Mira's POV
The dagger was under Mira's pillow.
She could feel it there — cold, sharp, humming faintly even through the thin fabric. She hadn't slept. Hadn't even tried. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the family tree from Elara's office. All those names. All those dead.
And at the bottom: Mira Ashford. Alone.
She sat up. Grabbed the dagger. And made a decision.
If she was the last Ashford, she needed to know what happened to the rest of them.
The library was empty when she arrived.
Late enough that even the students who studied past midnight had gone to bed. The main room was dark — just the faint glow of moonlight through the high windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
Mira moved through it like a ghost. Silent. Careful. She'd been here before during the day, but never like this. Never hunting.
The forbidden section was at the back. Behind a heavy door with a lock that looked older than the academy itself.
Mira pulled the dagger from her belt. Slid the blade into the keyhole. Felt for the mechanism. Twisted.
Click.
The door swung open.
Inside, the air smelled like dust and old paper and something else — something that reminded her of graves. Rows of shelves stretched back into darkness, filled with books no one was supposed to read.
Mira stepped inside. The door closed behind her with a soft thud.
She found the Ashford records near the back. A single thin folder, wedged between files twice its size. Like someone had tried to make it small. Forgettable.
She pulled it out. Opened it.
The first page was a report. Clinical. Cold. Typed on a form with official seals at the bottom.
INCIDENT REPORT: ASHFORD PACK ELIMINATION
Date: Twenty years ago
Location: Ashford territory, northern mountains
Casualties: Full pack (47 confirmed dead)
Alpha Marcus Ashford: Deceased
Luna Helena Ashford: Deceased
Warriors, elders, children: Deceased
Survivors: Two (names redacted)
Cause: Territory dispute resolved through elimination
Authorized by: Representatives of the Five Great Packs
The next pages were lists. Names. Ages. How they died.
Mira's hands started shaking.
Her grandmother. Her aunts. Her cousins. Children younger than she was now. All of them reduced to a typed line and a cause of death.
No mercy in the words. No grief. Just facts.
Her whole family. Gone.
"Looking for your dead relatives?"
The voice came from behind her. Smooth. Amused. Close enough that Mira could feel the breath of the words against her neck.
She spun.
Asher stood there.
Not near the door. Not by the shelves. Right there—close enough to touch, like he'd been standing in the shadows the whole time, watching her read.
His eyes were ice-blue even in the dark. His smile was slow.
"Hello, Mira Ashford."
Her blood went cold.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. Her voice came out steady. Calm. A lie wrapped in control.
Asher laughed. Soft. Almost kind. The way you laugh at a joke only you understand.
"Yes, you do." He stepped closer. Not fast. Not threatening. Just — inevitable. Like water filling a space. "I know what you are. That scent you try to hide under all that human fear?" He inhaled, slow and deliberate. "Blood and power. Old magic trying very hard to stay buried."
Mira's back hit the shelves behind her.
"I'm Shadowbane," Asher continued. Still smiling. Still moving. "We know secrets. We see what others miss. We've been watching the Ashford line for twenty years, waiting to see if any of you survived." He tilted his head. "And here you are. A wolf pretending to be human, hunting in Omega clothing."
He stopped. Close enough now that Mira could see the exact shade of his eyes. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his mouth curved like everything in the world was entertaining and he was deciding which part to enjoy first.
"It's delicious," he said.
Mira's hand moved to the dagger at her belt.
Asher's eyes flicked down. Saw it. His smile widened.
"Your father's blade. I wondered where that went." He looked back up at her face. "Your father killed my uncle during the pack wars. Did you know that? Before the Five Packs came together to end him. The Shadowbanes have hated the Ashfords for generations."
Mira's fingers closed around the hilt. "Then you should hate me too."
"I should," Asher agreed.
He reached out.
Mira flinched — but he wasn't going for the blade. His hand caught her wrist instead. The one with the mark.
He turned it. Gently. Like handling something fragile. The crescent moon glowed faintly in the darkness, silver against her skin.
"But instead," he said, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, "I'm fascinated."
His thumb traced the edge of the mark. Once. Slow.
"Poor Kieran," he murmured. "Fated to his family's enemy. The girl whose father his pack helped slaughter. The bond must be tearing him apart."
Mira tried to pull her wrist back.
Asher held it. Not hard. Not painful. Just — firm. Unmovable.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" he asked. His eyes locked on hers. "A predator in prey's clothing. A queen pretending to be a servant. You're playing a game, Mira Ashford. And you're playing it well."
He leaned in. Close enough that Mira could feel the cold radiating off him. Close enough that she stopped breathing.
"I want to see what happens," he whispered, "when you finally stop pretending. When you bite back."
Then he did something Mira didn't expect.
He lifted her wrist to his mouth.
And kissed it.
Right over the mark. Soft. Deliberate. His lips were cold against her skin, and the moment they touched, the crescent moon burned—not like when Kieran had touched her, warm and alive. This was different. Sharper. Like ice pressed directly against a nerve.
Asher pulled back. Released her wrist.
"Your secret's safe with me," he said.
Then he stepped backward. Once. Twice. And the shadows around him moved — not like they were being pushed by his body, but like they were reaching for him. Wrapping around his shoulders, his arms, his face.
He smiled one more time.
And disappeared.
Not walked away. Not slipped through a door. Just — gone. Dissolved into the darkness like he'd never been there at all.
Mira stood alone in the forbidden section, her wrist burning where he'd kissed it, the Ashford file still open on the shelf behind her.
Her hands were shaking.
She looked down at the mark. It was glowing brighter than before. Pulsing. Angry.
And for the first time since the Trials, Mira understood what Lyra had said in the basement.
"Three alphas watching you."
Kieran. Her fated mate. Bound to her by magic she didn't choose.
Zane. Her protector. Who sat with her at lunch when no one else would.
And Asher. The watcher. The one who knew her secret and found it delicious.
Three alphas.
Three complications.
And every single one of them dangerous in a different way.
Mira closed the file. Put it back on the shelf. And walked out of the forbidden section with the dagger in her hand and the taste of cold still burning on her wrist.
She didn't look back.
But she could still feel him watching.