Chapter 5 – Teeth Behind Smiles
The meeting ground at the border was a place where history bled into the soil.
Once, it had been the site of a massacre—Bloodmoon and Silverfang wolves tearing into one another under a full moon, their howls echoing into the mountains. Now, a wide circle of cleared earth lay between the two packs, marked by standing stones etched with runes older than either clan's memory.
Kaelen stood at the center of the Bloodmoon delegation, his black leather coat open enough to show the hilt of his sword. Torren stood just behind him, scanning the Silverfang ranks like a hawk searching for prey.
Elira kept her position slightly to Kaelen's left—close enough to imply trust, far enough to avoid drawing too much attention. Or so she hoped.
The Silverfang Alpha approached.
Rordan Silverfang was broad-shouldered, his hair the color of frost under moonlight. His eyes were the cold grey of a winter river, and when he smiled, it was a thing made for deception.
"Kaelen," Rordan said, voice smooth as oiled steel. "It's been… far too long."
Kaelen didn't smile. "Some would say not long enough."
Rordan's gaze slid toward Elira, lingering just a moment too long. "And you've brought a… companion. How delightful. Bloodmoon has been so reclusive lately—I feared you'd forgotten how to make introductions."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. "This is Elira. She tends to matters within my household."
"Ah." Rordan's expression didn't shift, but the interest in his eyes sharpened. "And here I thought she might be something more."
Elira felt the weight of that look, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she dipped her head in a gesture that could be taken as deference—or defiance, depending on the angle.
The Silverfang Beta stepped forward, handing a rolled parchment to Rordan. He unrolled it, displaying a hand-sketched map.
"This," Rordan said, "is the matter we wish to discuss. Our trade caravans have been forced to take longer, more dangerous routes through the mountains because your patrols have been… overzealous at the border."
"They've been protecting Bloodmoon territory," Kaelen said evenly.
"They've been harassing Silverfang merchants," Rordan countered. "And while I'm certain you'll claim it's all a misunderstanding, misunderstandings have a way of turning into bloodshed. I'd prefer to avoid that."
Kaelen stepped closer, closing the gap between them until only the standing stone separated the two Alphas. "If you want to avoid bloodshed, stop sending your 'merchants' with silver-tipped weapons hidden in their wagons."
The temperature of the air seemed to drop. Several Silverfang wolves shifted their weight, the tension rippling through their ranks.
Rordan didn't look away. "Perhaps I should have brought wine, so we could toast to your talent for accusations."
"Perhaps you should have stayed in your den," Kaelen replied.
Torren's low growl was barely audible, but Elira heard it. Her own instincts flared—every muscle in her body telling her this meeting was moments from turning into another massacre.
Rordan finally smiled again, but this one was sharper. "We'll speak again, Kaelen. Perhaps sooner than you think." His gaze flicked toward Elira one last time before he turned, his pack falling into step behind him as they retreated into the trees.
---
The walk back to the Bloodmoon keep was silent, but the moment they were inside the gates, Torren broke it.
"He knows," Torren said bluntly.
Kaelen didn't answer immediately. He was still moving, his long strides carrying him toward his study with the others in his wake.
"Kaelen," Torren pressed, "he looked at her like—"
"I know how he looked at her," Kaelen snapped, spinning on his heel. "And that's why we move fast. He's going to send someone into our territory. Spies, maybe worse. I want the patrols doubled tonight."
Torren gave a short nod and left to carry out the order.
Elira lingered in the hall, her hands clenched. "You didn't have to bring me there just to paint a target on my back."
Kaelen turned to her, his expression unreadable. "I brought you there because hiding won't work anymore. Rordan's already suspicious. If we act like there's something to protect, he'll tear at it until he finds out what it is."
Her heart pounded. "And what happens if he does?"
Kaelen stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Then I'll deal with him."
There was a weight in those words that made her shiver—not from fear, but from the certainty in them.
---
Later that night, Elira stood at her window, looking out over the moonlit forest. Somewhere out there, beyond the treeline, the Silverfang wolves would be moving. Hunting.
She didn't know for what—or who—but she could feel the storm building.
And storms didn't care about treaties.
A knock at the door pulled Elira from the window. She turned, half-expecting Torren with another terse update, but it was Maera, one of the older women of the household. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming cup, the scent of crushed mint drifting into the room.
"You'll need this," Maera said, setting it down on the table by the window. "The air out there is sharp tonight. It cuts deeper when your thoughts are tangled."
Elira gave a faint smile. "My thoughts are… a storm," she admitted.
Maera studied her for a long moment. The older woman's gaze was never just polite—it probed, weighed, and always seemed to see more than Elira was ready to share. "A storm can clear the air," Maera said finally. "Or it can tear down the trees. Best you decide which kind yours will be."
