The next morning, the threat grew louder. Mira knew it is because of her.
Voices clashed in the hall beyond the bedroom. Elias had returned from patrol early, his eyes grave when he saw her.
"They left tracks near the eastern ridge. The Venari scouts are testing our borders."
Venari. The word alone made Mira's skin crawl. She had heard the stories. A pack of wildborns, raised outside the Code. Some called them cursed. Others called them kingslayers.
"Why now?" she asked.
Elias exchanged a look with Ash, who had joined them near the table, tying the belt of his robe tighter around his waist.
"Because of you," he said gently. "Because of your bloodline, Mira."
Mira blinked. "My bloodline?"
Ash stayed quiet.
"We don't have time to explain everything," Elias said, then softened. "But your mother wasn't just a healer. She was something... more. And the Venari know it."
Mira's throat closed up. Suddenly the chill in the air wasn't from the stone walls.
Ash dismissed Elias with a nod, his tone cool. "We'll talk about it when we're alone."
Alone?
The word echoed through Mira's veins like thunder.
She tried to clear her mind later by walking through the quiet corridors, but her thoughts spiraled. She needed clarity, but somehow, she needed space.
She returned to the quarters they shared, hoping Ash had gone to train or speak with the council.
But instead— a steam.
The room was thick with it. The door to the bath chamber was slightly ajar, golden light spilling onto the stone floor. She froze as she heard the sound of water splashing, followed by the low, indulgent sigh of a man.
Ash.
He was still in there. She should have turned away, and she should have left.
But she didn't.
Instead, her feet moved slowly, quietly, drawn by something she couldn't name.
The door creaked slightly as she leaned forward, eyes catching the silhouette of Ash through the foggy mirror. He stood with his back to her, water trailing down his back like silver.
Muscles rippled with every shift of his arms as he towel-dried his hair, unaware—or uncaring—that she stood there.
And then he turned.
Mira's breath caught.
He wasn't fully dressed. A bathrobe hung loosely over his hips, tied carelessly, exposing the curve of his chest and a line of glistening droplets that disappeared into the folds of fabric.
He looked up—and saw her.
"Enjoying the view?" he asked, lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
Mira flushed. "I—no! I thought you were out."
Ash stepped forward, water still clinging to his skin, eyes locked on hers like a hunter stalking prey.
The robe slipped slightly on his shoulder.
"And yet... you're here."
She stepped back. "I wasn't— I just wanted to—"
He moved closer. "To see if I was real? Or to see if I'd lied to you again?"
Mira's voice cracked. "You should have told me. About the blood. About the Elders. About... me."
Ash sighed. "You were never meant for this life. I kept you from it for years. I didn't want this for you."
She looked at him then—not as the man who saved her, not as the mate forced into her fate—but as something else.
As someone who had bled to protect her. As someone who would lie... just to keep her untouched.
"I don't know if I hate you or—"
Ash stepped closer, hand brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
"You feel something. That's enough for now."
His robe brushed her arm. Heat rose between them like another kind of fog.
Mira swallowed hard. She could smell him—earth, smoke, and something darker. Something purely him.
"Ash..."
He didn't kiss her. But he looked at her like he wanted to. Like he would, one day, when she was ready.
He stepped back finally, giving her space. Giving her the power to decide.
"Get dressed," he said quietly. "We need to talk to the council. The Venari are coming. And they know who you are, Mira."
Her pulse thundered.
"And who am I, exactly?"
Ash turned, hand gripping the edge of the door.
"You're the reason they'll come for war. And the reason they won't win."
Then he was gone, the echo of his words lingering like the steam he left behind.
And Mira stood frozen in the bath chamber, staring at the faint wet footprints he'd left behind… each one leading her closer to the truth.
To him.
And to the war only her blood could awaken.
The time had come. The expected visitor arrived at the gates of Blackthorn.
Ash's jaw tensed as the guards announced it. Mira stood nearby, still emotionally tangled, as the scent of unfamiliar wolves swept across the boundary.
Venari.
The rival pack. The ones who hated Blackthorn. The ones whispered to obey blood and power alone.
Three wolves stepped inside the Grand Hall, two in human form—towering, fierce, leather-clad warriors with amber eyes that gleamed like fire. The third, a woman with silver hair and tribal markings, held a carved cane and an ominous air.
"You lied to the council, Alpha Ash," she spoke, voice as cold as a dagger. "You claimed the Blood Moon was balanced. But we sense her now. The girl." Looking to her with grin and suspicion.
Mira's heart skipped. All eyes turned to her.
"She doesn't belong to your line," the woman continued, stepping forward. "Her blood is older. Woken and –"
Ash stepped protectively in front of Mira.
"She is my wife under the bond," he said. "That is all that matters."
The Venari scoffed.
"A storm is coming, Ash of Blackthorn. The Moon will not favor those who lie about her chosen. We'll return at the Solstice."
And like smoke, they were gone.
Mira trembled, but Ash didn't move. Only his fingers clenched tighter at his sides.
"What do they mean?" she whispered. "Ash… what am I?"
He didn't answer. Not yet. Not yet until the time will come, both of them will survive.