The scent hit me before the iron gates even groaned open.
Pine needles, expensive leather, and a hint of the sandalwood soap my father used. It was the smell of my old prison. My stomach did a slow, nauseating flip, but I didn't let my hands shake. I didn't let the girl who cried on the ballroom floor take the wheel.
Gabriel stood beside me in the shadows of the Great Hall, his presence a silent, towering wall of ice. He didn't touch me, but the heat radiating from him was a tether, keeping me grounded.
"They're here," I whispered, the words tasting like copper.
"Let them come," Gabriel replied, his voice a low vibration that seemed to settle the very dust in the air. "Today, they learn that the Wastes do not return what they have taken."
The heavy doors swung wide. Sunlight spilled across the black stone floor, illuminating a small delegation. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the man at the front. Not my father. Not Logan.
It was Elder Thorne, the Silver Moon's chief diplomat—the man who had drafted my exile papers with a smirk on his face. Behind him stood four elite guardians, their hands resting arrogantly on the hilt of their silver-edged blades.
They walked into the hall as if they still owned the air I breathed.
"Alpha Gabriel," Thorne began, his voice oily and practiced. He didn't even look at me at first. "The Silver Moon Pack sends its greetings. We are here to retrieve a piece of... lost property. A girl named Aria who fled our borders. We understand she has been seeking refuge here."
Gabriel didn't move. He didn't even blink.
"Lost property?"
Thorne finally turned his gaze toward me. He looked at my black tunic, my bruised knuckles, and the way I stood feet apart, shoulders back. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a condescending sneer.
"Aria," he said, clicking his tongue. "You've caused quite a headache. Your father has reconsidered. The pack needs... information about the anomaly that occurred during your departure. If you come back now and cooperate, the Alpha might commute your exile to mere house arrest."
A laugh bubbled up in my throat—dark, jagged, and entirely unfamiliar.
"House arrest?" I stepped forward, out of Gabriel's shadow. The Silver Moon guardians reached for their swords, but a single, lethal growl from the shadows behind the pillars Gabriel's men made them freeze.
"You seem to be under a delusion, Thorne," I said, my voice steady enough to cut glass.
"You didn't lose me. You threw me away. You signed the scrolls. You witnessed the rejection. I am a Rogue. By your own law, I owe the Silver Moon nothing but the dirt on my boots."
Thorne's face flushed a deep, angry red. "Careful, girl. You are speaking to an Elder. You have no rank here, no wolf, and ..."
"No wolf?" I interrupted.
I let the silver fire stir. I didn't shift not yet but I opened the door just a crack.
The air in the hall suddenly felt pressurized, as if a storm had been condensed into the room. My eyes didn't just change color; they ignited, pouring out a luminescent silver light that reflected off the black walls.
Thorne stumbled back, his eyes bulging. The guardians behind him fell to their knees, their wolves whimpering audibly in their chests as my "Primal" aura slammed into them like a physical tidal wave.
"Is this the 'wolf-less' failure you're looking for?" I asked, my voice echoing with a double-tone my own and the ancient roar of the White Wolf.
"What... what are you?" Thorne gasped, clutching his chest, his face turning a sickly grey.
"I am the consequence of your arrogance," I said. I walked toward him, each step heavy with the weight of a thousand years of forgotten power. I stopped inches from his face. "Go back to my father. Go back to Logan. Tell them that Aria is dead."
I leaned in, my silver eyes burning into his.
"Tell them that the Primal has woken up. And tell Logan... to keep my throne warm. I'm coming for it, but I won't be sitting on it. I'll be burning it to ash."
"Enough," Gabriel's voice rang out, a sharp command that cut through the tension. He stepped forward, his abyssal eyes fixed on Thorne. "You heard her. Now, leave my mountain before I decide that your heads would make better decorations for my gate than your tongues."
Thorne didn't wait for a second invitation. He scrambled to his feet, tripping over his own robes as he and his "elite" guardians fled the hall, the sound of their frantic footsteps echoing into the distance.
The silver light in my eyes faded, leaving me trembling from the sheer rush of power. The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with the realization of what I had just done. I had declared war.
I felt Gabriel's hand on my shoulder. His touch was no longer just a tether; it was an acknowledgment.
"You handled that well," he murmured.
I turned to him, my heart thudding. "They'll come back with an army, won't they?"
Gabriel's dark smile returned the one that promised ruin. "Let them. I've been bored for a decade, Aria. I think it's time the world remembered why they fear the dark."
He looked at me, his gaze dropping to the scar on my cheek—the one I'd earned in the training ring. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of it.
"The hunt has officially begun," he whispered. "Are you ready to be the predator?"
I looked at the closed doors, then back at the man who had seen my fire when everyone else saw ash.
"I've been the prey my whole life, Gabriel," I said, a cold, sharp ambition crystallizing in my chest. "It's someone else's turn to run."