Chapter 2 What I Was Sent to Do
I remember the taste of ash and iron.
That was the first thing my coven taught me about poison—it always leaves a memory. Even the cleanest blend, even the kind meant to look like illness or weakness or fate, leaves something behind.
A reminder.
The memory comes back to me now, sharp and unwanted, as I stand on pack land under a blood moon that should never have chosen me.
But the flashback drags me under anyway.
The coven chamber was carved into stone older than any map. Roots pushed through the ceiling like fingers, thick and black with age, pulsing faintly with moonlight. The circle was already formed when I entered—seven women, cloaked and waiting, their faces half-shadowed, half-familiar.
They didn’t offer me a seat.
That should have been my first warning.
“Mira Holloway,” the High Matron said, her voice echoing too loudly for the size of the room. “You know why you’re here.”
I did.
I just hadn’t wanted to believe it.
“The packs are mobilizing,” she continued. “Our scryers have seen it. Alphas gathering. Borders tightening. The wolves are preparing for war.”
I swallowed. “And you think killing one man will stop that?”
A murmur rippled through the circle.
The High Matron’s mouth thinned. “Not one man. A king.”
She lifted her hand, and the air shimmered.
An image formed above the stone floor—firelight, a towering hall, a man seated like the world bent around him.
Alaric Bloodhowl.
Even in illusion, he radiated something heavy and unforgiving. Power wasn’t just in his posture—it was in the way the image held.
“The Alpha King,” the Matron said. “Remove him, and the packs fracture. They always do.”
My pulse quickened. “You don’t know that.”
Her gaze snapped to me. “We do.”
Another witch stepped forward—Edria, sharp-eyed and unsmiling. “You are uniquely suited for this task.”
I laughed once, short and humorless. “I’m a spy, not an assassin.”
“You are a witch,” Edria corrected. “And your blood reacts to moon magic in ways we barely understand.”
That, finally, chilled me.
The Matron gestured, and a small vial appeared in her palm. The liquid inside was dark, almost black, thick as oil.
“Nightbane,” she said. “Distilled. Refined. Bound with your sigil.”
I stared at it. “That kills wolves.”
“It weakens them,” she said calmly. “Slowly. It mimics sickness. By the time the bond between Alpha and pack strains, he will already be dying.”
My chest tightened. “And how exactly do you expect me to get close enough to poison the most dangerous wolf alive?”
A pause.
Then the Matron smiled.
“You will go as human.”
The word felt like a lie even then.
“You will offer healing, labor, service—whatever earns trust. Wolves underestimate humans. Especially women.”
Anger sparked hot and fast. “And if I’m discovered?”
“You won’t be,” Edria said.
“And if I am?”
Silence.
That was my answer.
The Matron stepped closer, pressing the vial into my palm. It burned cold against my skin.
“You will have one chance,” she said. “The poison must be administered during a full moon, when his power is highest. That is when it will bind to his blood.”
The blood moon.
My throat went dry. “If I refuse?”
The roots overhead creaked, tightening, magic stirring through the chamber like a held breath.
“You won’t,” the Matron said softly. “Because you know what happens if the packs rise unchecked.”
Images flashed through my mind—burned villages, torn borders, witches hunted through forests that no longer remembered mercy.
“You’re asking me to die,” I said.
She met my gaze without flinching. “We are asking you to make it matter.”
I looked down at the vial in my hand.
It was small. Light.
Something that could fit easily into a boot, a sleeve, a pocket close to my heart.
Something that could end a king.
“I won’t enjoy this,” I said quietly.
“No,” the Matron agreed. “That is why we chose you.”
The memory shatters.
I’m back on pack land, the echo of Alaric Bloodhowl’s voice still vibrating through my bones. The bond hums between us now—hot, relentless, unforgiving.
My hand curls reflexively toward my boot.
The vial is still there.
Hidden.
Waiting.
And the cruelest truth of all settles heavy in my chest:
I was sent here to poison the man my soul just recognized as its mate.