Chapter 74: Ashes in the Blood

The estate felt wrong that night. Not because of what had happened with the hybrid boy dying in Mara’s care, not even because the Hollow Creed was out there in the fog waiting to pounce—but because of the silence that followed.

It wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence of something circling, studying, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The hallways creaked like old bones. The fireplaces burned low, their glow too weak to chase away the shadows. And everyone was on edge.

Ethan set up in the war room with three monitors, tapping away at his laptop like a man possessed. Elena sat on the table beside him, twirling a blade between her fingers. Callum leaned against the wall, bandages still visible under his shirt. Rhea lingered near the door, her arms crossed tightly, like she wasn’t sure if she belonged in the conversation or not.

And me? I sat with my coffee growing cold in my hands, staring at the paper Mara had shown us—the one with the figure drawn in ink, the words scrawled beneath it like a threat: She has awakened. Now she must choose.

\---

“They’re organized,” Callum said at last, breaking the heavy quiet. His voice was gravel, sharp from both exhaustion and anger. “The Creed isn’t some ragtag band of hunters anymore. These people fight like soldiers. And worse, they believe in something. You can’t negotiate with that.”

Elena scoffed. “I’ve been saying that for years. But no—everyone tells me I’m paranoid, that I just like sharpening knives for fun. Well, guess what? The knife girl was right.”

Ethan glanced up from his screen. “You don’t get a medal for that, you know.”

“Then I’ll make one,” Elena shot back. “It’ll say Congratulations, Elena, you were right again. P.S. Ethan owes you donuts.”

“Not happening,” Ethan muttered, but there was a flicker of a smile before his face fell serious again. “The problem isn’t just that they’re organized. It’s that they knew exactly where to hit us. That hybrid who died—he wasn’t just collateral. He was a message. A test. They wanted us to see what they could do.”

Rhea shifted, her voice quiet but steady. “Then why didn’t they kill more?”

Everyone looked at her.

She didn’t flinch. “If they got inside the perimeter, if they really wanted to, they could’ve taken out ten of us before we even knew they were there. But they didn’t. They went for one. They left him in the hall. And they wanted you to find him, Roxanne. That wasn’t just a test. It was a… reminder.”

Aidan, who had been pacing silently, finally stopped and looked at her. “A reminder of what?”

Rhea’s gaze shifted to me. “That you’re the reason this war is happening.”

The room went still.

My hands tightened around the mug. “You don’t think I know that already?”

Rhea shook her head. “I don’t think you realize how much it matters to them. They don’t see you as a mistake. They see you as the point. The center of all of it. That’s why they’re circling. They’re not just waiting for a chance to strike. They’re waiting for you to choose.”

\---

The silence that followed pressed against my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

Finally, Elena broke it. “Okay. I hate to be the one to say it, but… she’s right. Every single time shit hits the fan, it’s because someone out there is obsessed with Roxanne’s bloodline, Roxanne’s power, Roxanne’s destiny. And yeah, I know you didn’t ask for this, but the fact is—they’re not stopping until they get you.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. “Really helpful pep talk.”

“Not a pep talk. Reality check.” Elena crossed her arms. “The Creed doesn’t want this estate. They don’t want the hybrids. They don’t even want Aidan’s pack. They want you.”

“And what do you want me to do, Elena?” I snapped. “Walk out there and hand myself over?”

Her jaw tightened. “If it comes to that—”

Aidan’s voice cut sharp. “Stop.”

Everyone turned to him.

“No one’s handing her over,” he said firmly. “Not now. Not ever. They want Roxanne, they go through me first.”

I glanced at him, my chest twisting.

Elena muttered something under her breath but didn’t push.

For once.

\---

Ethan cleared his throat. “Okay. Before this turns into a shouting match slash romantic declaration, maybe we should focus on the fact that the Creed isn’t gone. They’re waiting outside. And judging by their formation, they’re not leaving anytime soon.”

“Can you track them?” I asked.

Ethan grimaced. “Yes and no. They’re using jammers. Every time I get a fix, they move and I lose them again. Whoever’s leading them isn’t stupid.”

“That’s the problem,” Callum said. “They’re too smart. Hunters usually make mistakes—get sloppy, let rage get the better of them. But these people? They’re patient. They’re disciplined. And if they’re waiting, it’s for something specific.”

“What?” Rhea asked.

No one had an answer.

\---

We were still debating strategy an hour later when Mara came in quietly, holding a bundle of papers.

“I found something,” she said, her voice low.

We all turned.

She set the papers on the table. Old, yellowed documents. Some handwritten, some typed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Creed records,” Mara replied. “Not recent. Old. From when they first split from the councils. These people weren’t always hunters. They were archivists. Keepers of stories. Protectors of secrets no one else wanted to guard.”

“Until?” Elena prompted.

“Until they found one they couldn’t control,” Mara said. “A prophecy. A bloodline.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to me.

Of course.

“Let me guess,” I muttered. “Mine.”

Mara didn’t answer, but her silence was louder than anything she could’ve said.

\---

Aidan spoke first. “What did it say?”

Mara hesitated, then read aloud. “‘When the moon burns red and the wolves turn silent, one born of blood and fire will rise. Her name will carry ash, her voice will command both beast and shadow, and her choice will end or begin the age of wolves.’”

