Claws grated against the oak tabletop, leaving deep furrows across the yellowed parchment of the map.
"Repeat. Where exactly?"
The eldest of the Thorn brothers, Erik, wiped sweat from his brow, smearing road grime across his temple. His leather jacket smelled of rain and an exhausted horse.
"Grey Creek, Alpha. Three scouts. They didn't even try to cover their tracks. They walked right along the border, as if they were marking territory before entering a bedroom."
"They want to know if you're still alive after that skirmish in the forest."
Damian emerged from the shadows of the doorway so silently that even my wolf only twitched at the very last moment. He walked to the table, pulled back a heavy chair, and sat down, crossing his long fingers. His pristine black doublet contrasted sharply with the Thorns' ragged appearance.
"They are looking for confirmation of the rumors," Damian's gaze slid over my clenched fists. "That our Alpha has suddenly become... vulnerable. That his heart now beats outside his chest."
"Silverclaws don't attack until they catch the scent of rot," the younger Thorn, Mark, shifted nervously from foot to foot. "They're waiting. If we don't answer now..."
"We will answer."
I slammed my palm onto the map, pinning down the image of the western slope. The wolf inside me howled, demanding an immediate hunt, demanding to tear the throats of everyone who dared breathe the scent of my land. But the cold calculation that had seeped into my bones along with the title of Alpha held the beast on a chain.
"If we simply send out a patrol, they'll retreat," Damian tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lips. "They'll vanish into the fog, only to return in a week and slaughter a couple of omegas on the outskirts. Is that what you want, Cale? An eternal game of cat and mouse?"
"Your proposals always smell of blood, Damian. Speak plainly."
"Why chase a shadow when you can force the shadow to jump into the trap itself? The Silverclaws need proof of your weakness. So give it to them. Show them what they so desperately crave to see. The most fragile thing you possess."
The air in the hall grew thick. I felt the hackles on my neck rise, even though I remained in human form.
"No."
"She is the perfect instrument."
Damian leaned forward, his voice becoming seductive, like the hiss of a snake in dry grass.
"A quiet, frightened human girl. Your mate. The entire castle knows you've kept her under lock and key not just out of spite, but to hide her. Bring her into the light. Let them see her 'stroll' near the Rotting Pit. With minimal protection."
"You're suggesting I expose Alina to their vanguard?" I felt my fangs begin to lengthen, scraping against my gums. "You forget yourself."
"I am suggesting we end this war with one blow," Damian didn't even flinch. "As soon as they lung for the 'easy prey,' we close the bag. The Thorns will be waiting in ambush at the ravine. I'll take the left flank. You—the center. We'll cut out the heart of the Silverclaws in a single evening."
"It's risky, Alpha," Erik shook his head, looking at the map. "If we don't make it in time... if they manage to reach her before us..."
"They won't."
I looked at Damian, trying to see even a drop of personal gain in his eyes. He always played the long game. Но right now, his logic was flawless and revolting at the same time. My beast strained to get out, wanting to rip the advisor's throat out for the mere mention of Alina as bait.
"Weaken the guard at the western wing," my voice sounded foreign, as if I were listening to someone else. "Leave visible gaps. Mark, take your men. You must be there, but so that not even a bird suspects an ambush."
"It will be done, Alpha."
"Cale, the bond..." Damian paused, his eyes gleaming cunningly. "She will feel your intent. You must be convincing."
"Get out. All of you."
When the heavy doors slammed shut, the silence of the hall crushed me. A log snapped in the fireplace, showering sparks. I closed my eyes and concentrated. The bond pulsed somewhere beneath my ribs—a dull, dragging ache. Fear. She was afraid. Alina was always afraid, but now that fear was sharp, like a shard of glass. She was somewhere deep in the castle, locked within four walls, and yet she felt the darkness gathering over her.
I walked to the bell pull and yanked it sharply.
"Guard!"
The door creaked open.
"Bring Alina. To the lesser hall. Right now."
The wait stretched for an eternity. The rain outside intensified, turning into a solid wall of water. When she entered, I didn't even turn around. I could smell her—lavender, old paper, and that unbearable, sweet scent of human panic.
