Lena did not sleep.
She stood at the high table in the council chamber long after the elders had dispersed, hands braced against cold stone, eyes fixed on the map carved into its surface. Silverclaw Territory spread beneath her palms in raised ridges and etched waterways, ley veins marked with faintly glowing inlays that pulsed in time with the mountain's heart.
Every line represented lives. Borders she was sworn to defend. Ground the Bloodbound coveted.
And now, possibly, bait.
Her father's sigil burned in her mind.
It was impossible. She had stood over his body herself and had felt the last flicker of his bond fade into nothing. The grief had nearly crushed her. It had shaped her into the Alpha she was now.
Dead was dead.
And yet.
The Bloodbound did nothing without intent. If they were wearing his mark, it was either deception meant to unbalance her or something far worse.
A quiet knock sounded at the chamber entrance.
"Enter," she said without turning.
Rowan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He did not speak at first. He never did when she was like this. He waited, presence steady and grounded, a silent anchor she had not asked for but felt all the same.
"They confirmed the scouts' report," he said finally. "The envoy arrives before dusk."
She exhaled slowly. "Bold."
"Provocative," Rowan agreed. "They want you emotional."
"They will be disappointed."
He said nothing, but she felt his skepticism through the bond. No doubt in her strength. Concern for the cost.
Lena straightened and turned to face him. "What are they saying in the den?"
"That you are being tested," Rowan replied. "That the Bloodbound are forcing your hand. Some believe the High Moot will fracture under pressure. Others believe it is the only thing that might save us."
"And you."
"I believe they want to see whether you will rule as Alpha or react as a daughter."
The words were careful. Honest. They landed hard anyway.
Lena crossed the chamber, stopping just short of him. "And what do you believe I will do?"
Rowan met her gaze. "Both. And neither. You will do what keeps Silverclaw alive."
Her jaw tightened. "You sound very certain."
"I have seen you in battle," he said. "And I have seen you in grief. You do not break. You adapt."
She searched his face, then looked away. "Adaptation comes with scars."
"So does stagnation."
Silence settled between them, weighted but familiar now.
"You should not be here," she said quietly. "If this is a trap."
"I am exactly where I should be," Rowan replied. "If they mean to strike at you through memory, through blood, then I will stand between you and that blade."
She closed her eyes briefly. The bond pulsed, warm and unyielding.
"You cannot shield me from everything," she said.
"I know," he answered. "But I can try."
She turned back to the table, tracing the eastern ridge with her finger. "The envoy will be granted safe passage. They will speak before the council. Publicly."
Rowan stiffened slightly. "You are giving them a stage."
"Yes," Lena said. "And a leash. They will not expect restraint."
"They may force your hand anyway."
"Let them try."
Her voice carried steel now, Alpha command sharpening every word. Rowan nodded, accepting the decision even as tension coiled through him.
"Then I will be at your right," he said.
She glanced at him. "That will be noticed."
"Everything already is."
That was true. Since the terrace, since the oath, since the bond had flared openly in defense of the pack, there was no illusion of separation. Whether she acknowledged it or not, Rowan Vale was tied to her in the eyes of Silverclaw.
And in the eyes of its enemies.
The horns sounded at dusk.
Lena stood at the head of the outer hall, clad in ceremonial armor etched with ancestral runes. The weight of it settled comfortably on her shoulders. It reminded her who she was when doubt crept too close.
The pack assembled behind her in disciplined ranks. Elders to either side. Rowan at her right, as promised.
The gates opened slowly.
The envoy entered alone.
He wore dark leathers marked with Bloodbound sigils that crawled faintly with blue light. His movements were smooth, unnatural in their precision. His eyes glowed faintly, not wolf gold but something colder.
Around his neck hung a familiar emblem.
Her father's sigil.
The bond flared violently.
Lena did not move. Did not react. She forced her breathing steady, her expression unreadable.
"You stand before Alpha Lena Silverclaw," she said, her voice ringing through the hall. "State your name and purpose."
The envoy inclined his head, mockery threaded through the gesture. "I am called Irix. I come bearing words from those who walk the moon's deeper paths."
"And stolen symbols," Lena said coldly.
A thin smile curved his mouth. "Nothing is stolen that is freely given."
Murmurs rippled through the pack.
Rowan's presence tightened beside her, contained fury humming beneath his skin.
"You wear my father's mark," Lena continued. "Explain yourself."
Irix's gaze flicked briefly to Rowan, then back to her. "Your father yet lives. Changed. Enlightened. He sends his regards."
The hall erupted.
Growls. Cries of disbelief. Rage surged like a living thing. Lena lifted her hand, Alpha's command snapping through the chaos. Silence fell hard and immediately.
Her heart pounded, but her voice did not waver.
"You lie."
Irix chuckled softly. "He said you would say that."
The bond roared. Rowan shifted closer, his shoulder nearly brushing hers, grounding her without touch.
"If you wish proof," Irix continued, "he invites you to meet him. Under truce. Under moon witness."
Lena stared at him, fury and grief colliding violently beneath her control.
"You think I would walk into your den," she said, "because you dangle a ghost in front of me."
"I think," Irix replied, eyes gleaming, "that you will come because you must know the truth. And because you cannot afford to ignore what the Bloodbound now possess."
Rowan spoke then, voice low and deadly calm. "You presume much for a guest standing on borrowed ground."
Irix's smile widened. "And you presume safety because of proximity. How quaint."
The wards flared faintly, responding to the spike of hostile intent. Lena felt it ripple through the stone beneath her boots.
"This meeting is over," she said. "You will leave my territory alive because I allow it. Return to your masters and tell them this."
She stepped forward, gaze burning into Irix.
"Silverclaw does not bow. Not to relics. Not to corrupted wolves. And not to the ghosts of our dead."
Irix inclined his head once more. "The invitation stands. When you are ready."
He turned and walked back toward the gates without another word.
As the doors closed behind him, the tension in the hall snapped.
Lena exhaled slowly, the weight of command settling fully into place.
Rowan turned to her. "That was not a bluff."
"No," she said. "It was bait."
"And will you take it?"
She met his gaze, something fierce and vulnerable burning there.
"Yes," she said quietly. "But not on their terms."
The bond pulsed in fierce agreement.
The war had just become personal.
And Lena knew that the choice she would make next would reshape not only Silverclaw's future but also the balance of power across every pack bound to the moon.