The morning came heavy with silence.
Not the kind of silence that brings peace—but the kind that squeezes around your lungs and refuses to let go. My ears strained against the quiet, searching for any familiar rhythm of the forest. The birds were gone. No rustle of prey, no crack of twig. The trees stood frozen, holding their breath.
Something was wrong.
I stepped out of the stronghold barefoot, feeling the frost bite into the soles of my feet. My senses spread across the trees like smoke. I tasted the air. Cold. Stale. Tainted. A scent lingered that didn't belong to the forest, didn't belong to the wolves, didn't even belong to the dead.
It belonged to the damned.
Vampires.
They were close.
I turned to Jarek, who was already suited up with the others. His eyes met mine without question. He smelled it too.
"They crossed the river again," he said.
I nodded. "And they're not alone this time."
That was when I saw the first crow.
It landed on the ridge overlooking the stronghold. Then another. Then three more. A wall of black wings and beady red eyes stared down at us like omens carved from nightmare.
"Watch the girl," I ordered without looking back. "If they came for blood, she'll be the first they reach for."
Aria.
Her name pulsed through me like a heartbeat. She was still asleep, curled beneath the furs in my quarters, unaware that hell was gathering at our doorstep.
They wouldn't take her. Not while I still breathed. Not while my heart still pumped and my claws could tear.
I shifted.
The transformation always starts in the spine. A crack. A pulse. Then it spreads outward like wildfire. My muscles grew, skin stretching as the beast within surfaced, no longer hidden behind the man. My claws tore into the earth as my muzzle split the air with a growl that scattered the crows.
Fury hummed in every nerve.
We ran.
Fast and silent through the trees.
The warriors of my pack fanned out beside me, each one shifting in sync, the forest trembling beneath our pace. We weren't just wolves. We were shadows in motion. Ghosts of the wild.
And we were hunting.
The scent trail led us to the eastern ridge.
That was when we saw the first body.
A scout. Young. One of ours.
His throat was slashed wide open. Eyes frozen in terror. Blood soaking the roots where he had fallen.
Beside him was a mark. Scratched into the dirt.
A perfect circle, split down the center with two lines crossing through.
The blood crest of House Veyran.
The enemy wasn't just taunting us now. They were declaring war.
I howled.
The sound echoed through the trees, calling the rest of the pack to arms.
We moved forward, teeth bared, instincts sharpened. It didn't take long to find the others. They waited for us at the edge of the clearing—six of them, cloaked in black. Eyes like cold fire. Fangs gleaming beneath pale skin.
Vampire sentinels.
I stepped forward.
Their leader—tall, narrow-faced, with silver hair and an expression carved from stone—smiled at me.
"You must be the Alpha," he said.
I didn't answer.
He stepped closer. "My name is Thorne. I come with a message from Lord Veyran."
"Your kind isn't welcome here."
"We never were," he said with a shrug. "But that's not the point."
"What is?"
He smiled again. Too calm. Too sure of himself.
"Lord Veyran says you have something that belongs to him."
I felt it in my chest then. The pull.
He meant Aria.
The mark had tied her to me, but it had also drawn a target on her back. The blood of Seraphine was more than sacred. It was powerful. And the vampires wanted it for themselves.
"She is not his," I said, voice low.
"No," Thorne replied. "But she will be."
That was all the warning I needed.
I lunged.
Claws met flesh.
Fangs met bone.
The clearing became a war zone in an instant.
I took Thorne to the ground, ripping into him with every ounce of fury I had. He moved fast, but I was faster. His blood tasted foul on my tongue, but I didn't stop. Around us, my pack clashed with the other sentinels, teeth and blades flashing in the grey light.
Thorne laughed beneath me.
"You can't protect her forever, Alpha. He will come for her."
"Then let him," I growled, and crushed his throat in my jaws.
He turned to ash before his body hit the ground.
The others scattered.
But not before leaving behind one last sign—a symbol burned into the bark of a nearby tree. Veyran's seal. The war wasn't coming.
It had already begun.
By the time we returned to the stronghold, Aria was awake.
She stood at the gate in one of my old cloaks, her eyes wide, hands clenched tight.
"You're hurt," she said.
"Not mine," I replied.
"Was it them again?"
"Yes."
She looked past me, searching the woods as if she could see what we'd just done.
"They won't stop, will they?" she asked.
"No," I said. "Not until they have you."
Her face hardened. "Then we make sure they never get that chance."
I stared at her for a moment, and something shifted in me. Not the wolf. The man.
She wasn't just a girl anymore.
She was becoming something else. Stronger. Sharper. Like steel being forged in fire.
That night, I gathered the pack inside the great hall.
The fire crackled at the center of the room, lighting the stone walls with gold. Every warrior stood in silence as I stepped forward. Jarek flanked my right. Talia, the healer, on my left. Aria stood near the back, watching, listening.
"This war has reached our doorstep," I said. "Veyran has broken the old code. He has killed our scouts, poisoned our woods, and declared blood claim over one of our own."
My voice echoed through the hall.
"He believes we are weak. That we will run. That we will hide."
I paused, letting my eyes sweep over every face.
"He is wrong."
A growl rose from the crowd, low and unified.
"We are wolves. We do not kneel. We do not run. And we will not let him touch what is ours."
The growl turned to a roar.
I turned to Aria.
"She is under my mark. That makes her pack. That makes her family. Anyone who stands against her… stands against me."
And then I did what had to be done.
I pulled my blade from my belt, raised it to the fire, and drove it into the ground.
The old ritual.
A vow of blood and flame.
"We fight," I said. "Together."
And the pack howled as one.
Later that night, I found Aria sitting outside, watching the stars.
She didn't turn when I approached.
"They believe in you," she said.
"They have to."
She looked at me then. "What if we lose?"
I sat beside her.
"Then we go down with teeth in our enemies' throats."
She laughed, just a little. "You sound like you've already died a hundred times."
"Maybe I have," I said. "But every time I got back up, it was for them. For the pack. Now... it's also for you."
She went quiet.
And then she whispered something that nearly broke me.
"I don't want to be the reason anyone dies."
"You're not," I said. "You're the reason we live."
The silence that followed was heavier than before—but not in fear.
In understanding.
In connection.
The kind of bond that doesn't need words.
Just breath.
Just presence.
I dreamed again that night.
This time I saw the old world.
A forest made of silver trees. A throne of moonstone. And a woman with eyes like stars standing at its center.
She turned to me and spoke in a voice like wind and wolves and memory.
"Protect the Flame," she said.
I woke with my hands burning.
When I looked down, the mark on Aria's wrist had begun to glow faintly.
She stirred beside me, but didn't wake.
And I knew then…
Veyran was not the only danger.
Something older had begun to stir.
And whatever was coming next
Would test everything I thought I knew about this war
About my pack
About myself
And about her.