Chapter 11
The howl cut sharper than any blade.
“Serena.” Her name ripped from my throat before I could stop it. The pack house wasn’t close, but the scent hit the air—sharp, metallic, laced with terror. My sister was bleeding.
Damien’s head snapped toward the sound, rage flooding his golden eyes. The Rogue King snarled low, silver gaze narrowing. For a heartbeat they seemed united, predators alert to the same prey. Then both remembered me, standing between them.
“Stay here,” Damien ordered, Alpha command crackling in his voice.
I staggered under the weight of it—but the Severance held. His command no longer bound me. “No.”
The Rogue King’s lips curved into a feral smile. “Ah, she resists you now. Delicious.” He turned his attention back toward the howl. “Your Luna screams, Blackwood. Perhaps she finally realized her crown comes with teeth.”
Damien lunged at him again, but I shoved between them, fury lashing through me. “Enough! My sister’s bleeding while you both measure your egos. If either of you truly cared, you’d already be running to her!”
For a breath, silence. Then Damien vanished into the trees, a streak of gold and shadow.
The Rogue King lingered, eyes on me. “You run after them, and you’ll see what kind of Alpha your sister truly chose. Careful, girl—truth cuts deeper than claws.”
His words crawled down my spine, but I shoved them aside and sprinted into the forest.
The scent trail was chaos—blood, fear, and the acrid tang of wolfsbane. My wolf snarled, claws itching to tear apart whatever dared touch Serena.
I burst into a clearing.
And froze.
Serena knelt in the snow, dress torn, blood soaking the pale fabric at her side. Her hair was tangled, her eyes wide and glassy. Beside her lay a shattered vial, shards glinting under the moon. The stench of wolfsbane burned my nostrils.
Damien crouched over her, hands red, pressing against her wound. His face—usually carved in stone—was raw with panic.
“You’ll live,” he rasped. “You will live.”
Serena’s lips trembled. “It wasn’t rogues. It was—” She choked, eyes flicking to me. “Clara… run.”
The word sliced me open. “What?”
But before she could speak again, her body convulsed, eyes rolling back.
Damien roared, the sound tearing through the forest, rattling birds from the trees. Warriors spilled into the clearing, circling, waiting for his command.
The Rogue King stepped from the shadows, slow clap echoing like mockery. “Ah, the Luna bleeds. How tragic.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “But perhaps not surprising.”
Damien bared his teeth. “Shut your mouth.”
The King’s gaze cut to me. “Ask yourself, Clara—why would your sister tell you to run? What truth was she afraid you’d hear?”
My heart stuttered. I stared at Serena’s limp form, at the wolfsbane shards glistening in the snow.
And in that moment, a truth I’d never dared whisper took root in my gut:
Maybe my sister wasn’t just victim.
Maybe she was player.
And maybe… she was bleeding because she had been caught.
