Chapter 10 Clash between blood
Draven’s roar split the morning.
“DOUBLE THE PATROLS. I WANT EVERY INCH OF THAT FOREST TURNED INSIDE OUT.”
Wolves snapped to attention across the courtyard, some mid-shift, others barely finished strapping on weapons. Orders flew fast and sharp, carried on the weight of alpha command. No one questioned him. No one dared.
The Northwood forest had swallowed Elara whole, and Draven was tearing at its throat.
“Trackers to the eastern ridge. Scouts to the ravine. If you find anything—blood, cloth, a scent trail—you report directly to me.” His eyes burned, feral, bloodshot. “And if any rogue is found on my land…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
The first scream came less than an hour later.
A patrol returning from the outer perimeter never made it back. What reached the pack instead was the copper-stench of blood rolling in on the wind, thick enough to make seasoned warriors gag.
Rogues.
By the time Draven arrived, two of his guards lay torn open, throats shredded, claws still half-embedded in the dirt where they’d tried to fight back. Trees bore deep gashes, bark peeled like skin. Whoever had attacked hadn’t been hunting for food.
They’d been sending a message.
Draven dropped to his knees beside one of the bodies, fingers shaking as he pressed against a still-warm chest. The wolf beneath his skin surged, furious, unrestrained.
“Find them,” he snarled, voice breaking into something ugly. “Find every last one of them and bring me their heads.”
The ground trembled under his aura.
Several wolves flinched.
Rylan arrived moments later, breathless, eyes taking in the carnage. His jaw tightened. Rogues on Northwood land meant one thing.
Chaos.
As the others scattered to obey, Rylan turned away, heart pounding. He needed air. Silence. Anything to drown out the echo of Draven’s rage.
That was when he heard them.
“…honestly, maybe it’s better she’s gone.”
Rylan slowed.
“She was always trouble. Half this, half that. Never really belonged.”
A pause. Then laughter, low and cruel.
“No one wanted a halfling as a mate anyway. Alpha only kept her because he felt entitled.”
A pause. Then the words that made his blood turn cold.
“No one wants a halfling as a mate.”
Silence followed.
Then quiet agreement.
Rylan turned.
Two wolves stood frozen, eyes wide, mouths half-open like prey caught under a blade.
“You finished?” Rylan asked calmly.
Neither answered.
“Because I’d really love to hear more about how easy it is to decide someone doesn’t matter once they’re gone.”
One swallowed hard. “Beta, we—we didn’t mean—”
“You meant every word,” Rylan snapped. “You just didn’t expect to be heard.”
They tried to back away.
Rylan stepped forward, voice shaking now. “That girl grew up watching this pack look through her like she was already dead. And now that she might actually be, you think it gives you permission to gossip?”
Their faces drained of color.
“Get out of my sight,” Rylan growled. “Before I remember I’m allowed to break bones.”
They fled.
Rylan stood there long after, chest tight, guilt clawing at him harder than any rogue ever could.
"We failed her," Iman, his wolf murmured.
“I know,” Rylan whispered.
His leg led him to the north wing. The last door. His hand hovered over the door knob for a brief moment before he opened it.
The room smelled like dust and ghosts.
Memories stared back at him from every wall. Childhood laughter frozen in time. Hector’s proud smile. Draven before power hollowed him out. Cierce before envy sharpened her into something cruel.
And Elara. She had been eight years old. Too thin and too quiet. Smiling like she wasn’t sure she was allowed.
Rylan lifted the frame carefully.
“I should’ve protected you,” he whispered. “I should’ve protected him too.”
A voice cut through the air like a blade.
“I thought I banned people from this room.”
Rylan didn’t turn.
“Good thing you said people,” he replied. “Because I’m not a stranger here.”
Draven stepped closer and ripped the picture from his hands.
“You don’t get to touch her,” Draven snapped.
That was it.
"You know what?" Rylan turned, fury erupting at last. “I’m done with you pretending she was only yours.”
Draven’s eyes flashed. “Watch your tone.”
Varkai, Draven's wolf, roared.
Rylan didn’t bow, instead Iman rose, snarling back. "He bleeds like any other wolf."
“Careful,” Draven warned, alpha aura slamming into Rylan like a wall.
“No,” Rylan said sharply. “I’ve watched it for years. While you broke her. While you let Cierce poison this pack. While Father rotted in chains beneath his own pack.”
Draven stiffened.
“Don’t say his name.”
“Hector,” Rylan said deliberately. “Our father. The man who raised her like his own. The man you locked away because he dared to stand between you and her.”
Draven’s aura surged violently. “He defied me.”
“He defended her!” Rylan shouted. “From you. You tortured him to prove you were Alpha enough. Too bad you are just a low-life scared pup."
Draven froze.
For half a second, surprise flickered across his face.
Then his eyes burned brighter, shifting fully, the brown swallowed by molten red. His nails elongated into claws with a wet, grinding sound. Veins stood out along his neck as his wolf forced its way forward.
Varkai emerged.
Not fully shifted, but close enough. His hair darkened, thickened, brushing his shoulders like a mane. Fangs descended, long and sharp, glistening with saliva.
“You forget yourself,” Draven said, but his voice was no longer fully human. It rumbled, layered, two voices speaking as one. “I am your Alpha.”
Iman laughed inside Rylan’s skull. A harsh, broken sound. "You are the wolf who chained our father, Kael snarled back. You are the wolf who broke our sister."
Rylan moved first. He didn’t think or hesitate.
His fist collided with Draven’s jaw with a crack that echoed through the room. Draven staggered back a step, more from shock than pain, before his snarl split the air.
The retaliation was immediate.
Draven lunged, claws ripping across Rylan’s chest. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed warm and dark against the stone floor. Rylan hissed through his teeth as Kael surged harder, forcing his bones to partially shift.
His spine arched. His canines lengthened. His eyes burned silver-blue.
They crashed into each other, the impact shuddering through the hall.
Draven slammed Rylan into the wall, stone cracking under the force. He drove his forearm into Rylan’s throat, pinning him there.
“You should have stayed silent,” Draven snarled, tightening his grip. “Like you always do.”
Rylan laughed, blood running from the corner of his mouth.
“That’s the difference between us,” he spat. “I stayed silent because I was afraid. You stayed cruel because you liked it.”
Iman roared.
Rylan twisted violently, ramming his knee into Draven’s ribs. Something cracked. Draven hissed in pain, losing his grip just long enough for Rylan to rake his claws across Draven’s side.
Blood followed.
Dark. Thick. Real.
Varkai howled in fury.
Draven’s control snapped.
His bones shifted violently, muscles tearing and reforming as he half-shifted, towering over Rylan, claws gouging deep as he tackled him to the ground.
They rolled across the floor, tearing into each other with teeth and fists and claws. Draven bit down hard on Rylan’s shoulder, fangs puncturing deep. Rylan screamed, the sound torn from him as Kael answered with savage rage.
"For Hector," Iman snarled.
Rylan headbutted Draven, the crack sickening. Blood streamed down Draven’s face, blinding one eye.
“Hector was weak!” Draven roared. “He deserved—”
The sentence never finished.
Rylan’s claws plunged into Draven’s chest, right over his heart and the room went still.