(Luke POV)
The fire won't die.
No matter how much water we throw on it, no matter how many wolves work through the night hauling rubble and bodies out of the ruins, Blackstone Keep keeps burning—embers glowing like a wound that refuses to close.
My home.
My fucking home.
I stand in the courtyard, hands clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms, staring at the destruction Nightblade left behind. Towers collapsed. Banners reduced to ash. Stone split clean through like something clawed the mountain itself apart.
And Mari Ventor's voice keeps replaying in my head.
You murdered my family.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Bullshit.
Has to be.
Ronan Vrenatta didn't murder anyone. He's ruthless, yes. Dangerous, yes. But a traitor? A secret killer hiding behind alliances?
No.
Except…
I open my eyes again.
The silence is worse than the battle was. No howls. No explosions. Just the low crackle of fire and the soft sounds of injured pack members being tended to.
Soren approaches quietly, his face grim. "We've accounted for most of them," he says. "Some didn't make it."
My jaw tightens. "How many?"
He hesitates.
That's answer enough.
Anger surges through me so violently I almost shift on the spot.
"She planned this," I growl. "Every second of it."
Soren nods. "Nightblade waited for Shadowfang to engage us fully. They hit fast. Clean. Then vanished."
I laugh once—sharp, humorless. "Clean? Look around."
"You know what I mean," he says. "This wasn't chaos. It was surgical."
I turn away from the burning keep, heart pounding.
Mari.
Her eyes weren't wild. They weren't panicked.
They were calm.
Convicted.
That's what fucks with me the most.
"She looked at me like she believed every word she said," I mutter.
Soren's brows knit. "What did she say?"
I hesitate.
Then, "She accused us of murdering her family."
The air shifts.
Soren goes very still.
"That's… not a small accusation," he says carefully.
"No shit."
"She specifically said you?"
"No. My bloodline." I run a hand through my hair. "My father."
Soren exhales slowly. "Luke…"
"She said it like it was fact," I snap. "Like it was something carved into her bones."
We stand there in the ruins of my life while doubt worms its way under my skin.
I hate it.
I hate her for planting it.
I hate myself for wondering.
I find my father near the inner hall, overseeing repairs like the destruction didn't rip something out of him too. Ronan Vrenatta stands tall, blood still staining his sleeves, his presence a solid anchor in the chaos.
"Father," I say tightly.
He looks at me. "We'll rebuild."
"That's not what I asked."
His gaze sharpens. "Then ask what you mean."
I take a breath. "Did you ever kill a Nightblade Alpha?"
The words hang between us like a blade.
For a heartbeat, I swear the fire burns louder.
Ronan's expression doesn't change. Not shock. Not guilt.
Just… steel.
"Where did you hear that?" he asks.
From the girl who just burned my home to the ground.
From the enemy who looked me in the eye and told me my blood was rotten.
"I need to know," I say. "Now."
Ronan studies me for a long moment. Then he says, "I have killed enemies in war."
"That's not what I asked."
His jaw tightens.
"No," he says finally. "I did not murder a Nightblade Alpha in cold blood."
Relief slams through me so hard my knees almost give.
"But," he continues, voice lowering, "peace talks were never clean in those days. There were secrets. Betrayals. Decisions made for survival."
My stomach drops.
"Did someone die?" I press.
Ronan's eyes harden. "Enough."
That's it.
That's the moment something fractures.
Not because I believe Mari.
But because my father didn't deny everything.
I walk away before I say something I can't take back.
Nightblade didn't just destroy my home.
They planted doubt.
And Mari Ventor wielded it like a weapon.
The thought of her makes my chest burn.
I see her standing in the firelight—unflinching, unrepentant, lethal.
Enemy.
I hate her.
I hate her for what she did.
I hate her for what she said.
I hate her most of all because some traitorous part of me still remembers the way her presence felt like a storm I wanted to walk into.
Never again.
I swear it to the ashes beneath my feet.
Mari Ventor is no longer just my enemy.
She is my war.
And I will burn her world down the same way she burned mine—slow, deliberate, and without mercy.
Because whatever secrets haunt the past…
The future belongs to the wolves who survive.
And I plan to survive her.