The Council chamber smelled of old stone and older lies.
Darius Zane stood at its center, boots planted on the black sigil etched into the floor—an emblem of authority, obedience, and blood. Tall pillars rose around him like silent judges, their surfaces carved with the names of packs long erased. Wolves who had defied the Council. Wolves who had lost.
Above him, the High Council watched.
Seven figures sat in a crescent of shadow, their faces obscured by veils of magic and tradition. Only their voices carried weight here—voices that decided who lived, who died, and who was remembered as a traitor.
"The murders are escalating," one of them said. "Rogues are gathering again."
"They always do," another replied coolly. "Fear breeds chaos."
Darius said nothing. He had learned long ago that silence unsettled them more than defiance ever could.
"The Omega," a third voice cut in. "Ivy Thorne. She was seen near two of the sites."
Darius's jaw tightened a fraction.
"She is not the killer," he said.
The chamber stilled.
Slowly, the veils shifted.
"That is not your determination to make," the first voice replied. "Your task is execution, not interpretation."
Execution.
The word echoed through him, heavier than usual.
"She is bait," another Councilor said. "Whether knowingly or not. Her bloodline attracts dissent."
Bloodline.
Darius's mind flickered—chains biting into a man's wrists, a wolf who refused to kneel, eyes filled not with fear but with resolve.
If anything happens to me, they'll come for her.
He had dismissed those words then. He did not dismiss them now.
"You will bring her in," the Council decreed. "Alive, if possible. Dead, if necessary."
Darius bowed his head, the motion automatic.
"As the Council commands."
But something had shifted.
For the first time in over two centuries, Darius Zane stepped out of the chamber knowing—without illusion—that the Council was lying.
And worse.
That he was being tested.
Ivy Thorne had learned the hard way that forests remembered.
They remembered blood spilled between roots, whispered vows, the way screams carried through branches long after mouths had gone silent. The deeper she traveled, the more the woods pressed in around her, heavy with a sense of watchfulness.
She stopped at the edge of a ravine, breath shallow.
Someone else was here.
Not Council.
Not Darius.
The scent hit her a heartbeat later—familiar, sharp, painfully intimate.
Her fingers trembled.
"No," she whispered.
A figure stepped out from behind a twisted oak, hands raised slowly, deliberately. Her hood fell back, revealing a face Ivy knew as well as her own.
Lena.
Her childhood best friend.
The girl who had shared her bed during storms. Who had sworn they'd run away together. Who had vanished the night Ivy's pack burned.
"You're alive," Ivy breathed.
Lena's smile was soft. Careful. Wrong.
"So are you," she said. "Against all odds."
Ivy didn't lower her dagger.
"You disappeared," Ivy said, voice shaking despite herself. "I thought you were dead."
"I was," Lena replied quietly. "Just not in the way you think."
The air between them crackled with tension—years of absence, grief, and unanswered questions pressing in.
"I've been looking for you," Ivy said. "After everything—"
"I know." Lena took a step closer. "I've been watching you."
That sent a chill down Ivy's spine.
"Why?" Ivy asked.
Lena's gaze flicked briefly to the trees, then back. "Because the war is coming. And you're standing in the middle of it."
Before Ivy could respond, the forest exploded into motion.
Council enforcers burst from the undergrowth, weapons drawn, eyes cold.
"RUN!" Lena shouted.
Ivy didn't hesitate. She sprinted, heart hammering, leaping over roots and rock as arrows tore through the air. One grazed her arm; pain flared white-hot.
She stumbled—
And the world went quiet.
Bodies fell.
Steel sang.
Darius.
He moved like death given form, precise and merciless. Enforcers dropped before they could scream, blood soaking into the forest floor.
Ivy skidded to a stop, chest heaving.
Lena stared in open shock.
"The Executioner," she whispered.
Darius's gaze locked onto Ivy—checking her, cataloging injury—before flicking to Lena.
Something about the other woman made his instincts snarl.
"Leave," he said to Lena.
She met his stare without fear. "You can't protect her forever."
"I'm not trying to," he replied. "I'm trying to end this."
Lena's smile returned, sharper now. "Then you should already know—you're too late."
She vanished into the trees before either of them could stop her.
Ivy rounded on Darius, fury blazing. "You knew they were coming."
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because," he said quietly, "you wouldn't have run."
She hated that he was right.
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths.
"They want me dead," Ivy said.
"Yes."
"And you?"
Darius met her gaze. "I was ordered to bring you in."
Her grip tightened on her dagger. "And?"
"And I disobeyed."
That hit harder than any blow.
"You're lying," she said.
"If I were lying," he replied evenly, "you wouldn't be breathing."
The truth of it settled like ash.
Far away, thunder rolled.
Lena watched from a ridge, eyes dark with something like regret.
"The war has begun," she murmured.
And this time—
They would all remember.