Clara's POV
Ryker was waiting by the fire, one hand cradling a crystal glass, the other tucked behind his back like a general surveying his battlefield. He looked up as I entered, and the tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly."You didn't throw him off the cliff," he murmured, amused."Tempting," I said, taking the glass from his hand and sipping. "But I prefer my victories slow. Measured. I want him to watch the world move on without him."Ryker smiled, but there was something darker underneath it—pride laced with something deeper. "You command a room better than any alpha I've known.""That's because I had to learn how to command silence first," I said. "And once you master silence, the rest follows."He studied me, more serious now. "They'll try to discredit you. The council. The nobles. Even your own blood.""I know," I said, setting the glass down. "Let them. I'm not here to be liked. I'm here to lead."He stepped closer, voice dropping to something intimate. "And if they try to stop you?""I hope they try," I said, heat curling around every syllable. "Because I won't just tear down the throne. I'll burn the roots it was grown from."Ryker's eyes darkened with something like reverence—and hunger."I'll stand with you," he said. "Whatever war comes."I didn't doubt that. But I also knew that standing with me meant painting a target on his back. Lucas wouldn't take this quietly, and the other packs? They would see me as a threat wrapped in lace and fury.Let them.Before the moon had risen to its peak, word had already spread beyond Blackmoor's walls: the Omega Queen had returned.Not a rumor. Not a whisper.A reckoning.And I would make sure every soul who once called me weak learned that even shadows can grow teeth.This time, I wouldn't run.This time, I would rule.The moon hung low over Blackmoor when the first raven came.It landed on the balcony rail outside my chambers, black feathers shimmering with an unnatural sheen. Not a sound escaped it—no caw, no ruffle of wings—just a long, unnerving stare, and then it dropped the scroll tied to its leg.Sora retrieved it before I could cross the room. She sniffed it first—cautious, always—but handed it to me with a grim nod.The seal wasn't from the Northern packs or any court loyal to Ryker.It bore the sigil of the Obsidian Thorne.My blood chilled."They shouldn't even know you're here yet," Sora said under her breath."They do now," I murmured, breaking the seal.Inside was a simple message:
"A Queen cannot rise from ashes without awakening what burned her."
—D.There was no signature. There didn't need to be.Dorian Thorne. The exiled alpha who once tried to unite the rogue clans with blood and fire. The one Lucas had betrayed… and I had once trusted.Sora cursed quietly. "He's back.""He never left," I whispered. "He was waiting."Ryker entered moments later, a fresh wound on his temple. He didn't speak until he closed the door behind him."There was another raven at the war barracks," he said. "Same message. Same seal."I handed him the parchment. He read it, jaw tightening."He's baiting you.""He's warning me," I said. "Dorian was many things—a tyrant, a tactician—but never a liar.""And what exactly is he warning you about?" Ryker asked, gaze sharp."That Lucas didn't just make enemies when he ruled," I replied. "He created monsters. Ones even he couldn't control."Sora crossed her arms. "And now they're crawling out of the dark because they smell power.""No," I said slowly, "because they smell change. And that scares them."A knock sounded at the door, crisp and urgent. One of the guards stepped in, eyes wide with alarm. "Your Grace… there's a fire. At the eastern wall. It's—"."Too contained to be an accident," I finished for him.A message. Not an attack.Dorian was reminding me that he still played the long game.I turned to Ryker, my voice calm and cold. "Summon the outer pack scouts. Double the guards. And send word to the Eastern Border: if Dorian Thorne steps foot on this land, I want to know before he breathes our air."Ryker nodded, already moving.But I stood still, staring out at the horizon, where the faint flicker of smoke blurred the stars.The past wasn't done with me. Neither was Dorian.And in the ashes of my rise, something darker was stirring.Because even Queens cast shadows.And some shadows... remember how to bleed.I stayed by the window long after the others had gone.The raven was gone, too, leaving behind only a single feather. I picked it up, rolling it between my fingers. It shimmered black-blue in the moonlight—beautiful, unnatural, and laced with foreboding.I knew Dorian's games. He didn't threaten with teeth—he whispered through cracks, seeded doubt, turned allies into ghosts. And the fact that he'd reached me inside Blackmoor's walls meant someone had helped him.Someone on the inside.A soft knock this time. Not a guard. I knew the rhythm."Enter," I said.It was Elia—my cousin and, by blood, a direct heir to the Eastern line. She'd arrived days earlier, under the guise of alliance talks. Her long silver cloak trailed behind her like mist as she stepped into the chamber."You got the raven," she said.I arched a brow. "You knew it was coming?"She didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked to the hearth and poured herself a glass of the spiced wine left untouched on the side table."Dorian's been making offers," she said finally. "To anyone who'll listen. Promising territory. Power. Blood-forged pacts.""And you listened?" I asked, tone sharp."No," she said, then met my gaze. "But others will."