"Stay behind me." I kept my voice low, scanning the thick tree line of the Black Pine Forest.

"I'm trying, Elara," my sister Ivy whispered. Her fingers dug into the heavy fabric of my jacket, tugging me slightly off balance. "It's just so dark out here."

"You asked to come on patrol." I stopped and faced her. "You told the Alpha you wanted to learn how to fight."

"I do." She huddled closer, wrapping her arms around herself. "But I didn't think we'd go this deep. The border is dangerous."

"Danger doesn't stay in the light." I adjusted my grip on my silver-coated blade. "If you want to survive in this pack, you need to know these woods. Just step where I step."

I turned back to the trail, my senses on high alert. As the older sister, keeping Ivy safe was my only job. I had spent my entire life shielding her from the harsh realities of our world. Every scar on my body belonged to a fight I took so she wouldn't have to.

I glanced over my shoulder to check her footing. Her eyes weren't squeezed shut in fear, like she pretended. Instead, her gaze darted left, then right, tracking the moss-covered rocks and the broken branches. She wasn't stumbling. She was memorizing the route.

"What are you looking at?" I asked.

"Nothing," she squeaked. She immediately dropped her gaze to her boots and let out a little shiver. "Just making sure I don't trip over a root."

I narrowed my eyes. "Keep your eyes on my back."

We walked another fifty yards in silence. The wind died down, leaving the forest eerily quiet. No crickets. No owls. Just the crunch of our boots on the dead leaves.

A sharp snap echoed through the woods.

Ivy's boot rested on a sunken patch of dirt. The leaves shifted. A hidden rope pulled taut against the bark of a nearby pine.

"Move!" I shoved her hard in the chest.

She stumbled backward into the brush just as the ground exploded.

Iron jaws slammed shut around my right calf. Metal teeth tore through my pants and sank deep into my muscle. The sheer force of the trap dragged me to my knees.

I bit down hard enough to taste blood, forcing the scream back into my throat. Coppery blood flooded my mouth. I refused to make a sound. Noise attracted predators.

"Elara!" Ivy shrieked from the bushes.

"Stay down," I grunted, my hands flying to the iron mechanism. I pulled at the metal, but it wouldn't budge.

Above me, the canopy rustled. A heavy, weighted net dropped from the branches, pinning me to the forest floor. The thick ropes dug into my skin, coated in a sticky, foul-smelling sap.

Fire erupted in my veins. Wolfsbane.

The poison seeped directly into my open leg wound. My vision blurred at the edges. My fingers went numb against the cold iron of the trap.

Twigs snapped in the distance. Heavy footsteps crunched over the dry earth.

This wasn't a careless hunter's trap. Hunters didn't rig nets in the canopy. This was a coordinated ambush.

"Help!" Ivy screamed, scrambling to her feet. "Someone help us!"

"Ivy, quiet," I hissed, struggling against the netting. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony up my leg. "Hide!"

"We're trapped! By the old riverbed!" she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

I froze. I stopped pulling at the net.

Why was she giving them our exact location?

"Over here! Just past the ravine!" she cried out again.

Her voice didn't waver. She wasn't panicking. Each shout echoed through the trees, perfectly timed, acting as a beacon for whoever was hunting us.

"Stop shouting," I commanded. "You're drawing them right to us."

"I'm calling for the pack!" she argued. She didn't look at me. She kept her eyes fixed on the dark tree line, waiting.

"The pack is miles away. The only people hearing you are the ones who set this trap."

"Someone will come," she said flatly. The fear was completely gone from her tone.

A massive shadow broke through the brush.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Declan.

He stepped into the moonlight, his broad shoulders tense, his golden eyes scanning the clearing. Relief washed over me like a cool rain. He found us. My mate—the future Alpha—was here.

He locked eyes with me. He saw the iron trap crushing my leg, the poisoned net holding me down, the blood soaking into the soil.

His jaw tightened. He took a fast step toward me, his hands reaching for his blade.

