The Silverclaw seal cracked under my fingernail, crumbling into fine grey grit. The letter reeked of wet dog and cheap ozone—the stench of a foreign pack marking my territory even through the parchment.
The wolf within reared up, claws scraping the underside of my consciousness.
"Bold. Even for those bastards."
Damian appeared in the doorway soundlessly, like a shadow. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His new doublet looked far too clean for the filth we'd been wading through for the past week.
"Reading aloud? Or should I guess by the bulging veins in your neck?"
I slammed the parchment onto the table. The edges of the paper curled, revealing a bold, sprawling handwriting.
"They know about the Omega. They write of a 'fragile acquisition' that might not survive the spring."
Damian pushed off the doorframe smoothly and approached the table. He scanned the lines, and the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.
"'Fragile acquisition.' Poetically put. The Silverclaws were always famous for their... eloquence right before slitting a throat."
"They're looking for a weak spot."
"And they found one. You created it yourself, Cale. Bringing her here, marking her, and then tucking her away in corners... It's the equivalent of hoisting a white flag and hoping no one shoots at it."
I clenched my fist, feeling the wood of the table groan piteously.
"Alina is my property."
"Property that reeks of herbs and soil through the entire castle," Damian leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "That scent is driving your wolf mad, Cale. Don't deny it. Everyone can sense it. And the Silverclaws smelled blood, too."
The heavy thud of a cane against the stone floor forced Damian to straighten up. My father entered the study. Edric looked as if his very presence sucked the air out of the room. The heavy cloak on his shoulders seemed a weight he bore with difficulty, yet his gaze remained steely.
"Still dallying with that girl?"
My father didn't look at me. His eyes were pinned to the letter on the table.
"War is at our doorstep, Edric. A letter from Silverclaw."
"I see the crest," he struck his cane against the floor, the sound echoing in the rafters. "I warned you. The Moon's blunder should never have crossed the threshold of this house. She is an anchor dragging you to the bottom. Get rid of her. Now."
"I decide who stays in my pack."
"In your pack?" Edric finally looked at me, and in his eyes, I saw cold disappointment. "A pack is made of fangs and claws. She is a burden. The Silverclaws are laughing at you. They see an Alpha salivating over a weak Omega instead of sharpening his swords. Eliminate this link before it snaps."
Damian shifted his gaze from me to my father, sparks of interest dancing in his eyes.
"Why eliminate something that can be used?"
Father frowned, his brows knitting together.
"Speak plainly, Beta."
"If they want her so badly," Damian tapped a finger on the table, "why not give them the chance? We provide a false trail. Spread a rumor that the Alpha is hiding his precious mate."
"The ambush by the creek failed," I recalled the taste of defeat, a bitterness that still burned my throat. "They aren't idiots."
"Then act on a larger scale," Damian smiled, a thin, fleeting expression. "Tomorrow at dawn, a trade caravan leaves for the south. The southern border is volatile. If Alina is in one of the wagons under 'heavy' guard..."
"You want to parade her?" I felt the hackles on my neck rise. "Like a piece of meat?"
"She is meat in this game, Cale. Either you use her, or they use you."
Edric nodded, his face hardening into a mask of stone.
"A good plan. A survival test. If she returns, it means the Moon truly saw something in her. If not... the problem solves itself."
"I didn't give my consent," my voice broke into a growl.
"You have no choice, son," my father stepped toward me, bringing the scent of old leather and decay. "You are an Alpha. Your task is to preserve the pack, not a bedwarmer. Or are you afraid you won't be able to protect her?"
"I fear nothing."
"Then give the order. Now."
I looked at the map spread across the table. The southern passes. Dense forests. The perfect place for an ambush. My wolf howled, demanding I lock Alina in the deepest tower, mask her scent with my own, and tear the throat out of anyone who even looked her way. But the mind of an Alpha dictated otherwise.
"The caravan leaves at dawn. Alina goes with them."
"Wise," Damian straightened up. "I'll see to the guards. We'll make it look as though you're sending her to safety. They'll take the bait."
"Reinforce the guard. For real," I looked him dead in the eye. "If anything happens to her that wasn't part of the plan..."
"Of course, Cale. For appearances," he smiled that slippery smile again.
Father turned in silence and left, his cane beating out a rhythm to my mounting rage. Damian followed him, leaving me alone.
Through the link, I felt a prick. The thin thread connecting me to her snapped taut. Fear. She could feel my tension from across the castle. Her fear smelled of wild mint and damp earth, filling my lungs and making it hard to breathe.
Weakness. Pure, concentrated weakness.
I swept everything off the table. The maps, the inkwell, that cursed letter. The clatter of them falling quieted the beast slightly, but the ache in my fangs remained. This scent had permeated everything. Every thought. Every decision.
I walked out of the study. My footsteps echoed loudly in the empty corridors, bouncing off the cold stone. The torches on the walls flickered as I passed.
The door to her chambers was not locked. I kicked it open.
Alina flinched, dropping a piece of cloth. She was standing by the window, pale in that grey dress of hers that made her look like a ghost. In the dim light, her skin appeared almost translucent.
"Cale? Has something happened?"
Her voice trembled. She took a step back, her lower back pressing against the windowsill.
I didn't answer. I simply bore down on her, filling the entire space of the small, stifling room. The smell of smoke and heated metal rolling off me suppressed her herbal aroma, drowning it out.
"You're leaving. Tomorrow. At dawn."
I stopped a hair's breadth from her. She was so small. So useless.
"Where? Why? You promised that I—"
"I promised you nothing," I cut her off, closing the distance to the absolute minimum. "You will go with the caravan to the south. К the border."
"But it's... it's dangerous there. Cale, please."
"Please?" I let out a harsh laugh, feeling fury boil within me. "Did you think you'd sit here warming yourself by the hearth while my men die because you are my 'mate'?"
I lunged and grabbed her forearm. My fingers clamped around the thin bone; I yanked her toward me, forcing her flush against my armor.
"Does it hurt?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath hitching.
"Let go..."
"Look at me."
I forced my will through the link, asserting my dominance. On her neck, beneath the fabric of her dress, the mark flared with a baleful crimson light. Alina shrieked, her body going limp; if not for my grip, she would have collapsed.
"This mark isn't an ornament, Alina. It is your leash. Where I tell you to go, you go."
The mark pulsed, sending waves of searing pain through her body. I felt that pain as if it were my own, but it only served to stoke the wolf.
"I... I can't... I'm not a warrior."
"You are the lure. And you will play that role better than anyone."
I shoved her away. She hit the windowsill, clutching her neck where the skin burned. Her eyes were brimming with terror, tears on the verge of spilling, but she held them back. It irritated me even more.
"Be ready by the first light of day. If you keep the caravan waiting..."
"I understand."
"Good."
I turned and walked out without looking back. The wolf within clawed at my ribs, demanding I return, take her, and hide her from the world. But I only quickened my pace. Tomorrow, the Silverclaws would come for her. And when they did, I would be waiting with a drawn sword. If she didn't survive... then so be it.
The weak have no place in this war. Even if they smell like the sweetest intoxicant.