THE STRANGER IN THE DOOR
Rowan's cry cut the room like a snapped twig. It was small and shocked and terrible. For a second Kael thought the whole world stopped—wind, breath, even the wood of the hut seemed to hold itself still.
Then Kael moved.
He shoved the door hard. The man at the threshold stumbled back. A flung hand had grabbed at Rowan; small white fingers were wrapped around air. The man was quick—too quick—and had a cloth over his mouth like smoke. He lunged again.
Selene shoved forward with a ferocity Kael had never seen in her. She was a wall that hit the intruder first. Her shoulder caught him and knocked him sideways. The man swore, low and ugly. He reached for Rowan's sleeve.
Kael's hand closed on the man's arm like iron. The cloth smelled sharp—wine and herbs and something sour. The man pulled. Kael felt the muscle roll under his grip. He twisted and drove his shoulder into the man's chest. The intruder fell, sliding across the threshold and into the cold night.
Outside, hooves or boots hit the ground. Voices rose. Not polite voices. Not offers. The sound of men who had come to take. Kael's lungs filled with cold air and the hunger to kill.
Ronan moved before Kael could think. His blade was out like a thought. He struck the first shadow that tried to come forward and the sound of metal sounded like a warning. Lyra's hands moved quick for herbs, and Thorne pushed his staff like an old branch but with the right strength.
The leader at the gate barked something sharp. Mara's men were steady in the moonlight. The stranger Kael held spat blood and cursed. His eyes were set like a trapped animal's. Kael could feel fear and something worse behind them—orders.
"Who sent you?" Kael demanded. His voice was a low drum.
The man laughed, a small broken thing. "We came clean," he said. "Varek sends terms. He sends proof. He sends—"
"You lie," Selene said. She was white at the mouth, but hard as stone. Her hands pressed to Rowan like a lock.
The man's lip split in a smile that was no smile. "The lord of Bloodhowl sends seeds into your house," he said. "He sends men who take what is owed. You are fool to think you could hide him here."
Kael's grip tightened until his knuckles hurt. The man tried to pull free and found he could not. Kael could feel every small hair on the man's arm. The man's breath came in quick bursts.
From outside came the sound of a horn—long and low. It rolled over the ridge like a warning bell.
Ronan swore. "They call the clans," he said. "They sound the war-horn."
Thorne's old eyes went wide. "The ridge breaks fast—more than a scout."
Mara's face was a mask of calm. She moved forward, each step measured like a line in a law book. "You will hand him over," she said. "Varek has offered a bargain. Your stubbornness will burn your people."
Selene's hand trembled on Rowan's back. She looked at Kael like he had the map to the stars. "You promised," she whispered. "You said you would not let them take him."
Kael wanted to say a thousand things. He wanted to promise and lie and fight. He wanted to tear Mara from the soil and make the pack right. He wanted to carry Rowan into the dark and never come back.
Instead he held a man who would not die and watched the horn fire cut the sky. He felt the weight of being an Alpha like a stone on his chest. There were rules. There were men who trusted his decisions. There were hands inside Stormfang that would turn his choice into war or shame.
The stranger gasped, "Master said—Master said Mara opens the way."
The hut fell into a silence so heavy it had weight. Selene's fingers dug deep into Rowan's coat. For a slice of a breath, Kael saw the woman he had loved all at once—small, tired, full of a hurt he had not dared to imagine.
"You—" Kael began.
The man spat blood. "He wanted proof you hid the child. He wanted the pack to accept his terms. He paid us coin and promises. We did the rest."
Mara's jaw twitched like a horse. "I did what I must," she said. Her voice had no plea in it. "I will keep the pack. If Varek cares to test us, we will not meet his blade half-bent."
Kael's blood ran cold. Part of him slid down a slope and felt the pull of rage that could break bones. Part of him felt a keen, clean pain—like a man who found a fault in a bridge only after it cracked.
Selene's shoulders shook. Rowan's breath was small and fast. He did not know what had nearly taken him. He only knew his mother's arms were tight and he was warm.
"Let him go," Selene said. Her voice held something new—demand and plea in the same cup. "If you want me to stand, then stand with me. Not against me."
Mara's eyes went cold like glass. "You left the pack," she said. "You left your duty. You have no claim."
"You forget the law you once swore," Kael said. "You forget what I am. I will not yield my son to Varek's hand."
Mara smiled then, small and empty. "You can promise blood and lead. But Varek is patient. He waits. He will not waste his men for a stubborn crown."
Kael felt the cold of the night deep in his bones. He could feel a dozen paths branching from his choice. He could take Rowan and vanish, become the lord of two hearts the pack would call traitors for. He could hand Rowan and face the slow inside of a blade that would never stop cutting. He could fight openly and shed his land in fire.
The stranger barked a laugh. "Decide, Alpha. Varek's men wait. The ridge is full of eyes."
From the open doorway, a torch winked on the ridge. Another answered. A small river of light slid along the line like a slow-moving snake. Voices rose. Men and wolves layer by layer. The sound felt like the coming of winter.
Kael looked down at Rowan. The boy's wolf eyes, pale and old in their own way, looked back up. There was a simple trust there that untied something in Kael's chest. He wanted to keep that trust. He wanted the child to believe the world was good. He wanted Selene's hurt to heal.
His hand tightened on the stranger until the man hissed.
"Take him," Kael said then—not words of surrender, but a plan. "Take him to the edge. I will not let you cross pack land with him. You bring him to the river. There I will meet your terms and we will decide."
Mara's laugh was like a blade being wetted. "You bargain with wolves," she said.
The leader at the gate lifted his chin. "We will wait at the northern stream," he said. "At dawn you bring him or we take him."
Ronan's jaw worked. Thorne ground his teeth. Lyra crossed herself like a woman who feared worse things than death.
Selene looked at Kael like she had been pulled across a long line of hot coals. "Is that safe?" she asked, voice small.
Kael swallowed. He felt the pack's breath on his face. He felt his own name like a thing to bear. He had a choice that would carve him.
He looked at-rowan's small face and thought of all the nights he had not been there. He thought of the way Selene had kept the child alive on a border no one respected. He thought of how Varek would use the boy as a spear against him.
"Dawn," he said. "We meet at dawn."
A torch flared on the ridge. Men moved like a slow wave. Mara drew a breath. The stranger laughed low.
Rowan's eyes closed for a moment, tired. Selene held him close. Kael felt the world tilt like a ship.
At the edge of the hut a new sound rose—a howl that replied to the war-horn. It was long and full and hungry.
From the ridge, a voice cut the night cold and sure. "Bring him, Kael Stormfang. Bring him, or we take him by force."
Kael swallowed the answer. He could see the first pale line of dawn on the far trees. The river waited in the dark like a silver knife. Dawn promised decisions.
And the man at his feet smiled with teeth that smelled of wine and old promises.