"Declan!" Ivy wailed.

She collapsed to the ground, grabbing her perfectly fine ankle. "Declan, it hurts! I think it's broken!"

Declan stopped dead in his tracks.

The bushes rustled louder now. Three rogues stepped into the clearing, their eyes glowing with unnatural malice. They unsheathed their blades. The smell of rotting leaves and stale blood filled the air.

Declan looked at the rogues. He looked at Ivy crying on the ground. Finally, he looked back at me.

"Get her out of here," I rasped, gripping the iron jaws of the trap. "I'll hold them off. Just cut this net."

I waited for him to rip the ropes off me. I waited for him to stand by my side and fight, just like we always did. We were a team. We always protected each other.

Instead, he pivoted. He walked away from me and crouched beside my sister.

"I've got you, Ivy," he murmured, scooping her into his arms.

Ivy buried her face in his chest. Over his shoulder, she opened her eyes and looked straight at me. A small, cold smile touched her lips.

My stomach dropped. The truth landed harder than the poison in my veins.

She led me here. She knew about the trap.

Declan stood up, holding her tightly against his chest.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Declan, the wolfsbane is in my blood. I need you."

He didn't answer. He adjusted his grip on my sister.

"Declan." My voice cracked. It was the first time I had ever begged him for anything.

He paused. His boots dug into the dirt. The rogues took another step forward, raising their weapons.

"Please," I whispered, the poison burning a trail toward my heart. "Don't leave me."

He didn't turn his head. He didn't even shift to see my pain.

"You'll manage," Declan said, his voice flat and empty. "You always do."

He carried her into the darkness, disappearing into the shadows of the pines.

The rogues circled closer, their boots crunching on the dry leaves.

I lay in the dirt, the wolfsbane paralyzing my limbs. The cold iron bit deeper into my bone.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

I just stared at the empty space between the trees where my mate and my sister had vanished.

He didn't even look back.

The biggest rogue stepped over my trapped leg, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face, and raised his silver blade high above his head.

"Wake up, mutt."

A bucket of freezing saltwater slammed against my chest, washing down my torn right leg.

Agony ripped through my calf. The bear trap had shredded the muscle, and the raw edges of the wound festered. Every time I twitched, the scabs tore open again.

I choked on a gasp, straining against the heavy iron chains binding my wrists to the damp stone wall. Wolfsbane coated the metal. The poison seeped into my skin, turning my veins to ice and locking away my wolf. I pushed my healing energy toward my leg. Nothing happened.

"Look at me," the rogue leader demanded.

He grabbed my chin, his thick fingers digging into my jaw. A jagged scar cut across his nose.

"Is that the best you can do?" I spat a mouthful of blood and spit onto his boots.

He backhanded me across the face. My head snapped to the side.

"You've got a smart mouth for a dead woman," he sneered.

"Then kill me," I challenged, meeting his gaze. "Get it over with."

"Too easy." He kicked my injured leg.

I bit the inside of my cheek to trap the scream. I needed to stay awake. I needed to memorize this place.

Four guards total. They swapped shifts every four hours. Their boots scraped the stone in a predictable rhythm. The heavy oak door groaned for exactly five seconds before shutting. There was only one exit, plus a rusted grate near the ceiling.

"You're awfully quiet," the leader noted, pulling a silver hunting knife from his belt. "I expected begging. Crying. Where's the fierce First Warrior now?"

"She's calculating how long it will take to snap your neck once she gets out of these chains," I replied.

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You aren't getting out. This is for what you did three years ago."

Three years ago. The border wars.

"You were the ones raiding the western ridge," I stated, the pieces falling into place.

"My brother led that camp," he snarled, pressing the flat of the silver blade against my cheek. It burned on contact. "You slaughtered half our pack to put that Declan on the Alpha seat."

"They attacked our pups," I shot back. "I did what I had to do."

"And now I do what I have to do." He stepped back, wiping the blade on his pants. "Funny thing, though. We spent months tracking your patrols, trying to find a blind spot."

