Chapter 4 Blood On Silver
The knife gleamed under the weak light, its silver edge still shaking from impact. Water dripped from the blade onto the counter in rhythm
Lila stared at the ring hanging from the hilt. Her stomach twisted hard. She’d seen it once under the full moon, the night Damon took her sister's hand instead of hers. That night, the world had split open. The sight of it now made her feel like someone had just dug up her own grave.
Aiden’s grip on her wrist stayed firm. “Don’t touch it,” he said again.
Her voice came out tight. “It’s just a ring.”
“It’s a warning,” he said. “And it’s laced.”
He didn’t release her until he was sure she understood. Then he pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket, careful as a surgeon. Using it, he slid the knife free of the wood and placed it on the counter. Whatever it was coated in wasn’t natural silver.
Rye leaned forward, keeping a healthy distance. “Who even throws silver like that? It’s like they want us to know this is a wolf thing.”
“They do,” Aiden replied.
Lila crossed her arms to keep her hands from shaking. “Then say it plainly,” she said. “My old pack sent that.”
Aiden didn’t deny it. The silence said enough.
She turned toward the shattered window. The rain had slowed, soft sheets of water sliding down the glass. Outside, the streetlights flickered weakly. Mystic Drops looked quieter now, like the city itself was holding its breath. Her reflection in the glass stared back at her eyes darker, shoulders set like she was bracing for another hit.
“They’re not going to stop,” she said quietly.
Aiden’s tone was calm, absolute. “Then we make them.”
Rye let out a dry laugh. “You make that sound simple.”
“It is,” Aiden said. “You cut off the head of the threat.”
Lila turned sharply toward him. “You can’t just kill them,” she snapped. “They’re a pack, not monsters.”
His gaze drifted back to the knife. “That’s what monsters say before they bite.”
She stepped closer, her voice steady but laced with something raw. “You think I don’t know what they’re capable of? They took everything from me. But if you go after them like that, they’ll take more.”
Something flickered behind his eyes not quite anger, not quite pity. “You sound like someone who still wants to believe they can change.”
“Maybe I do,” she said. “Because if they can’t, then what does that make us?”
For a long moment, no one moved. The air between them hummed with quiet tension. The rain picked up again, softer this time
Rye cleared his throat loudly, trying to slice through the silence. “Before one of you murders the other with dramatic eye contact, can we talk about the actual problem? Because that knife came through the window, and I didn’t see anyone out there.”
Aiden turned his head. “You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure I’d notice someone chucking silver through the glass,” Rye muttered.
Lila frowned, scanning the street again. “Then whoever threw it wasn’t close.”
Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “They’re watching from higher ground.”
Her stomach sank. Across the street stood the old building, cracked walls, half its windows boarded up, the rest hidden under grime. The top floor was dark except for one faint flicker of movement.
Aiden was already moving toward the door. “Stay here.”
Lila’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. “I’m not waiting again.”
He looked at her hand, then her face. Whatever emotion crossed his features was gone too fast to name. “Fine,” he said quietly. “But stay behind me.”
They stepped out together into the wet night. The air was sharp, laced with the scent of metal and wolf familiar yet tainted. The street stretched empty and slick.
When they reached the other building, the door hung crooked, one hinge squealing as Aiden pushed it open. The smell hit first damp wood and rot. Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing softly down the hall.
They climbed the stairs, careful with every step. Lila’s flashlight was dead, but she didn’t need it. Her senses were awake again too awake. Each creak of the boards made her pulse spike.
Halfway up, she stopped. There was a sound ahead faint, steady, mechanical. A ticking. It didn’t belong to the storm or the building. Her skin prickled.
Aiden heard it too. He raised a hand for silence, moving toward the sound like a shadow with purpose. The ticking grew louder with each step, until they reached the top landing. A door was cracked open, a sliver of red light pulsing through.
Aiden nudged it open with his boot. It swung inward slowly.
The room was nearly empty. Just a single chair, centered perfectly under the ceiling beam. And on it, a small metal device with a blinking red light.
Lila’s pulse jumped. “Aiden”
“a timer,” he finished.
The light blinked faster.
“Run,” he said.
They turned at the same time. The explosion came too soon.
The blast tore through the walls with a roar, light and heat swallowing everything. Lila hit the ground hard, the air ripped from her lungs. Fire flashed across her vision, and then all she could hear was ringing endless, high-pitched, suffocating.
She pushed herself up, coughing. “Aiden!” she shouted, voice breaking.
No answer.
Her chest seized. Flames ate at the floorboards, heat clawing at her skin. She moved through the haze, half crawling, half stumbling until she saw him pinned under a fallen beam, half buried in rubble.
“Aiden!” She gritted her teeth, pushing the burning wood off him. He groaned faintly, blood running down his temple.
“Don’t move,” she said, her hands shaking as she checked him over. “You’re hurt.”
He tried to push up anyway, his voice rough. “It was a trap.”
“I know.”
Then she smelled it — thick, metallic, wrong. Not smoke. Blood. She looked down at her arm. It was soaked, but not her own.
“Aiden…” she whispered.
He blinked hard, trying to focus. “That wasn’t meant for us.”
Her heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”
“They were aiming for someone else,” he managed.
“Who?”
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted toward the shattered window, where the smoke thinned enough to show the street below.
Lila followed his gaze and froze.
Two figures stood across the street, silhouettes framed by the rain. One tall, one small. Both cloaked in black. But even from this distance, she recognized the glow of their eyes.
Gold. Familiar. Impossible.
Her breath caught. “No…”
The smaller figure tilted her head slightly, and in the flicker of lightning, Lila saw her face delicate, sharp, hauntingly similar to her own.
Sienna.
Her sister. Still alive. Still glowing gold.
And smiling.
Lila’s knees nearly gave out. The heat, the blood, the smoke it all fell away for a second. She could only stare as Sienna turned, disappearing into the night like she’d never been there at all.
Aiden’s voice rasped behind her. “Who was that?”
Lila swallowed hard. “My sister.”
The rain hit the flames outside, sending up hissing steam. Somewhere beneath it all, Lila could hear her wolf stir, faint but awake again and furious.
Because whatever game the Iron Fang Pack was playing, it had just become personal.