"Come closer. To the table."
She froze three steps away from me. Her fingers convulsively crumpled the hem of her grey dress. She didn't raise her eyes, staring at my boots.
"Cale? Why... why so late?"
"Do you know who the Silverclaws are, Alina?"
I turned sharply. She flinched, retreating half a step. Pale, fragile, with dark circles under her eyes. The perfect victim.
"I... I've heard the servants talking. Enemies of the pack."
"Enemies who are standing at our gates," I closed the distance between us, feeling her begin to tremble. "And do you know why they are here? They sensed weakness. My weakness."
I grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. Her pupils dilated, swallowing her irises.
"I didn't do anything... I didn't leave the room, just as you ordered!"
"Your very existence is an invitation to them," I spat the words, feeling everything inside me flip from my own lies. "Your inability to protect yourself, your constant whimpering... the Silverclaws think the Alpha has gone soft for keeping such a useless creature near him."
"Please, you're hurting me..."
I seized her arm above the elbow, tightening my fingers on her thin skin. She let out a cry, a quiet, broken sound that made my wolf snarl in fury. But I didn't let go.
"Who did you speak to?" my voice dropped to a growl. "Which of the servants did you complain to about your lot? Who is passing news beyond the walls?"
"No one! Cale, I swear, I don't talk to anyone! Only the maid brings food..."
"Your loyalty is in question, Alina. The bond tells me of your fear, but not of your fealty."
I shoved her toward the table, looming over her, trapping her in the circle of my arms. The map rustled under her palms.
"Do you want to live? Or are you waiting for other wolves to come and 'free' you from me?"
"I have nowhere to go..." her voice broke into a whisper. A tear rolled down her cheek, falling directly onto the Rotting Pit on the map. "Cale, why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you are my burden. And it's time for you to become useful."
I looked at her trembling lips, at the pulsing vein on her neck, right above the mark I had left. She was completely in my power. Crushed, terrified, not understanding that her life had just become a bargaining chip in a grand game.
"Say it."
"What... what should I say?"
"Say that you belong to me. That your life is my property, and I can do with it whatever I see fit."
She sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut.
"I... I belong to you. My life is yours."
"Louder. Looking me in the eye."
She raised her eyelids. There was such hopelessness in her gaze that for a moment I wanted to cast this plan aside, pull her to me, and tear out the throat of anyone who made her look that way. But the image of Damian and the cold facts of the Thorns' report sobered me.
"I belong to the Alpha," she said, and her voice no longer trembled. It was dead. "Do what you must."
I slowly loosened my fingers on her arm. Purple bruises from my grip were already beginning to surface on her white skin.
"Tomorrow you will go to the creek. At dawn. Unescorted."
"Will I die there?" she asked so simply, as if she were talking about the weather.
"You will do as I command."
I turned away to the window, signaling her to leave.
"Out. And don't hope that your tears will change anything."
I heard her hasty, stumbling footsteps. The door closed, and the hall was plunged into silence again, broken only by the sound of the rain.
"She will play her part magnificently," Damian stepped out from the shadow behind the tapestry. "Such genuine terror cannot be faked. The Silverclaws will swallow the bait, hook and all."
I didn't turn around. I looked at my reflection in the dark glass.
"If a single hair falls from her head, Damian... if your calculations are off by even an inch..."
"Oh, Alpha," a blatant mockery touched his voice. "We both know you've already made your choice. The pack is more important than one omega. Isn't that what your father taught you?"
I remained silent. Deep in my chest, the bond with Alina no longer pulsed with pain. There was an emptiness. A cold, ringing silence that only comes before the bloodiest of storms.
"Prepare the men," I threw out without looking at him. "And see to it that no one dares approach her before dawn. She must remain in the dark."
"As you wish, Cale."
When he left, I walked to the map and traced my finger over the wet trail of her tear.
"Forgive me, little wolf," flashed through my mind, but my lips remained tightly pressed together. In this war, there was no room for forgiveness. Only for victory. And if the price of that victory was her total destruction, I would pay that price.
The rain outside turned into icy sleet, drumming against the glass like the claws of a beast trying to break inside. Tomorrow, the forest would be stained red.