Chapter 2 PHASE TWO
The silence of the library had become a vacuum, sucking the air from my lungs. Dorian was gone, vanished into the architecture, chasing a decoy that my Beta contact had strategically deployed. I stood amidst the marble pillars, clutching the Law of the Shadow Age—the very evidence of his lethal deception.
My hands were steady now. The trembling of the Beta assistant had evaporated, replaced by the deep, icy calm of the Red Alpha. I pulled the concealed knife from the sheath beneath my sweater, the metal cool against my palm. Not to attack, but to remind myself of the raw, simple truth of my mission.
He’s not just powerful. He’s damaged.
The book slipped into my oversized handbag, blending with the clutter of supposed research notes. My glasses went back on, but they felt heavy—the final component of a costume that was now suffocating.
I moved, not with the hurried fear of an assistant, but with the calculated speed of a predator leaving a kill zone. I reached the main floor just as the double oak doors burst open.
Dorian.
He wasn't running anymore. He strode, the anger on his face a controlled, terrifying storm. His clothes were slightly disheveled—a single button on his vest was undone, and the gray dust from the upper floor still clung to his shoulders. He hadn't caught the decoy; he had simply aborted the chase.
He saw me immediately. My heart hammered, but I forced my expression into that familiar blend of relief and confusion.
"Alpha! What happened? I heard a sound—"
He stopped a meter away. The sheer force of his presence felt like a physical wall. His eyes, the color of cooling magma, swept over me, searching not for damage, but for deviation.
"Stay still," he commanded.
He didn't touch me, but the air around us tightened. I could feel his Alpha scent intensifying—the rosemary sharp, almost aggressive. He was scanning the area, searching for any lingering trace of the intruder. And then, he scanned me.
I let my power contract, pulling it deep into the core of my existence. I made myself small, dull, and weak. The scent of fear I usually produced was fake; now, I layered it with genuine panic, just enough to satisfy his superior senses.
He leaned in, his face inches from mine. I could see the tiny fracture in his eye—a fleck of pure gold near the pupil that pulsed faintly.
"You saw nothing, heard nothing," he stated, his breath hot against my cheek. "You were reading about treaties."
"Yes, Alpha," I whispered, keeping my gaze respectfully averted towards his shoulder—the shoulder with the damning gray dust.
He stayed there for a long moment, his focus relentless, trying to tear through the last fragile layer of my lie. I gave him nothing but the scent of obedient terror.
Finally, he pulled back. A sigh—a small, almost human sound—escaped him. "Good. Go back to your quarters. And forget you heard anything tonight. Understand?"
"Understood, Alpha."
He dismissed me with a cold nod, then turned and began issuing sharp, decisive orders to the guards who were now flooding the library entrance.
I didn't head for my quarters. I headed for the pack's abandoned East Wing—the designated rendezvous point.
My secret Beta contact, Lukas, was already there. He was huddled in the shadow of a broken fountain, his breathing ragged. Lukas wasn't physically strong; his strength was his invisibility as a lower-ranking member and his proficiency with signals.
"The sound cue worked," I said, my voice low and devoid of the Beta tremble. "Did he see you?"
Lukas shook his head, wincing. "No, but... he was fast, Serra. Terribly fast. I've never felt an Alpha's aura so close. I thought he was going to snap my spine just by looking at me."
"He won't touch you," I assured him, though I knew the risk was astronomical. "He can't use his full strength."
Lukas looked up, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "What do you mean? He's Dorian Volcan. He's the most powerful Alpha alive."
"He is," I conceded, leaning closer. "But he is terrified of his own power. He is deliberately stifling it."
I opened my handbag and produced the ancient text. "This is the source of his weakness. The Law of the Shadow Age. It details how to seal the inner wolf. And if it's true... then when power is constrained, the curse is unleashed."
Lukas stared at the book, then at me. "What is his curse, Serra? Why would he risk his life to hide it?"
I looked away, towards the forbidden forest pressing against the pack's boundary. "His curse, Lukas, is what I need to exploit. My mission isn't to kill him; it's to force him to unleash the one thing that can destroy him. Or... destroy us all."
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my knife. I felt a surge of Red Alpha power—a searing heat—in my blood. It was time to choose a path: the easy retreat, or the deadly escalation.
"Phase Two begins tonight," I declared, my voice a solemn vow. "We don't go after his power. We go after the control that keeps his power sealed."
I handed Lukas a small, unmarked key card—the access key to the Pack Archive.
"Go to the Archives. Find every record of a 'Purge of the Crimson Bloodline' that happened 25 years ago," I instructed. "Dorian is distracted tonight. We use his panic."
Lukas paled. "That was your family, Serra. Your past."
"Exactly," I affirmed, the coldness returning to my eyes. "The best way to destroy an enemy is to remind him of the crimes he thought he buried. Find the name of the Beta who betrayed my family. That traitor is still in this pack. And they will be my first move."
Lukas nodded, the fear still present, but now mixed with a terrifying resolve.
As he slipped away into the shadows, I turned back toward the imposing main hall where Dorian was still issuing orders, radiating constrained power. I smiled—a genuine, predatory smile this time, not the weak tremble of a Beta.
The fragile mask was still on, but behind it, the hunter was awake.