The morning began with tension so thick it buzzed through the air like a warning growl.
Selene woke to the sound of boots pounding against the packhouse floors, urgent voices echoing through the halls. The vibration of it all—chaotic, charged—settled uneasily in her bones. She threw on a cloak and stepped into the corridor just as two warriors rushed past, their faces tight with grim purpose.
Something was wrong.
She followed the noise, weaving around scattered warriors and startled servants until she reached the war wing. The doors to the council chamber stood ajar, the faint sound of low voices leaking through.
Inside, Kael stood at the head of the long obsidian table. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense, one hand braced against the carved wood as if the act of standing upright required effort. His jaw was clenched tight, his silver eyes stormy. Even from a distance, Selene could tell he was in pain. Still hiding it. Still pretending.
Around him, his top warriors and elders stood in a semicircle that hummed with rising unease. Marcus, as always, stood to his right, arms crossed tightly, a vein throbbing in his temple.
"They've sent a messenger," Marcus said, voice clipped. "Three enemy packs—Talonfang, Ironhide, and Crimson Ridge. They know you were injured. And they're circling like vultures."
Kael's voice was low and seething. "Let them circle. We'll bury the first one who crosses our border."
"But if they think you're too weak to lead—" someone began.
"I'm not weak," Kael growled.
Selene saw it—that flicker of pain in his eyes as he spoke. The truth barely hidden behind the fury. The curse was eating him alive, faster now, dragging him closer to the edge. It was only a matter of time before the others saw it, too.
An elder stepped forward, voice heavy with warning. "The Alpha of Talonfang has issued a Trial. If you refuse, they'll claim the right to raid our southern border."
Marcus cursed under his breath, shooting Kael a hard look. "You can't afford to fight like this. Not with that wound festering."
"If I don't fight," Kael bit out, "we lose respect. If I do and collapse in the ring… we lose everything."
Selene's heart thudded painfully in her chest.
This wasn't about ego anymore. If Kael showed weakness now, even for a second, it would be blood in the water. War would follow. Their enemies wouldn't wait. The pack, already tense, could fracture beneath the pressure.
She stepped into the room before she could stop herself.
"They can't see you bleed."
Every head turned.
Kael stiffened. "Selene—"
But she pressed on. "Hide it. Distract them. Make them see strength, even if you're cracking underneath."
There was a beat of silence.
"You think fear can be faked?" Kael asked, his voice sharp.
"No," she said. "But power can be performed."
There was no mockery in her voice. No challenge. Just truth.
And he heard it.
Later that day, Selene stood on the upper terrace, the wind tugging at her cloak as she looked down on the front courtyard. The enemy envoy had arrived.
Three wolves from the Talonfang pack dismounted at the gates. Their leader—Alpha Rovan—stood taller than the others, a massive brute of a man with dark skin, thick braids, and blood-red tattoos winding down both arms like creeping vines. His mouth curled into a smirk as he scanned the grounds, as if already imagining them under his control.
Kael emerged from the inner gate flanked by Marcus and two elite warriors. His steps were slow, deliberate. Commanding. Every line of his body spoke of strength… but Selene saw it. The stiffness in his gait. The twitch in his fingers. The barely concealed sag of his shoulders when no one watched.
But to anyone else, he was flawless. Untouchable.
"I heard you were injured," Rovan said, his smirk widening.
Kael didn't blink. "You heard wrong."
"I offer a challenge," Rovan declared. "Tomorrow. Trial of Claws. No wolves. No magic. Just men. First to yield breaks his claim."
Marcus stepped forward, fury rising in his tone. "You come here demanding a duel without even confirming if he—"
Kael raised a hand. Silence fell.
"I accept," he said.
Rovan grinned. "Then I'll see you in the pit. May your gods show mercy."
He turned and stalked off, his warriors close behind.
Selene watched Kael's face as they disappeared beyond the trees.
There was no fear there. No outward panic.
But there was something deeper.
Resignation.
That night, Selene went to his chambers without knocking.
Kael sat at his desk, hunched slightly, blood slowly staining the side of his shirt. He didn't turn when the door opened. Didn't look at her when she stepped inside and closed it behind her.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
She crossed the room and knelt beside him. "Let me help."
He didn't move. But he didn't stop her either.
She peeled back the shirt slowly. The wound had worsened — the skin around it darkened, veins branching out in sickly tendrils. Her fingers trembled as she dipped the cloth in warm water and pressed it against the skin.
He flinched.
"Sorry," she murmured.
His hand darted out, wrapping around her wrist. His touch wasn't cruel, just desperate.
Their eyes met. For a moment, the room went still. The world narrowed to the space between them.
"You're going to die if you don't let someone in," she said softly.
He didn't let go.
"I already have," he said.
Selene froze.
"You walk into my silence and treat it like a challenge," Kael went on, voice rough. "You see my anger and stand closer instead of running. You care when you shouldn't. And every day, I find it harder not to look at you like you're the answer to a question I stopped asking a long time ago."
Her chest ached.
"I'm not here to fix you," she whispered. "But I won't watch you fall alone."
She cleaned and wrapped his wound in silence after that, the air between them charged and fragile. His breathing slowed. His muscles eased. And for the first time since she had met him, he looked tired. Not just in body—but in soul.
When she tied the final bandage, she rose to leave.
But his voice stopped her.
"Selene."
She looked back.
His expression was unreadable. But his eyes held something she hadn't seen before. Not anger. Not indifference.
Hope.
Or the smallest flicker of it.
She nodded once, then slipped out the door.
Behind her, Kael slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time.
He couldn't afford to want her.
But gods help him… he already did.