The Wolf's Den

Ironclaw Castle grew like a huge animal out of the rock. Black stone spires reached for the sky. Iron gates in the shape of teeth were open and ready to close. Sera felt sick to her stomach as their wagon went through. Ironclaw had never let anyone get away. That's what the stories said. He said, "Welcome to your new home," in a strangely soft voice. Before they got to the castle walls, Lady Vessa was gone again. She had told Sera in a whisper, "I'll find you when the time is right." "Remember who you are." Sera felt weak as she was alone with Darrow and his guards. The wagon stopped in a courtyard filled with fighters. All men. All watching her with hungry eyes. A horn blew three times. Guards stood at attention. 

From the main doors walked a man who could only be Alpha Ronan. He wasn't what Sera expected. Not a hulking brute but lean and strong, like a hunting cat. Auburn hair fell to his shoulders. A scar sliced down his left face, twisting his mouth into a permanent half-smile. His green eyes found Sera quickly. "The Silverblood," he said, his voice smooth as honey yet sharp as a blade. "Finally." Darrow helped Sera down from the wagon. Her legs wobbled after the long trip. Her silver chains clinked as she tripped. "Careful with my prize, Darrow," Ronan snapped. "Yes, Alpha." Darrow bowed his head. Ronan circled Sera, studying her like a farmer at market. "They said you were plain. Ordinary." His fingers brushed her cheek. "They lied." Sera jerked away from his touch. "Don't." The courtyard went dead. No one refused Alpha Ronan. Ever. His eyes narrowed, then he laughed. "Spirited! Good. Breaking you will be more fun." He grabbed her chain and yanked her toward the castle. Sera dug in her feet. "I am not yours to break," she hissed. Quick as lightning, Ronan's hand closed around her throat. 

Not pushing, just holding. A promise of what he could do. "You are whatever I say you are," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Queen Myra gave you to me. Your Alpha refused you. Your pack thinks you're a killer. You are nothing, no one, except what I make you." He released her and turned to his guys. "Feast tonight! We celebrate our new guest!" Cheers erupted. Ronan gave Sera's chain to Darrow. "Take her to the North Tower. Clean her up. Make her presentable." "Yes, Alpha." As Darrow led her away, Sera felt Ronan's eyes burning into her back. Not just looking at her. Devouring her. The North Tower stretched so high Sera felt dizzy looking up its spiral stairs. They climbed and climbed until her legs screamed for rest. Finally, Darrow opened a door at the very top. The room inside surprised her. Not a cell but a beautiful room. A canopy bed covered in furs. A campfire crackling with warmth. A metal tub filled with steaming water. Windows—real windows—looking out over endless woods. "This is... not what I expected," Sera admitted. "Alpha Ronan values his possessions." Darrow removed her chains but left the silver cuffs around her arms. "The windows are strengthened. The door locks from outside. Don't try to run." He turned to leave. "Wait," Sera called. "What happened to Lady Vessa?" Darrow's face showed nothing. 

"The witch is banned here. If she's found, she'll be killed." "Then why did she come so close?" "For you, obviously." He opened the door. "Three women will come to prepare you for tonight. Don't fight them. It won't help." When he was gone, Sera rushed to the windows. They were too small to climb through, and a dangerous drop waited below. The door was solid wood with iron bands. She was stuck. True to Darrow's word, three women arrived. Silent and effective, they stripped Sera and forced her into the bath. They scrubbed away days of dirt and blood. They brushed her long dark hair until it shone. They dressed her in a gown of deep green silk that hugged her body like a second skin. One put a silver circlet on her head. Another dyed her lips red. The third clasped a collar around her neck—silver, etched with strange symbols. Not tight enough to choke, but hard to forget. "What is this?" Sera touched the collar. "Alpha's mark," the oldest woman finally spoke. "So all know who you belong to." Sera's blood boiled. "I belong to no one." The woman's eyes softened with sadness. "That's what the last one said too." "Last one?" But the women left without answering, locking the door behind them. Sera paced the room. 

The silver collar felt cold against her skin. She tried to remove it, but it had no clip or lock she could find. Hours passed. The sky darkened. Music and laughter drifted up from below as the feast began. The door opened. Ronan stood there, changed from his riding clothes into black leather and silver. The same scar, but now he looked almost handsome in the torchlight. Almost. "My Silverblood," he purred. "Beautiful." "My name is Seraphina," she said coldly. "I know your name." He stepped into the room. "I know everything about you. Your past. Your family. Your... abilities." Sera backed away. "What do you want from me?" "An alliance." Ronan closed the door. "The Vale pack is weak. The Blackthorns are wicked. But Ironclaw—we are the future." "What does that have to do with me?" "Everything." His eyes sparkled. "Silverbloods are power. 

