SERA'S POV
The forest gets darker with every step I take toward Nightfang territory.
Not just because the sun is setting. There's something else here—something alive in the shadows between the trees. Magic, maybe. Or just the weight of knowing I'm walking into the den of the most dangerous Alpha in the Shadow Territories with a weapon that could get me killed if anyone finds it.
The silver dagger presses against my ankle inside my boot. Wolfsbane-coated. Blessed with dark magic. Heavy enough to remind me with every step exactly why I'm here.
Kill Alpha Kael Nightfang before the Blood Moon in twenty-nine days, or thousands will die.
I've rehearsed my cover story so many times the lies taste like truth now. I'm Sera—no last name because lone wolves don't have pack names. I'm twenty-three. My pack was destroyed by rogues when I was young. I've been wandering ever since, looking for somewhere safe to belong.
Simple. Believable. The kind of tragic story that happens often enough in the Shadow Territories that no one will question it too deeply.
At least, that's the plan.
I adjust the worn pack on my shoulders—carefully staged to look like everything I own in the world. A few changes of clothes. A water skin. Some dried meat. Nothing that screams "trained assassin on a murder mission."
The real weapons are hidden better. A garrote wire sewn into my jacket lining. Poison capsules disguised as buttons. Three throwing knives tucked into sheaths I had custom-made to avoid detection.
And the dagger. Always the dagger.
A branch snaps behind me.
I spin, hand already moving toward the knife at my hip, every muscle coiled to strike—
Nothing. Just wind through the trees.
Get it together, Sera. You're supposed to be a scared lone wolf, not a paranoid assassin.
I force my shoulders to relax and keep walking. But my heart won't stop hammering. Because the forest isn't empty. I can feel eyes watching me. Tracking me.
Nightfang Pack guards, probably. Testing to see if I'm a threat.
Good. Let them watch. Let them see exactly what I want them to see—a lost wolf, desperate and harmless.
The trees finally thin, and I stop at the edge of a clearing. This is it. The border between neutral territory and Nightfang Pack lands. Cross this line, and I'm in enemy territory with no way out except through.
I take a breath and step forward.
Instantly, two massive wolves materialize from the shadows like they were made of smoke. They're huge—bigger than any wolf I've seen outside the Crimson Order's war division. Their eyes glow amber in the fading light, and when they growl, I feel it in my bones.
"State your business," the larger one demands. His voice is more animal than human, like his wolf is too close to the surface.
I drop to one knee immediately, head bowed. Submissive. Respectful. Everything a lone wolf should be when facing pack guards.
"I seek sanctuary," I say, making my voice small and tired. Not hard—I've been walking for two days straight to make my arrival time match the cover story. "I have nowhere else to go."
The guards circle me slowly. I can feel them studying every detail—my worn clothes, my thin frame, the way my hands shake just slightly. All of it carefully calculated.
"You're on Nightfang territory," the second guard says. He's slightly smaller but somehow more dangerous. His eyes are too intelligent. Too aware. "Alpha Kael doesn't grant sanctuary to just anyone. What makes you think he'll accept you?"
"I don't," I admit, which is true enough. "But I have to try. The rogues who destroyed my pack are hunting survivors. If I don't find protection soon..." I let my voice break. Let them hear the fear I don't have to fake because even though my pack story is a lie, the danger is real.
Just not from rogues.
The guards exchange a look—the kind of silent communication that pack wolves share through their mental link. I don't have that. The Crimson Order made sure my wolf stayed dormant, isolated, unable to connect to pack bonds that might compromise my missions.
It's lonely. But loneliness is safer than loyalty when you're a weapon.
"Wait here," the larger guard finally says. Then his eyes glaze slightly—the telltale sign of a mindlink conversation happening inside his head.
My pulse spikes. This is it. The moment where everything either works or falls apart. If Kael suspects I'm an assassin, I'll be dead before I can reach for my blade. If he believes the cover story, I'll be inside his territory. Inside his home.
Inside striking distance.
The guard's eyes clear. He looks at me with something that might be pity.
"He'll see you," he says. "Follow us."
Relief floods through me, but I'm careful not to show it. I stand slowly, brushing dirt from my knees, and fall into step behind them.
We walk in silence through the forest. Every hundred yards or so, I spot other wolves watching from the shadows. Sentries. Nightfang Pack is as heavily guarded as the intelligence reports said. Maybe more.
Good, I think. That means Kael has enemies. That means he's not invincible.
That means I can kill him.
The thought should bring comfort. Instead, it sits heavy in my stomach like a stone.
"Stay close," the smaller guard warns, glancing back at me. "The pack has been on edge lately. If you wander off the path, they might mistake you for a threat."
"Why are they on edge?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
The guard's expression darkens. "That's pack business. Not yours. Yet."
Yet. Like I might become part of this pack. Like I might stay long enough to belong.
I won't. I can't. In twenty-nine days, I'll either complete my mission or die trying. There's no third option.
No belonging option.
The trees finally open up, and I stop breathing.
The Nightfang Pack mansion rises from the forest like something from a dark fairy tale. It's massive—stone and steel and windows that catch the dying light like eyes. Guard towers. High walls. Security everywhere.
This is a fortress, not a home.
And I'm walking straight into it.
"Impressive, isn't it?" the larger guard says, and I realize I've been staring. "Alpha Kael built most of it himself after... well. After he became Alpha."
There's a story there. Something painful in the way the guard's voice changes. But I don't ask. Can't ask. Because the more I know about Kael as a person, the harder this mission becomes.
Morgana's voice echoes in my head: "Don't humanize your targets, Sera. Monsters look like people too."
Right. Kael Nightfang is a monster. The prophecy says so. The Oracle confirmed it. He's a threat that needs to be eliminated.
So why does his home look so... sad?
We reach the main entrance. More guards. More eyes tracking my every movement. I keep my head down, my shoulders curved inward, playing the part.
The smaller guard pushes open the heavy wooden doors. "Wait here while we announce you."
Then they're gone, and I'm alone in an entrance hall that's bigger than the entire dormitory wing at the Crimson Sanctum.
My fingers twitch toward my boot. Toward the dagger. Just to check it's still there. Still ready.
Twenty-nine days, I remind myself. Get close. Learn his patterns. Find his weakness. Strike when he's vulnerable.
Simple. Clean. Professional.
A door opens somewhere above me. Footsteps on stairs—measured, confident, powerful.
My heart starts to race.
This is it. I'm about to meet the monster I was born to kill.
I rehearse the cover story one more time in my head. I'm Sera. Lone wolf. Orphaned young. Just looking for a safe place to—
"He's ready for you," the smaller guard says, appearing at my elbow so silently I almost jump. "This way."
We climb the stairs. Walk down a long hallway lined with portraits of wolves I don't recognize. Past rooms I'll need to memorize later for escape routes. Through a final set of doors that open into—
An office. Massive desk. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the forest. And behind the desk...
My breath catches.
Because the monster from the files—the three-hundred-year-old Alpha who's supposed to be ancient and scarred and terrifying—looks young. Thirty, maybe. Dark hair. Sharp features. And eyes like molten gold that lock onto me the second I enter.
Everything in my carefully constructed plan screams at me to look away. To submit. To remember I'm supposed to be a scared lone wolf.
But I can't stop staring.
Because Kael Nightfang isn't a monster.
He's beautiful.
And I am in so much trouble.