She left before Elira could answer.
---
Elsewhere in the keep, Kaelen stood over the great war table, a massive slab of oak scarred from decades of use. The map spread across it showed every ridge, river, and trail between Bloodmoon and Silverfang territory. His finger traced the border, stopping at a narrow mountain pass.
"They'll try here first," Kaelen murmured.
Torren leaned over the table. "The pass is narrow, but there are caves along the cliff. A good place for an ambush."
"Exactly why we'll let them come," Kaelen said. "But we'll be waiting."
Torren frowned. "You want to draw them in?"
Kaelen's eyes were cold as steel. "I want them to think we're blind. And then I want them to remember what it means to cross into Bloodmoon land."
---
Later, Elira found herself in the long stone hall that led to Kaelen's study. His door was half-open, the glow of lamplight spilling into the corridor. She hesitated before stepping inside.
He looked up immediately, his expression softening slightly—though only for her. "You should be resting."
"I can't," she said simply. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the way he looked at me."
Kaelen's jaw flexed, his hands curling into fists on the table. "Rordan thrives on fear. Don't give him that."
"I'm not afraid of him," she replied, stepping closer. "I'm afraid of what you'll do if he pushes too far."
That brought the faintest curve to his lips—a smile that wasn't really a smile. "If he pushes too far, Elira… there won't be anything left of him to fear."
---
The moon was nearly full, its silver light drenching the courtyard in pale fire. From the walls, patrols could be seen moving like shadows, their fur bristling under the night air.
Elira stood on the balcony just above the gate, the wind tugging at her cloak. She watched Kaelen in the yard below, speaking quietly to the night guard. His presence was magnetic—commanding without effort, his every movement precise.
But beneath that steel, she could sense the weight pressing down on him. She wondered how much of it was for the pack, and how much of it was for her.
---
A sudden, distant howl split the night. Not one of theirs.
Kaelen's head snapped toward the treeline.
Torren was already moving, barking orders. "Positions! Now!"
Elira's breath caught. Her fingers gripped the balcony rail as shadows emerged from the woods. Not many—five, maybe six shapes—but their movements were deliberate. Testing the border.
Kaelen didn't hesitate. "Hold the gate," he called up to the guards. "They're baiting us. They want to pull us into the forest where they have the ground."
One of the shapes stepped forward into the moonlight, and Elira saw the glint of silver on a weapon.
Her pulse raced. This wasn't just a test—it was a message.
And she had the chilling sense that the message was meant for her.
The intruders halted just beyond the outer ring of torchlight, their eyes gleaming like shards of glass. The leader stepped forward, a tall figure draped in wolf pelts, the silver-tipped spear in his hand catching every thread of moonlight. His grin was a slow, deliberate thing—more taunt than greeting.
Kaelen descended the stone steps from the gate, each bootfall echoing like a drumbeat. "You're a long way from Silverfang territory," he called, his voice carrying the weight of command and the promise of blood.
The man's smirk deepened. "We were merely… wandering. The forest belongs to no one."
"Wrong," Kaelen said, drawing closer. "Every tree, every stream, every shadow you're standing in belongs to Bloodmoon."
The stranger tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Bloodmoon… ah, yes. The pack with the soft Alpha who hides his Luna behind walls." His gaze flicked upward to the balcony where Elira stood.
Kaelen's stance shifted in an instant—subtle, but deadly. "One more step toward that gate, and you won't leave with your throat intact."
The Silverfang leader chuckled, spinning the spear lazily. "We'll see each other again, Alpha. And next time… perhaps we'll bring a gift."
At his signal, the shadows melted back into the forest as if swallowed by the night itself. The air they left behind seemed colder.
---
Elira hurried down from the balcony, meeting Kaelen just inside the gate. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, but his hand found her shoulder in a quiet, grounding touch.
"They're probing," she said, her voice low.
"They're hunting," Kaelen corrected. "And they think they've found prey."
Her gaze held his. "Then make them see they're wrong."
Kaelen's lips curved into a smile without warmth. "Oh, little wolf… I intend to."
---
That night, the keep was restless. Patrols doubled. The howls of distant wolves bled into dreams and kept even the bravest warriors half-awake. In the war room, Kaelen stood alone before the fire, his thoughts circling like predators.
They had made the first move. The next one would be his. And it would not be a warning.
From the shadows, Elira watched him, the flickering light painting his features in gold and crimson. There was a darkness in him now, one she had only glimpsed before—and it frightened her not because she feared him… but because she feared how much she understood it.
The forest was quiet by dawn. Too quiet.