.
Waiting.
Patient.
Hours passed.
The camp stayed quiet.
Until it didn't.
A sharp crack split the night—high, bright.
Light bloomed outside the tent. Red-orange flare arcing across the sky.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
Shouts erupted. Low growls. Feet pounding dirt.
The flap tore open.
Darius stood there. Silhouetted against the flare light.
Face calm.
Eyes bright.
He looked at Kael.
Smiled.
"Time to show the boy what silverblood really means."
He stepped inside.
Two wolves behind him—armed, tense.
Darius crouched. Eye level.
"Get up," he said. Voice soft. Almost kind.
Kael didn't move.
Darius reached out. Grabbed the chain. Yanked.
Kael lurched forward.
Pain flared in his wrist.
Darius leaned close.
"Outside. Now. Hunters are at the perimeter. They want your head on a spike."
Kael stared back.
Darius's smile didn't waver.
"And if you don't come… I'll let them have your mother instead."
Kael felt the wolf rise—fast, hot, no warning.
Claws scraped the cot.
Teeth lengthened.
Darius stood.
Looked down.
"Good," he said. "That's more like it."
He turned to the wolves.
"Bring him."
They grabbed Kael's arms.
Dragged him out into the night.
The flare still burned overhead—red as blood.
Hunters' howls echoed from the trees.
And somewhere in the chaos, Kael saw Liora—standing apart, face pale, eyes locked on him.
She didn't move to help.
But her hand rested on her gun.
And her finger twitched.