Chapter 83
THIRD PERSON POV
Two days had passed since Ryker’s disturbing visit to the garden, and Seraphina’s mind had become a war-torn wasteland. His words had burrowed deep, sprouting into thorns of doubt that twisted around every thought.
He doesn’t deserve you.
The sentence looped endlessly, a poison she couldn’t purge.
She stood motionless in the library, staring up at Kael’s portrait. The artist had captured him perfectly—quiet, unyielding strength in his shoulders, honor and gentleness shining from his eyes. Yet Ryker’s voice slithered beneath the image, mocking it. Seraphina exhaled sharply, the sound ragged in the silence.
That treacherous spark Ryker had ignited with nothing more than a brush of fingers was flaring into something dangerous. It terrified her. Wanting him—however fleetingly—felt like the ultimate betrayal of her vows, her pack, herself.
And yet… she had poured every piece of her heart into loving Kael. Years of devotion, of waiting, of sleeping alone in a bed that was meant for two. He had never truly seen her. Never once reached for her in the night.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Ryker was shadow and ruin; everyone knew he thrived on chaos. Whatever game he was playing, it reeked of malice.
She needed to know what it was.
With a resolute breath, she decided. She would confront him. She would demand answers.
Even if a treacherous part of her whispered that answers weren’t the only reason she was going.
~
The Same Day
Ryker’s Fortress
Ryker’s Fortress crouched like a predator in the heart of an ancient, choking forest, its black stone walls dripping with menace. The air itself felt heavy with threat, as though the building exhaled cruelty. This was the lair of the Bloodshed Warriors—Ryker’s rogue army of murderers, exiles, and starving wolves who had traded their souls for his promises of power.
A faint, shaken breath slipped from Seraphina as she approached. What am I doing? her mind screamed, but her feet kept moving, pulled forward by a force stronger than fear.
She wore a plain hooded gown the color of pine needles, a heavy charcoal cloak swallowing her shape and hiding her face. She looked like any weary traveler, not the Luna of the Crescent Moon pack. She could not afford to be recognized.
Three guards melted out of the darkness, hands already on sword hilts.
“Who goes there?” one snarled, thrusting his spear until the cold iron kissed her throat.
Seraphina’s pulse thundered, but she did not flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her hood.
“Luna Seraphina,” she said, voice steady, chin high.
The guards exchanged glances. One laughed outright; another sneered.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, ice in her tone.
“What business does a Luna have here?” the first guard growled, pressing the spear closer. “Come to spy?”
“I’m here to see Ryker—”
“It’s Lord Ryker,” he spat, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “Show respect, or I’ll carve it into you.”
Seraphina’s fists clenched beneath her cloak, but her face remained a mask. “Tell him I’m here,” she said, knocking the spear aside with a sharp swing of her arm. She stepped forward until she was nose-to-nose with the guard. “He’ll want to see me. Unless you’d rather explain to him why you turned away his… guest.”
The guard faltered. Fear flickered behind the bravado—he knew better than to risk Ryker’s wrath.
He bowed stiffly. “Forgive my rudeness. I’m Elias. I’ll escort you.”
The gates groaned open like the jaws of some great beast. Seraphina stepped through, and they slammed shut behind her with a clang that made her jump, her hand flying to her racing heart.
Elias led her forward. Rogues lounged in the courtyard, tearing into raw meat with their teeth, eyes glowing with feral hunger as they stared at her. Women and children darted between the chaos—this was no mere fortress; it was a twisted, thriving village of the damned.
They climbed a winding stone staircase, passed beneath leering gargoyles, and walked a hallway lined with gruesome trophies: mounted horns, blood-stained furs, portraits of conquered enemies.
At last, they stopped before a massive black oak door. Elias knocked.
“My Lord, it’s Elias. Lady Seraphina is here to see you.”
Silence.
Then the door opened with a soft, predatory click.
Elias gestured her inside. The moment she crossed the threshold, a maid hurried out, slamming the door behind her. Seraphina startled at the sudden bang, spinning toward the sound.
“Don’t be scared,” Ryker’s voice purred from the shadows, low and amused.
She froze.
“Who’s there?”