[Point of View Shift: Xander - Blackclaw Territory]
The celebration in the Blackclaw clearing had turned sour, though the ale was still flowing and the bonfire still roared.
Alpha Xander sat on his throne of carved cedar, his hand gripping the armrest so hard the wood groaned. Chloe sat beside him, draped in his furs, her fingers tracing the mark on his neck—the mark of a Chosen Luna.
But Xander felt... hollow.
The rejection should have brought him relief. It should have cleared the path for his glorious future. But ever since Elena had walked into the darkness, a strange, persistent itch had been scratching at the back of his mind.
The way she had looked at him. The cold, lifeless vacuum in her eyes. It haunted him.
"Xander, darling," Chloe purred, her voice grating on his nerves for the first time. "You're brooding again. The defect is dead. My guards followed her. She won't survive the night."
"The scouts haven't returned, Chloe," Xander snapped, his amber eyes flashing. "They were supposed to report back two hours ago. Three trained warriors against a wolf-less Omega. Why haven't they sent word?"
"The storm is heavy," she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "They probably took shelter. Or perhaps they're enjoying themselves before they finish her off."
Xander stood up abruptly, shaking off her hand. He walked to the edge of the platform, staring into the dark woods of the Neutral Lands.
As an Alpha, he could feel the threads of his pack's magic. Normally, an Omega's death would send a small, barely noticeable ripple through the collective consciousness. But tonight, he felt something else.
He felt a massive, tectonic shift in the distance. A surge of power so violent it made his inner wolf whine in submissive terror. It hadn't come from a dying Omega. It had come from something... ancient.
"Alpha!"
A young scout burst into the clearing, his chest heaving, his face pale as a ghost. He collapsed at the foot of the platform, mud splattering the onlookers.
"Speak!" Xander commanded.
"The... the Redcrest scouts," the boy gasped, his eyes wide with horror. "We found them. Near the creek at the Black Ravine."
Chloe stood up, a smug smile on her face. "See? I told you they'd handle it."
"No, My Lady," the boy whispered, trembling. "They... they weren't the ones doing the killing. Two were found with their throats crushed. One was... disintegrated. And the lead scout..."
He swallowed hard, looking at Xander. "He was killed by silver. Driven through the brain by a hunting knife. A human weapon."
Xander's blood ran cold. Elena. She had been carrying a blade?
"And the girl?" Chloe hissed, her face contorting with rage. "Where is the girl?"
"She's gone," the scout said. "But Alpha... we found something else in the mud. Something that shouldn't be there."
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a single, massive black claw. It was the size of a dagger, curved and obsidian, vibrating with a dark, suffocating aura.
The entire clearing went silent. Even the wind seemed to stop.
Xander reached out and took the claw. The moment his fingers touched it, a vision of blood-red eyes flashed through his mind. A growl that sounded like the earth cracking open echoed in his skull.
"Lycans," Xander whispered, his voice trembling.
The Blackclaw Pack was a small, provincial territory. They were ants compared to the Shadowkeep. If the Lycan King was involved... if he had taken the girl...
"Search the border!" Xander roared, panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade. "I want every inch of that ravine scanned! If Elena Moon is alive, she is no longer just a reject. She's a death sentence for us all!"