Grey's POV
The storm had broken at dawn, but inside me, it still raged.
I stood at the fortress balcony, silver eyes scanning the valley below. The earth reeked of wet soil and blood, the scent of rogues who had dragged her here still clinging to the stone walls. My rogues—my army—moved restlessly among the training pits, snapping jaws, sharpening blades, their hunger rising with the new day. They could feel it. War was coming.
And so could I.
But even with the promise of blood in the air, my mind was not where it should be. It kept circling back to her. The girl. The one fate had tied me to against my will.
Her eyes had haunted me all night. Wide with fear, blazing with defiance. Too much like hers. My Luna. The one who was murdered. The one the Moon Goddess had the audacity to bind inside that girl's soul like a cruel joke.
I gripped the railing until the stone cracked beneath my claws.
"King Grey."
The voice was low, rasping. I turned to see Kaine, one of my generals, approach. Scarred from jaw to neck, half his face burned from a battle he should have died in. He had been loyal to me once—or at least, loyal to the bloodshed I offered him.
Behind him trailed Veyra, a witch whose eyes gleamed red like fresh blood. She was dangerous, not because of her strength, but because she never spoke without a hidden blade of truth. I tolerated her only because her visions had proven useful before.
"What is it?" I snapped.
Kaine bowed his head slightly. "Some of the rogues whisper. They question why you keep the girl alive. They say she weakens you."
I bared my teeth. "And what do you say?"
He held my gaze too long. Bold. Dangerous. "I say a king cannot afford weakness. If she is not your mate, if she is nothing but a vessel for a dead Luna's spirit… then perhaps she is better off dead."
My wolf surged, snarling, demanding blood. I stepped forward in a blur, my claws pressed to his throat before he could even flinch. His pulse hammered beneath my hand, but his eyes never lowered.
"You forget your place, Kaine," I growled, my voice low and lethal. "I keep her alive because she is mine to command. Not yours to question."
Veyra's lips curved into a thin smile, watching like a vulture waiting for carrion. "Careful, Grey," she purred. "Kill him now, and you'll lose more than a general. The others will think you silence those who speak truth."
I turned my glare on her. "And what truth do you think he speaks?"
Her gaze flicked toward the inner halls where the girl slept—or tried to. "The truth is, the spirit inside her will not stay buried. It will rise. And when it does, you will have to choose which wolf you are—the king who denies fate, or the mate who obeys it."
My jaw clenched. I shoved Kaine back, releasing him. He stumbled, coughing, but didn't dare speak again.
"Train the rogues harder," I ordered coldly. "Double the patrols. If Crescent Moon makes a move, I want to smell it before they cross the border."
They bowed and left, though Kaine's eyes lingered too long. I made a note to watch him. Traitors never struck openly. They bled you from within first.
Later, in the war hall, maps sprawled across the table, my commanders gathered. Harlen, my oldest advisor, stood at my right. His hair was white, his body bent with age, but his mind was sharp as any blade. Beside him was Veyra again, and two other rogues: Brask, a brute who thought muscle solved everything, and Dagon, silent and watchful, with eyes that missed nothing.
"We need to strike before Xander does," Brask snarled, slamming his fist against the wood. "Send our armies into Crescent Moon, burn their villages, tear their warriors apart before they even know what hit them."
"And bleed half our numbers on his walls?" Harlen countered, voice calm but edged. "No. Xander is calculating. He'll be waiting for exactly that."
"Then lure him out," Dagon said quietly, his voice smooth as oil. "Take what he values most. Force his hand."
The others turned to him. His eyes slid toward me, then toward the chambers where she was kept.
My wolf bristled instantly.
"No," I said flatly.
Brask sneered. "Why not? The girl is already yours. Why not use her to break him?"
"Because she is not a bargaining chip." My claws sank into the map, ripping it. "She is mine. That is reason enough."
Silence fell, thick and sharp. They all heard the edge in my voice, the danger that came with it. But I also saw the doubt flicker in their eyes. Doubt was a poison, and it was spreading.