He leaned in, a malicious grin stretching his scarred face.

"We didn't even have to hunt you tonight. Your little sister screamed at exactly the right time."

The words punched the air from my lungs.

"Don't talk about her," I warned, my voice dropping an octave.

"She gave us the signal," he mocked. "Right by the old riverbed. Perfect positioning. She sold you out, Elara."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Who walked away with your Alpha?" He chuckled, turning toward the heavy oak door. "Enjoy the salt. I'll be back in an hour to peel off another strip of skin."

The door slammed shut. The lock engaged with a heavy clunk.

I sagged against the chains.

*Your little sister screamed at exactly the right time.*

Ivy. She knew about the trap. She led me to it. The realization twisted like a knife in my gut, sharper than the silver, worse than the wolfsbane.

The physical pain dragged my mind backward, plunging me into memories I tried to bury.

Three years ago, standing in the center of the pack council room.

"You are our strongest female, Elara," Elder Thorne announced, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.

Declan stood beside me, his golden eyes watching me, waiting for my answer.

"Take your place as Declan's Luna," Thorne continued. "It is your right."

I shook my head. "No."

"No?" Thorne frowned, exchanging a look with the other elders. "It is a great honor. You will rule by his side."

"I want a place I earned myself," I told the council, lifting my chin. "Make me First Warrior."

"A female has never held that rank," Thorne argued.

"Then I will be the first."

I wanted respect for my blade, not my womb. I took the title. I took the scars. I bled for Declan, for the pack, for Ivy.

And this was my reward. Chained to a rotting wall in a forgotten cellar.

A familiar, bitter voice echoed in my head. My mother, Dinae.

"Look at Ivy's painting, Elara. Isn't it beautiful?" Dinae's voice drifted through my memory.

I stood in the kitchen, twelve years old, knuckles split and still bleeding from the training yard. I held out the small iron token the warriors had given me for winning the day's sparring.

Dinae didn't even glance at it. "You're too rough, Elara. Stop brawling. Be more like your sister."

It was always Ivy. Ivy the delicate. Ivy the perfect.

One tear slipped free and stung the cut at the corner of my mouth.

I bit down until the sharp pain cleared my head.

I will not cry for them.

"I am not dying here," I whispered to the damp stone. "I am going to kill every single one of you."

Footfalls echoed down the corridor outside my cell.

I stiffened. The rhythm was wrong. It wasn't the heavy, dragging step of the leader. It wasn't the synchronized march of the guards.

These steps were light. Fast.

Someone paused right outside the heavy oak door.

The iron lock clicked.

I didn't come here for a rescue mission.

For half a month, I tracked the illegal wolfsbane shipments across the northern border. The trail led straight to this rotting cellar. My goal was simple: map the compound, gather the ledger evidence, and leave no trace.

Then I looked through the iron grate.

The woman chained to the damp wall was a mess. Blood soaked her torn clothes. Her wrists were heavily blistered beneath the rusted cuffs, the skin raw and weeping. Below her knee, the flesh around a massive trap wound had turned a sickly, infected black.

Her eyes were swollen. She had been crying.

Yet, she wasn't making a sound.

I crouched lower, narrowing my gaze. I had seen countless fighters face their end. Usually, they screamed. They bargained. They cried out for their mothers or their mates.

She just stared at the oak door.

Her head tilted a fraction of an inch. Her eyes tracked the shadows shifting under the doorframe. She seemed to be timing the guard's footsteps.

My brow furrowed. She internalized the agony, locking it away behind a wall of pure silence.

*She's hasn't finished,* I thought.

A sudden draft pushed through the narrow cellar window, carrying her scent straight to me.

Cedar. Post-rain earth. A sharp tang of fresh copper.

My chest tightened. My pulse skipped a single, strange beat. I rubbed my sternum, blaming the reaction on holding my breath in the damp air.