Your blood could strengthen my line for generations." Sera bumped against the wall. Nowhere left to flee. "You need my consent for that." "Do I?" Ronan's smile chilled her. "In Ironclaw, the Alpha takes what he wants." "If you try," Sera warned, "I'll kill you." Instead of anger, amusement crossed his face. "There it is. The fire I've heard so much about." He reached out, tracing the line of her jaw. "The fire that killed your sister." "I didn't kill Liora." "No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then who did?" "Liora killed herself," Sera blurted out. "Or something pretending to be her did." Ronan's hand stopped. "Interesting theory." "It's not a theory. I saw her ghost standing behind her own body!" "Ghosts?" He laughed. "Next you'll claim witchcraft and curses." "You don't believe me." "I believe you believe it." He stepped away. "Your mind broke when your mate refused you. It happens sometimes." Sera's hands curled into fists. "My mind is fine." "Then prove it." Ronan opened the door. "Join me at the feast. Behave as my future mate should. Show everyone the killer can be tamed." "And if I refuse?" His smile vanished. "Then you stay locked in this tower until you change your mind. No food. No company. Just you and your... ghosts." 

The choice was simple: play along and learn the castle, or stay imprisoned with no chance of escape. "Fine," Sera said. "I'll come to your feast." Ronan offered his arm. She took it, hating the touch but knowing she needed to seem cooperative. The great hall buzzed with hundreds of wolves from the Ironclaw pack. They fell silent when Ronan entered with Sera. Hungry eyes followed them to a high table. Ronan sat on a throne of real iron and bones. The chair beside him was smaller but similar. He led Sera into it. "My pack," he announced, "behold our honored guest. Seraphina Vale of the Vale pack. The last known Silverblood." Murmurs spread through the crowd. "Some of you have heard she killed her sister over a rejected mate bond." Ronan put his hand over Sera's on the armrest. His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. "But here, she starts anew. As my future mate." Gasps. Then cheers. Cups banged on tables. "I'm not your mate," Sera whispered furiously. "Not yet," Ronan agreed, still smiling for his pack. "But you will be. After the full moon rite, our bond will be unbreakable." "Full moon?" Sera's heart raced. "When?" "Three days from now." His eyes locked with hers. "When the moon is highest, you'll be mine forever." Three days. That's all she had to leave. The feast started. Meat so rare it dripped blood. Wine stronger than any Sera had tasted. Warriors did feats of strength for their Alpha's entertainment. Through it all, Sera noticed. Counted guards. Noted exits. Watched who held power besides Ronan. And she noticed something else: Darrow, standing behind Ronan's chair, eyes constantly sweeping the room. Not looking at danger to his Alpha, but at something else. 

Someone. 

Following his eyes, Sera spotted a serving girl with copper hair. The girl slipped something into Darrow's hand as she passed. A note? A key? Interesting. Later, as the feast grew rowdier, Sera leaned toward Ronan. "I need air." He studied her face. "Darrow, lead our guest to the balcony. Five minutes." The night air felt wonderful after the stuffy hall. Darrow stood by the door, watching her. "You're not what you seem," Sera said softly. "Neither are you," he answered. "Are you loyal to him?" Darrow's eyes hardened. "I'm loyal to Ironclaw." "Not the same thing, is it?" Before he could answer, the balcony door opened. A different guard appeared. "Alpha wants her back." Darrow nodded. "Go on." The feast lasted hours. By the time Ronan escorted Sera back to her tower, she was tired but determined. She had three days to leave. Three days before the full moon rite would bind her to a monster. At her door, Ronan caught her wrist. "Soon you'll welcome me into your bed." "Never," Sera spat. His eyes darkened. "We'll see." He pushed her inside. "Sweet dreams, little wolf." The lock clicked. Sera pressed her face against the cold wood, fighting tears of frustration. "Think," she whispered to herself. "Think!" She crossed to the window. The moon hung in the sky, nearly full. Below, the castle grounds stretched dark and ominous. Beyond lay woods. Freedom. Something glinted on the windowsill. Sera touched it. A tiny silver key, no bigger than her pinky finger. 

A note lay beside it, written in flowing script: "Midnight. Three hits. Be ready." Sera clutched the key, hope growing. Someone was helping her. But who? Lady Vessa? Darrow? Someone else entirely? As if in answer, the silver cuffs around her wrists warmed. The strange symbols began to glow—the same symbols from her dream, from the key that freed her from the palace cell. The silver collar at her throat vibrated. The metal softened, then slipped away completely, pooling like mercury in her palm before reshaping into a small dagger. Sera gasped. This wasn't normal magic. This was something older. Something in her blood. A sound outside her door made her freeze. Footsteps. Whispering. Then silence. She gripped the silver dagger, heart beating. Midnight couldn't come soon enough. Because when it did, she wouldn't just run. She would find answers.