The flare hung in the sky like a dying star—red, pulsing, turning the trees bloody.
Kael stumbled out of the tent, chain dragging behind him like a leash. The two escorts had unchained his wrist from the cot but kept the cuff on—one end still locked to his arm, the other dangling loose. A reminder. A weapon if he swung it right.
Growls rolled through the camp. Low. Throated. Wolves shifting—some half, some holding back. Tents flapped as people poured out. Weapons glinted: knives, silver-edged blades, a few rifles slung over shoulders.
Darius stood at the center of the clearing. Coat open. Calm. Like he was hosting a meeting, not a slaughter.
He looked at Kael once. Nodded.
"Stay close," he said. "Don't run. Don't die. Yet."
Kael didn't answer. His pulse hammered too loud.
Liora appeared at the edge of his vision—black jacket, gun drawn now, held low. She didn't look at him. Eyes scanned the tree line.
Another flare went up. Brighter. Closer.
Then the first shot cracked.
Not at them. Into the air. Warning.
A voice shouted from the dark woods—human, amplified.
"Silverfang pack! You've got one minute to hand over the silverblood! Or we burn the whole forest down!"
Darius laughed—soft, amused.
"They always say that."
He raised a hand.
Wolves surged forward—silent, fast. Melting into shadows.
Kael felt the pull again. Stronger. The wolf didn't want to wait anymore.
He clenched his fists. Claws dug in. Blood welled.
Liora stepped beside him. Close enough their shoulders brushed.
"Stay human," she muttered. "If you turn now, they'll shoot you first."
Kael bared teeth. "They're already shooting."
She didn't argue.
Darius moved—smooth, deliberate—toward the tree line. Voice carried without shouting.
"You want the boy? Come get him."
Silence. Then laughter from the dark.
A third flare. This one arced low—landed in the brush twenty yards out.
Fire bloomed. Fast. Dry pine needles caught like tinder.
The smell hit Kael—smoke, panic, something primal.
The wolf lunged inside him.
He staggered. Dropped to one knee.
Liora grabbed his arm. Hard.
"Breathe. Fight it."
He snarled at her. "I'm trying."
She didn't let go.
Then the hunters came.
Not a mob. Organized. Six—no, eight—figures in dark gear. Masks. Tactical vests. Silver bullets glinting in bandoliers. They moved like soldiers.
First shots rang out—aimed low, at legs. Warning fire.
A wolf yelped. Dropped.
Darius moved then—fast. Too fast for human eyes.
He crossed the distance, grabbed the nearest hunter by the throat. Lifted. Snapped.
The body hit the ground.
Chaos.
Wolves poured from the trees. Claws. Teeth. Growls turned to roars.
Hunters fired—controlled bursts. Silver sparked off bark. One wolf went down hard—chest blooming red-black.
Kael's vision tunneled.
The heat surged—white-hot, unstoppable.
He felt bones shift. Crack. Lengthen.
"No—" he gasped.
Too late.
The change ripped through him.
Not full. Not clean.
Halfway.
Spine arched. Claws lengthened fully. Fangs dropped. Fur rippled across shoulders, arms—patchy, angry.
He roared—sound tearing out of him.
Liora stumbled back. Gun up. Aimed at his chest.
Then lowered.
"Kael—"
He didn't hear her.
The wolf saw hunters. Saw fire. Saw threat.
He charged.
First hunter didn't see him coming.
Kael slammed into him—shoulder to chest. Ribs cracked. The man flew backward into a tree. Didn't get up.
Second hunter swung a silver knife.
Kael caught the wrist. Twisted. Bone snapped.
The knife fell.
He didn't stop.
Claws raked across the vest. Fabric tore. Flesh tore.
Blood sprayed.
Hot. Copper. Right.
The wolf liked it.
Kael hated it.
He felt himself screaming inside—*stop, stop, stop*—but the body kept moving.
Another hunter raised a rifle.
Liora tackled Kael from the side.
They hit the dirt. Rolled.
She pinned him—knee on his chest, gun to his temple.
"Stop!" she shouted. "Kael—look at me!"
His eyes—yellow now, slitted—locked on hers.
She wasn't scared.
She was furious.
"You kill one more and Darius wins," she hissed. "He'll say you're proof. That you're the monster he needs to control."
Kael's chest heaved.
The wolf snarled.
But something in her voice cut through.
He blinked.
Yellow faded. Just a little.
Liora eased off. Slowly.
Kael rolled to his knees. Shaking. Half-human again. Claws retracting—slow, painful.
Blood on his hands. Not his.
He looked at the hunter he'd torn open.
Chest still. Eyes open. Staring at nothing.
Kael retched. Nothing came up.
Liora pulled him back—away from the body.
"Stay down," she whispered.
The fight raged around them.
Darius was everywhere—blurring, tearing, commanding.
Then a new voice cut through the noise.
Sharp. Female. Broken.
"Enough!"
Elysia stepped into the clearing.
Hair wild. Eyes blazing.
She held no weapon.
Just herself.
Hunters paused. Wolves froze.
Darius turned. Slow.
"Elysia," he said. Warning in the name.
She ignored him.
Walked straight to Kael.
Knelt in front of him.
Blood on the ground between them.
She reached out. Touched his face—gentle, trembling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Kael couldn't speak.
She looked into his eyes.
Then spoke—quiet, but everyone heard.
"The curse didn't start with your father."
She swallowed.
"It started with me."
Kael stared.
She kept going. Voice cracking.
"I was the first silverblood born in three generations. Not him. Me. I hid it. I thought if I never turned, if I stayed human, it would die with me."
Darius stepped closer. Face hard.
"Elysia—"
She cut him off.
"I passed it to Kael. But I didn't know the full truth until after he was born."
She looked at Darius.
"You knew," she said. "You knew the silverblood line wasn't just power. It was a tether. A chain. Whoever carries it can be… bound. Controlled. By the one who claims them first."
Darius's smile was gone.
Elysia turned back to Kael.
"I ran to keep you free. But Darius found us anyway. He let me hide you—because he wanted you to grow up angry. Alone. Easier to break later."
Kael's voice came out hoarse. "Why?"
She touched his cheek again.
"Because the curse doesn't kill the pack if the silverblood turns alpha."
She leaned closer. Whispered so only he could hear.
"It kills the silverblood's heart. Piece by piece. Until there's nothing left but the wolf."
Kael felt the world tilt.
Elysia stood.
Looked at Darius.
"You want control?" she said. Loud enough for everyone.
She spread her arms.
"Then take me instead."
Darius stared.
Then laughed—cold, empty.
"You think that changes anything?"
Elysia smiled. Sad. Tired.
"It changes everything."
She turned to Kael one last time.
"Run, baby," she whispered.
Then she shifted.
Not half.
Full.
Silver-white fur. Massive. Eyes glowing.
She lunged—not at hunters.
At Darius.
Claws met coat. Blood sprayed.
Darius roared—shifted mid-step.
The clearing exploded again.
Liora grabbed Kael's arm.
"Now," she said.
Kael didn't move.
He watched his mother fight—teeth, claws, fury.
Watched Darius meet her.
Watched blood hit the dirt.
Liora yanked harder.
"Kael—move!"
He finally looked at her.
Tears on her face.
He stood.
The wolf howled inside—not angry.
Grieving.
They ran.
Into the trees.
Behind them—roars, gunshots, fire.
And his mother's scream—cut short.