The ridge buzzed with tension, every wolf watching Rylan like he was a lit fuse. He didn't react to the hostility. He simply stood near the edge of the camp, arms crossed, gaze scanning the forest as if expecting the shadows themselves to attack.
Always alert.
Always dangerous.
Always aware of me.
I hated how aware I was of him too.
Rowan approached me quietly, his limp more pronounced now that the adrenaline had faded. "Walk with me."
I followed him to a secluded corner of the ridge, away from the wounded and the watchful eyes. The moment we were alone, his shoulders sagged, the weight of leadership settling heavily on him.
"Lyra…" he began, voice low. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I didn't know how," I whispered. "I didn't want it to be true."
He nodded slowly, jaw tight. "The bond is real?"
"Yes."
"And you feel it?"
I hesitated. "I feel… something."
Pain flickered across his face. Rowan wasn't my mate, but he'd always cared for me. Maybe more than he should have. Maybe more than I ever realized.
"I won't force you to reject him," he said. "But I need to know where you stand."
"I stand with the pack," I said firmly. "Always."
He exhaled shakily. "Good."
A howl echoed from the camp. A scout approached, panting, fur matted with sweat.
"Alpha Rowan! We found something."
We followed him to the edge of the ridge, where a group of wolves stood around a body.
A rogue.
Its eyes were open.
Pitch black.
Like ink.
Like void.
Like something had hollowed it out and filled it with darkness.
Rylan knelt beside it, expression grim. "Just like the ones that attacked us."
Rowan crossed his arms. "What are they?"
Rylan didn't answer immediately. He touched the rogue's neck, then its jaw, then its chest. His movements were clinical, practiced, like he'd done this before.
Finally, he stood.
"They're not rogues," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Rylan looked at me, eyes dark. "It means someone is controlling them. Someone powerful. Someone who wants war."
Rowan growled. "Who?"
Rylan hesitated.
And that hesitation told me everything.
"You know," I said softly.
Rylan's jaw clenched. "I have a suspicion."
"Then tell us."
He looked at Rowan.
Then at me.
Then at the rogue's black eyes.
"I think," he said slowly, "that the one controlling them… is someone from my pack."
The ridge erupted in chaos.
Growls. Shouts. Accusations. Wolves surged forward, some shifting halfway, claws scraping against stone. Rowan raised a hand, stopping them, though his own face had gone pale.
"Explain," Rowan demanded.
Rylan didn't flinch. "There's a wolf in my pack with… abilities. Dark ones. Ones he shouldn't have."
Rowan narrowed his eyes. "Abilities?"
Rylan nodded. "Shadow manipulation. Mind influence. He can twist weaker wolves. Bend them. Break them."
A chill ran down my spine. "That's impossible."
"It shouldn't be," Rylan agreed. "But it is."
Rowan stepped closer, voice low and dangerous. "Who is he?"
Rylan's gaze flicked to me, and something like pain crossed his face.
"My brother."
Silence fell like a stone.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
Rowan's expression hardened. "Your brother is controlling rogues?"
Rylan nodded once. "He's been experimenting for months. I thought I stopped him. I was wrong."
"And now he's attacking both our packs?" Rowan growled.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Rylan's jaw tightened. "Because he wants power. And he knows the only thing standing between him and the northern territories… is us."
Us.
Not Bloodfang.
Not Moonshadow.
Us.
The bond pulsed, warm and unwelcome.
Rowan paced, running a hand through his hair. "If your brother is as dangerous as you say, then we need to prepare for another attack."
Rylan nodded. "He won't stop. Not until one of us is dead."
"Then we kill him first," Rowan said.
Rylan's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—pain, regret, resolve. "I intend to."
Rowan turned to me. "Lyra. Stay close. I don't trust him."
"I don't either," I said.
Rylan's gaze snapped to mine. "You should."
I scoffed. "Why? Because of the bond?"
"No." His voice softened. "Because I won't let anything happen to you."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Rowan stepped between us. "She doesn't need your protection."
Rylan's jaw flexed. "She does if your pack is this injured."
Rowan growled. "Watch your mouth."
Rylan didn't back down. "I'm not your enemy."
"You're a Bloodfang," Rowan spat. "That's enough."
Rylan's eyes darkened. "And she's my mate. That's enough for me."
The tension crackled like lightning.
I stepped between them. "Enough. Both of you."
They fell silent, though neither looked away.
I turned to Rowan. "We need him."
Then to Rylan. "But don't think for a second that means I trust you."
Rylan's expression softened. "I don't expect you to."
The bond pulsed again—warm, insistent, confusing.
I hated it.
I hated him.
But as I looked at the rogue's black eyes, at the fear in my pack, at the shadows creeping through the forest…
I hated the alternative even more.