*Why do I want to get closer?*

It wasn't a mate bond. I would know if it was. It was just an irrational, magnetic pull. A warning bell ringing in the back of my skull.

I needed to walk away and stick to the mission.

Instead, I stepped away from the grate and moved toward the cellar entrance. I couldn't let her die down there.

Footsteps scuffed the dirt outside the heavy oak door. The guard shifted his weight. He hummed a tuneless song, tossing a rusted key ring in his palm.

I picked up a loose stone and flicked it down the dark corridor. It clattered against the far wall.

"Who's there?" the guard grunted.

He dropped his hand to his hilt. He took two steps into the shadows. I stepped out from the blind spot behind him.

I clamped my hand over his mouth and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the stone floor hard. Before he could struggle, I drove the pommel of my dagger into his temple. He went limp.

I snatched the keys from his belt.

I slid the largest iron key into the lock. It clicked heavily.

I pushed the door open.

The moment the hinges groaned, the woman lunged.

Her leg was crushed, her veins pumped full of poison, and she was chained to the wall. But she threw her entire upper body forward. The rusted links whistled through the damp air. She swung her chained wrists in a vicious arc aimed right at my throat.

I ducked under the heavy iron. I grabbed her forearms, pinning them together before she could strike again.

"Easy," I ordered, keeping my voice low. "I'm not one of them."

She fought against my grip. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion, but her glare was pure ice.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Your way out," I answered.

"I didn't ask for a rescue."

"Good. I didn't come here to give one."

I forced her arms down and shoved the key into the rusted cuffs. The locks gave way with a harsh grind. The heavy chains hit the floor.

She immediately shoved my chest, trying to put distance between us. Her injured leg buckled. She pitched forward.

I caught her by the waist.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, swiping at my arm.

I ignored her protest and lowered her gently to the stone floor.

"You're bleeding out," I told her. "If you walk on that leg, the infection will spread to your heart within the hour."

"I can walk."

"You can barely stand."

I crouched in front of her, keeping my face level with hers. I offered no pity. Pity was an insult to a warrior.

"Don't move," I said flatly. "You'll make it worse."

She clamped her jaw shut, her eyes darting to the open doorway.

I pulled a small glass vial from my tactical pouch.

"What is that?" she asked, her eyes tracking my hands.

"Purifying elixir. It strips the wolfsbane out of the muscle."

"Will it work?"

"It will burn."

"Do it," she challenged, not blinking.

I uncorked the glass and poured the clear liquid directly over the blackened flesh of her calf.

The solution hissed on contact. White smoke curled off her skin.

She didn't scream. Her fingernails dug into the dirt, scraping against the stone until her knuckles turned white. A single tremor violently shook her shoulders, then she forced herself completely still.

"Impressive," I noted, wrapping a clean bandage tightly around the wound.

"Are you going to talk, or are we going to leave?" she snapped.

I tied off the linen and stood up.

"We're leaving."

I leaned down and scooped her into my arms.

She stiffened instantly. Her hands hovered awkwardly near my chest, refusing to hold on. Her entire body remained rigid, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. She kept her gaze fixed on the dark corridor ahead, scanning for threats.

"You're a lot of trouble," I muttered, adjusting my hold on her waist.

"Put me down and you won't have to deal with it," she retorted.

I didn't put her down. I didn't want to.

"Keep your voice down," I warned, stepping over the unconscious guard. "We have three minutes before the next patrol."

I carried her up the damp stone steps, moving quickly toward the forest edge. The night air hit us, freezing and sharp.

We reached the tree line just as a loud, piercing horn shattered the silence of the compound.

"They found the guard," she whispered, her fingers finally gripping the fabric of my shirt.

"Hold on," I said, breaking into a run.

Before we could clear the first row of pines, a massive silver wolf stepped out from the shadows, blocking our path.

The beast bared its teeth, a low growl vibrating through the earth.

"Well," a familiar, mocking voice called out from the darkness behind the wolf. "Look who finally decided to show up."