Chapter 17 — The Ambush in the Pines

Three days after Kade's betrayal, the foothills turned traitor too.

Ariana Thorn stood at the edge of an ancient pine grove, eyes narrowed against the wind that carried the sickly sweet stink of Kael's mark — a scent she'd once worshipped, now a poison that curdled her wolf's belly.

Behind her, the rogues moved like shadows through the trees. Lucian was at her left shoulder, fingers brushing the back of her hand when the chill threatened to slip under her bones. He didn't say a word — he didn't need to. His presence was a vow louder than any pack howl.

The old pack trail was a narrow ribbon of earth cutting through the pines. Snow still clung to the needles overhead, dripping in slow, rhythmic taps. Ariana crouched and touched the tracks in the mud — fresh, deep, too heavy to be scouts.

She bared her teeth. "Kael sent his royal guard."

Lucian snorted softly. "Good. I'm starving."

Kade — wrists bound, face still bruised from Ariana's claws — shifted behind them with a bitter grunt. "If you're smart, you'll run now."

Lucian turned, his grin all cold teeth. "And if you're smart, you'll keep your mouth shut before I decide you're more useful as bait."

Ariana ignored them both. She stood, drawing her dagger from her boot — the same one that had slit Kael's spies like deer throats. She held it up, catching the faint light leaking through the canopy. The blade glowed, faint but constant — the Thorn's bloodline humming under her skin.

She turned to the rogues gathered at her back — rough men and women who'd once shivered at Kael's name, now waiting for hers.

"Two squads," she ordered. "Flank the trail, push them toward the clearing. Lucian and I take the point."

No one argued. Not anymore.

They moved like ghosts through the pines, the wind swallowing their scent, the snow muffling every crunch of boot and paw. Ariana's heartbeat slowed to a predator's crawl, her wolf's senses sharp enough to taste the steel ahead — the tang of Kael's royal guard.

They saw them first — four shadows trudging down the trail, armor glinting in brief flashes when the clouds split to let moonlight spill through. Each carried the king's crest on their breastplate — an iron crown with a dagger through its heart.

Ariana's claws slid free. Kael never changes, she thought bitterly. He crowned himself in lies and called it loyalty.

Lucian leaned in, breath hot at her ear. "On your mark, Thorn."

She didn't whisper back. She just raised two fingers — then dropped them.

The rogues burst from the underbrush with a roar, fangs bared and claws flashing. The guards barely had time to spin before Ariana was on them — a slash of silver and blood. Her dagger sank into the gap between armor plates, right at the base of a thick neck. Hot blood sprayed across her face, steaming in the winter air.

One guard went down gurgling. Another turned on her, his sword a silver arc — she ducked under it, driving her knee into his gut before Lucian's claws tore out his throat from behind.

A snarl to her left — one of the rogues, a boy named Dane, howling as a guard's blade sank into his ribs. Ariana lunged, catching the guard's shoulder with her teeth, the taste of iron and rage flooding her mouth. The guard slammed an elbow into her jaw — but she didn't let go until bone cracked under her bite.

When the last guard fell, the clearing was slick with blood, pines shivering under the weight of the slaughter. The rogues pulled back, dragging bodies into the brush, checking each pulse to make sure no messenger would crawl back to Kael.

Ariana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ignoring the fresh bruise swelling along her cheek. Lucian stepped up, chest heaving, a wild grin splitting his face.

"Four down. Kael's going to be pissing himself."

She didn't smile. Her eyes locked on the bodies, a strange dread tightening her ribs.

"It was too easy."

Lucian tilted his head, a flicker of confusion cutting through the hunt-glow. "We caught them by surprise."

She crouched by one of the guards — a boy no older than twenty, eyes glazed and mouth frozen in a final gasp. Her claws cut open his breastplate. Inside, strapped to his tunic, was a folded scrap of parchment. Sealed with Kael's mark.

Ariana's blood turned to ice.

