Chapter 17

Paul’s POV

Blood.

That was the first thing I saw when I stepped into the tent.

Kael, staggering. A dagger buried deep in his side.

Elder Thorin, standing behind him, his hand still gripping the hilt. Smiling.

Darian, laughing like this was all some kind of twisted game.

And Raven—frozen, eyes wide with horror.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Then it snapped back to life.

Kael fell to one knee, gasping. Raven lunged forward, catching him before he hit the ground. Eira screamed his name, still tied to the chair.

And me?

I moved.

My dagger was out before I even thought about it, aimed straight for Thorin’s throat.

The old bastard dodged—barely—stepping back just in time. His smirk didn’t falter.

“Ah, Paul,” he mused, like I was some lost puppy who had wandered into the wrong room. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

I didn’t answer. I just moved again. Fast.

Thorin blocked, twisting away, but I still got a shallow cut across his arm. He hissed, eyes flashing.

“Sloppy,” he mocked.

“Shut up.”

I went for him again. He ducked, but this time, I was ready. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, hard enough to hear something crack.

He was old, after all.

Thorin stumbled back, coughing. But his damn smirk was still there. “You’re wasting time,” he said, breathless.

I turned just in time to see Darian grabbing Raven’s wrist, yanking her up.

Kael tried to push himself up, but his body refused to obey. Blood dripped from his side.

Raven struggled, but Darian was stronger. Too strong.

Eira shouted something—anger, fear—but I couldn’t make out the words.

I took one step toward them—

And Thorin was there, blocking me.

“You should have stayed in your lane, Paul,” he sighed.

I clenched my jaw. “You should have stayed dead.”

And then I drove my dagger straight at his heart.

Twelve Hours Earlier.

I should’ve known something was off.

The pack council had been tense for weeks, whispering behind closed doors. Elders exchanging looks they thought no one noticed. And now, with Darian moving, those whispers had grown into full-blown secrets.

Secrets I was sick of.

I had been watching Thorin closely. He wasn’t acting like a man who was worried about an attack. He was acting like a man who knew exactly what was coming.

So I followed him.

He was careful, I’ll give him that. But not careful enough.

He left the council hall late that night, moving faster than usual, his hood pulled low.

I kept my distance, tracking him through the castle halls, past the warriors’ barracks, deeper into the east wing—where the old archives were kept.

That’s when I knew he was hiding something.

No one went to the archives at this hour.

I pressed myself into the shadows as he stopped at the door. He glanced around—paranoid, are we?—then slipped inside.

I waited a few beats, then followed.

The room smelled of dust and old parchment. The only light came from a single flickering candle, casting long, shifting shadows.

Thorin stood at the far end, rifling through old records. I stayed low, creeping closer.

Then he spoke.

“I know you’re there, Paul.”

I stopped.

He didn’t turn. Just kept going through the scrolls like I was some annoying insect buzzing around his ear.

“You’ve always been nosy,” he continued. “Loyal, yes, but nosy.”

I didn’t move.

Thorin sighed, finally turning. His expression was… calm. Too calm. “If you were hoping to find something incriminating, I’m afraid you’re too late.”

I met his gaze. “Then you won’t mind me looking around.”

He smiled. “Go ahead.”

That alone confirmed he was guilty as hell.

I stepped past him, running my fingers along the dusty shelves. The books here were old, some half-crumbling. Most contained histories of our pack, treaties, bloodlines—

Bloodlines.

I pulled a scroll from the shelf. It was labeled Moon’s Daughter & The Storm’s Heir.

I glanced at Thorin. He just watched, amused.

I unrolled it.

The words inside made my stomach turn.

The Moon’s Daughter must be given in sacrifice to awaken the power within the Storm’s Heir. Her blood, spilled upon the sacred altar, shall break the chains that bind the past…

I swallowed hard.

Thorin tilted his head. “Interesting read, isn’t it?”

I tightened my grip on the parchment. “What the hell is this?”

“The truth.” His voice was casual. “The prophecy in its entirety. Not the version your dear Alpha likes to believe in.”

I clenched my jaw. “You’ve been working with Darian.”

Thorin laughed. “Of course I have.”