I stared at her.

Elena blinked. “Wow. Super casual prophecy. Nothing dramatic about that at all.”

Ethan rubbed his forehead. “That’s not just a prophecy. That’s a warning.”

“No,” Rhea said softly. “It’s a promise.”

Her eyes met mine, calm and steady.

“You’re the Harbinger, Roxanne. And the Creed isn’t here to kill you. They’re here to see if you’ll fulfill it.”

\---

The air in the room thickened.

Everyone spoke at once—Aidan trying to calm things, Elena throwing sarcastic barbs, Ethan asking about details in the texts, Callum cursing under his breath.

But I just sat there, staring at the prophecy.

Her choice will end or begin the age of wolves.

Choice.

That was the word that scared me.

Because sooner or later, I was going to have to make one.

And everyone in this room—everyone in this world—would pay for it.

The estate didn’t sleep that night.

Every hallway was alive with movement—guards shifting posts, weapons clinking against belts, whispers carrying through the walls. Even the hybrids who had once moved like shadows now lingered in corners, eyes glowing faintly, restless.

I couldn’t sit still. I walked the corridors, checking rooms I didn’t need to check, nodding at faces that wouldn’t meet my eyes. They all looked at me differently now—like the prophecy Mara had read had changed me overnight. Like I wasn’t Roxanne anymore. Like I was something else.

I hated it.

When I passed the library, I found Elena sprawled across the couch with her boots on the armrest and her crossbow on her lap. Ethan sat opposite her, surrounded by three open laptops, a bowl of pretzels, and two energy drink cans stacked like trophies.

“You two ever sleep?” I asked.

Elena sat up a little. “Sleep is for people who aren’t waiting for an army of Creed psychos to storm their gates.”

Ethan didn’t look up from his screen. “Also, she snores.”

“I do not!” Elena shot back.

He smirked. “Like a chainsaw in a hurricane.”

“Say that again and I’ll shoot an arrow into your keyboard.”

“Blasphemy,” Ethan gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, tech boy.”

I raised a hand. “Okay, before this turns into murder, can we focus?”

Ethan leaned back, rubbing his eyes. “Fine. I’ve been scanning the perimeter. The Creed isn’t moving, not really. They’re just… there. A perfect circle around us, not close enough to attack, not far enough to ignore. It’s psychological warfare.”

“They’re waiting for something,” I said.

“Yeah,” Elena muttered, grabbing her crossbow again. “Waiting for you.”

I didn’t argue. Because she was right.

\---

By morning, the fog had thickened so much the world outside looked like smoke. We gathered in the war room again—Aidan, Callum, Echo, Mara, Elena, Ethan, Rhea, and me. Everyone looked worn. Everyone looked ready to snap.

“We can’t sit here forever,” Callum said, slamming his palm against the table. “They’ll bleed us dry. No supply runs, no reinforcements. They’ll starve us out.”

“So what do you suggest?” Aidan asked.

“We strike first.”

“That’s suicide,” Elena said flatly. “Marching into fog against soldiers who’ve trained their whole lives to hunt wolves? Pass.”

Callum glared. “Then you’d rather sit and wait until they pick us off?”

“They already picked one off,” Elena shot back. “And if you rush in like an idiot, you’ll be next.”

“Enough,” Aidan snapped. His voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Fighting each other is exactly what they want.”

Echo, who had been quiet, finally spoke. “She’s coming.”

Everyone turned.

“Who?” I asked.

Echo’s eyes glowed faintly. “The one they follow. The sister. I can feel her moving closer.”

Mara stiffened. “If she comes here herself, it means she wants a confrontation. Not a war. A meeting.”

“Or a spectacle,” Ethan muttered. “Leaders love their drama.”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Oh great. A showdown. What’s next, a duel at dawn?”

Nobody laughed.

\---

Later that afternoon, I found Aidan out in the training yard, hacking at a practice dummy with his blade. Each strike was precise, brutal, his jaw tight with frustration.

“You’re going to break it,” I said softly.

“Better the dummy than someone else.”

I stepped closer. “You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, lowering the blade. “They want you. They’ll keep coming until they have you. And I can’t shake the feeling that one day you’ll decide the only way to stop all of this is to walk out there and give yourself up.”

I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. “I won’t. Not like that.”

His eyes searched mine. “Promise me.”

I hesitated.

He noticed. “Roxanne.”

“I can’t promise something I don’t control,” I whispered. “But I can promise this—I’ll fight until I have nothing left.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted. But it was the truth.

For a moment, he just looked at me, then pulled me into his arms. “Then I’ll fight with you.”

\---

Night came heavy.

The Creed finally moved.

It started with a flare in the sky—red smoke curling above the trees. Then a line of torches appeared in the fog, marching slowly toward the gates. At the center of the procession was a single figure in black, her stride calm, her head held high.

The sister.

The one who had stayed in the shadows.

Until now.

The hybrids at our estate stirred uneasily, some whispering, some pressing closer to the windows as if drawn to her. Rhea stood beside me, her hands trembling.

“She’s calling them,” Rhea whispered.

“Not just them,” Echo said. “She’s calling you.”

The torches stopped twenty feet fro

m the gate. The woman in black raised her head, and even through the fog, I could see her eyes.

Golden.

Just like mine.