Lucian leaned over her shoulder. "What is it?"

She broke the seal with one claw, unrolling the letter. The words danced in her vision — Kael's scrawl, sharp and elegant.

"Let her think she's winning. She'll follow the trail like a dog. And when she stands in the ruins, crown in hand — we take her head."

Lucian read over her shoulder, low growl rumbling through his chest. "It's a trap."

Ariana's wolf lunged at the edges of her mind, furious and restless. "Not just for me. The ruins — he's drawing the packs there. He wants them to see me fall."

Lucian's jaw clenched. "Then we don't go."

But she was already shaking her head. "No. We do. But we turn the trap on him."

They made camp deep in the pines that night. The rogues gathered close, tension snapping like dry branches as they waited for Ariana's plan.

She sat cross-legged by the fire, the letter clenched in one fist. The crown rested in her lap, catching the sparks that rose into the dark. Kade was tied to a tree nearby, half-conscious, one eye swollen shut — Lucian's latest lesson in loyalty.

Dane, the young rogue who'd taken the sword to his ribs, hissed as a woman stitched the wound shut. "This is madness," he rasped. "He wants us to walk into his jaws."

Ariana didn't look up. "And we will. But we'll take his fangs with us."

Lucian sat behind her, back pressed to hers, his warmth anchoring her when the rage tried to slip its leash. "Say it out loud, Thorn. They need to hear it."

She exhaled, tasting smoke and blood on her tongue. "Kael thinks if he spills my blood in front of the Elders, they'll bend the knee again. They'll believe his lies about the royal line. That the Thorn is just a mutt, a broken girl playing at queen."

She lifted the crown, iron and bone gleaming in the firelight. "So we give him a show. But not the one he wants."

A rogue named Mira leaned forward, scars twisting her mouth into something close to a grin. "What's the plan?"

Ariana's eyes flicked from face to face — young, old, broken in ways that mirrored her own. "We go to the ruins. But we don't stand on his stage. We bury it in fire and blood. We rip the Elders from their thrones and show the packs that Kael's crown is nothing but ash."

Silence. Then, one by one, the rogues started to grin — sharp, wild things that belonged to wolves who'd forgotten how to bow.

Lucian's lips brushed her ear. "You're going to get us all killed."

She tilted her head, fangs grazing his jaw. "You're welcome to run."

He laughed — a raw, dark sound that made the pines shiver. "Run? Thorn, I'd burn the realm with you."

Later, when the fire burned low and the rogues drifted into restless sleep, Ariana slipped from the circle of warmth and stalked to the edge of the grove. Lucian followed, silent as the snow.

They stood under the ancient pines, moonlight dripping like silver blood through the needles. Ariana tilted her head back, letting the cold bite into her bones.

"You should have killed Kade," Lucian said quietly.

She didn't look at him. "I need him to remind the others what loyalty costs."

Lucian's hands settled on her hips, warm and grounding. "And when Kael sends the rest of his hounds?"

She turned, burying her face against his throat, breathing in his wolf. "Then we'll tear them apart together."

His laugh rumbled through his chest, soft and dangerous. "My queen of claws."

Her lips brushed his jaw. "My rogue king."

They kissed under the pines — slow, desperate, a promise written in teeth and bruises. When they pulled back, Ariana's eyes burned gold in the moonlight.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, her claws digging into his shoulders, "we hunt the Elders."

Lucian's answering grin was a snarl. "And Kael learns the Thorn never dies easy."

Far below the pines, deeper in the black belly of the realm, Kael sat in his throne room — an iron crown gleaming on his brow. His spies whispered at his feet, feeding him rumors like poisoned honey.

"She's coming," one of them breathed. "She took the bait."

Kael's smile was all polished fangs. "Good."

But if he'd been listening closer — if he'd smelled the shift in the wind, the way the woods stirred with the Thorn's rising storm — he might have realized:

The girl he cast aside was not coming to bow.

She was coming to bury him.