Bastard didn’t even try to deny it.

“You think Kael’s fit to lead?” he scoffed. “He’s weak. Emotional. The prophecy demands strength, and your precious Alpha doesn’t have it.”

I took a step forward. “And you think Darian does?”

Thorin’s smile widened. “Oh, Paul.” His voice was almost pitying. “Darian isn’t the real player here.”

I frowned. “What?”

He leaned in slightly. “You’re focusing on the wrong enemy.”

A cold chill crept down my spine. “Then who is the enemy?”

His smirk deepened.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

That was when I should have killed him.

I didn’t.

I let him walk out of that room, thinking I had time.

I was wrong.

Back to the Present.

Thorin twisted, my dagger missing his heart by inches. He grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, but I shoved my elbow into his ribs again.

He grunted, stumbling.

Darian still had Raven. Kael was still bleeding out.

I didn’t have time for this.

So I did something reckless.

I let Thorin think he had control. Let him push me back, let him think he was winning—

Then I slammed my knee into his stomach and flipped him onto his back.

His head cracked against the floor.

His smirk was gone.

I pressed my blade to his throat.

“Who’s the real enemy?” I demanded.

Thorin laughed. Even with a knife at his throat. Even with blood trickling from his mouth.

“Oh, Paul,” he rasped. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

I pressed harder. “Try me.”

His crimson-stained teeth gleamed. “It’s not Darian you should be afraid of.”

The tent shook suddenly.

A low, bone-chilling howl echoed through the camp.

Something wrong. Something unnatural.

Darian’s grin faltered.

Raven stiffened.

Even Thorin… looked pleased.

And that’s when I realized— Darian wasn’t the biggest threat here.

Something else was coming.

And we weren’t ready for it.

The howl sent a chill down my spine.

It wasn’t just a wolf’s cry. It was something twisted. Wrong.

Even Darian—who was always so damn smug—had gone rigid.

The whole camp fell silent.

No war drums. No footsteps. Just… waiting.

Then—

A second howl. Louder. Closer.

And this time, it was followed by the scent of death.

I didn’t hesitate. I pressed my dagger deeper against Thorin’s throat.

“What the hell is that?” I growled.

Thorin laughed. Blood dribbled from his lips, but he still looked satisfied.

“You’re about to find out.”

Darian snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in. He shoved Raven toward one of his men, stepping toward the tent’s entrance.

His voice was calm, but there was something under it. Something that almost sounded like… fear.

“Find out where that’s coming from.”

His warriors hesitated.

“NOW!” Darian barked.

They ran.

Raven twisted, trying to break free, but the guard holding her was strong. Too strong.

Kael groaned, still clutching his bleeding side.

I had to act fast.

I knocked Thorin out cold. No time to kill him now. I’d deal with that later.

Instead, I turned and slammed my fist into the face of the guard holding Raven.

He staggered. Not enough.

I punched him again.

This time, he let go.

Raven didn’t waste a second. She grabbed a fallen blade and spun toward Darian.

But Darian was already gone.

He had stepped out of the tent, heading toward whatever the hell was out there.

I yanked Eira’s bindings loose. “Can you stand?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.” But I could tell she was lying.

Kael groaned again.

Raven was already at his side, pressing down on the wound in his ribs.

“You idiot,” she hissed. “Why do you always have to—”

Kael grunted, half-smirking despite the pain. “You’re… welcome.”

I rolled my eyes. “You two can flirt later. We need to MOVE.”

Another howl.

This time, I felt it in my bones.

Kael’s face went pale. “That’s… not a normal wolf.”

“No shit,” I muttered.

We didn’t have time to fight whatever that thing was.

“Raven, help him up,” I ordered.

She nodded, looping Kael’s arm over her shoulders. He groaned but didn’t argue.

I turned to Eira. “We need to get out of here.”

She swallowed hard. “Paul… I think we’re trapped.”

And that’s when I noticed it.

The shadows outside the tent.

Moving.

I grabbed my sword, heart hammering.

One of Darian’s men—one of the scouts—screamed in the distance.

Then silence.

Dread curled in my gut.

Eira was right.

We were trapped in this camp.

And something was hunting us.