The war room felt like a tomb carved from living stone, lit by a single silver lamp that hung above the table like a cold, judging moon. Maps and scrolls covered every surface—edges curling with age, ink faded to ghosts of battles long forgotten. In the center lay the Oracle's leather map, its surface now scarred by the single drop of Leo's blood I had paid as the price.
I stood at the head of the table, palms flat on the freezing stone. My silver eyes reflected the crimson glow rising from the parchment. The bloodlines didn't just sit on the surface; they pulsed like living arteries, mapping a path that had been hidden for centuries.
Ryan flanked my left, shirtless still, the white bandages stark against his bruised skin. General Kael stood opposite, his scar livid in the lamplight, arms folded like iron bars across his chest.
"The royal city is a fortress," Kael said, his voice low and final. "Walls fifty feet high, silver-laced stone that burns rogues on contact, patrols every thirty seconds. The Usurper has ten thousand soldiers who have spent two decades learning how to kill us. A frontal assault is suicide. We would lose everything before we reached the outer gate."
His thick finger traced the glowing lines on the map until it stopped at a hair-fine thread that snaked beneath the city, bypassing the walls, the wards, and the guards, ending directly beneath the prison.
"The Vein," he named it. "An ancient drainage tunnel built when the first kings still walked with the Moon Goddess. It surfaces inside the lowest cell block, where the light never touches. The entrance is sealed by blood magic so old the world has forgotten it exists. Only the true royal line can open it."
His single eye lifted to meet mine.
"Your blood, Princess. Your command."
I stared at the thin red line. It looked less like a tunnel and more like a noose. But it was the only way to reach my father before the silver madness took him completely.
Ryan's hand settled on my lower back—steady, warm, an anchor in the rising storm. "Then we go small and silent. Six wolves, no more."
Kael nodded once, approving. "Myself, the Alpha, the Princess, and two of my best shadows. We leave at the dark of the moon. Four days."
The heavy iron door creaked open behind us, interrupting the strategy session. We all turned to see Damon standing there, propped up on crutches carved from ash wood. His face was ashen, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of moving. His left leg was gone below the knee, the fresh stump wrapped thick in blood-spotted bandages. He had lost weight in just two days; the proud, powerful lines of his body looked hollowed out by pain.
"I heard," he rasped, swaying slightly. "Take me anyway. One leg, half a leg, I don't care. Put me in a sniper nest. I failed you once by slowing you down on the ice. Let me make it right."
Ryan crossed the room in three strides. He gripped Damon's shoulders hard enough to bruise, holding him up when the crutches slipped.
"Listen to me," Ryan said, his voice rough with everything we had survived. "You are not coming. You are staying here."
"Alpha—"
"You are staying here and guarding my son with your life." Ryan's gray eyes burned with intensity. "That is the most important mission left in this world. Do you understand me? If we fall, Leo is the last hope. You are the only one I trust to keep him breathing."
Damon's jaw worked. Tears—real ones, born of frustration and loyalty—stood in his eyes. "I should be at your side."
"You are," Ryan said fiercely. "Every breath Leo takes because you stand between him and the world, you are there with us."
Damon closed his eyes, fighting a battle within himself. Finally, he nodded once—broken, but obedient.
"I will keep him safe," Damon whispered. "I swear it on my blood."
With the plan set and Damon resigned to his duty, the council dispersed to prepare, but my night was far from over. I left the war room and made my way through the winding tunnels to the small, damp chamber the resistance had given Leo. It was time for the hardest moment of my life.
Leo sat on the narrow cot, knees drawn to his chest, clutching the stuffed wolf Ryan had won him until the seams strained. He looked so small in the dim light. His eyes were too old for a five-year-old—red-rimmed, terrified, knowing. He sensed the goodbye hanging in the air before I even spoke.
I knelt on the stone floor, ignoring the cold biting into my knees. I took both his small hands in mine. The silver dagger lay across my palms—the same one that had killed Scarlett, now cleaned and sheathed in soft leather.
"Mama has to go get Grandpa," I said. My voice did not shake. It could not. He needed it to be steel so he could be brave. "I have to go into the dark for a little while. But I will come back. I swear on the moon and every star, I will come back to you."
Leo's face crumpled. His lip trembled. "Don't leave me, Mama. Please. I don't want Grandpa. I want you."
The sound that tried to climb my throat would have shattered mountains. I swallowed it whole, tasting iron.
I pressed the dagger into his hands instead, folding his fingers around the hilt. "This is yours now. It's very sharp and very brave, just like you. When you hold it, I'm holding you. When you're scared, squeeze the handle and remember Mama is fighting to come home."
Leo clutched the dagger like it was my heart made of steel. Tears rolled down his cheeks and froze there.
I reached up and unclasped the thin silver chain from around my own neck—the one Ryan had given me the night of the Luna ceremony. The moonstone was still warm from my skin. I fastened it around Leo's throat.
"Count the nights by this stone," I whispered, smoothing his hair. "When it turns warm again, I'll be walking through the door."
He threw his arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder. I held him tight, breathing in the scent of milk and baby shampoo, memorizing the weight of him against me. It felt like ripping my own soul out of my chest.
"I love you," I murmured into his curls. "I love you more than the moon loves the sky."
I kissed his forehead, his eyelids, the salt trails on his cheeks. Then I stood before my legs betrayed me. Damon waited in the doorway, crutches under his arms, face carved from grief. He opened one arm.
Leo ran into it, burying his face in the Beta's coat. Damon's hand settled protectively over my son's head, his eyes meeting mine over the curls.
Trust him, Ryan had said.
Beware the shadow, the Oracle had warned.
I looked at Damon one last time, searching for the shadow in his eyes. I saw only pain. Walking away from my son felt like leaving my body behind, but I forced myself to turn. The hours bled away into preparation until the clock finally struck the hour we had agreed upon.
The departure came at midnight.
Six wolves stood at the mouth of the hidden tunnel that would become The Vein. Black tactical gear hugged our bodies—modern ceramic plates worn over ancient chainmail. Silver swords crossed with suppressed rifles. Our faces were painted with ash and shadow.
General Kael's massive frame filled the entrance like a war god come to collect his due. Ryan checked the slide on his pistol one last time, the click echoing loudly in the silence. He looked at me, his gaze dark and hungry, as if memorizing my face in case it was the last time.
I wore the same black gear, my hair braided tight against my skull. The royal aura was banked now, burning low and hot behind my eyes. I drew a slow breath that tasted of damp stone, torch smoke, and destiny.
"Ready?" Ryan asked softly.
I touched the empty place at my throat where the moonstone used to be.
"Let's go get the King," I said.
We stepped into the dark.
As the heavy stone door began to grind shut, sealing us into the earth, I risked one final glance back toward the bunker. Far up the tunnel, standing in the circle of torchlight, Damon stood on his single leg. He was watching the six of us disappear. Leo slept against his chest, dagger clutched in one fist, moonstone in the other.
The flickering light played tricks on my eyes. For a second, Damon's expression seemed to shift. The grief vanished, replaced by something unreadable. Something cold.
Calculation?
Or just the shadows playing games?
The stone door slammed shut with a boom that vibrated in my teeth, cutting off the light, the warmth, and my son. The mountain kept Damon's secret as the tunnel swallowed us whole.