Chapter 20 — A Thorn Among Traitors

The safehouse breathed with the restless sleep of wolves who knew the hunt was never really over. Snow drifted in slow, lazy flakes past the broken shutters. In the corner room, Ariana Thorn stirred from a dream where Kael's laughter echoed through the woods — only to find Lucian's heartbeat under her cheek, steady and real.

She lay there a moment, listening to him mumble in his sleep. He always slept light, half-wolf even when his eyes were shut. But exhaustion had pulled him under tonight, deep enough that he didn't stir when her fingers traced the fresh scars on his chest — souvenirs of Kael's royal guard.

Ariana slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. She pulled on her boots and the battered coat Mira had patched for her. The floor was cold as stone always was — reminding her that warmth was a luxury they'd stolen with blood and might lose again by dawn.

She padded through the dark hallway, stepping over sleeping rogues. They were sprawled like pups, weapons tucked against their bellies, every twitch of an ear or snarl in sleep proof that the beast never really rested.

At the far end of the lodge, a faint glow seeped through a half-open door. Voices hushed, sharp, too sharp. Ariana's wolf perked its ears, lips peeling back from her teeth.

She pressed her shoulder to the wall, straining to catch words.

"…told you she'd bring this down on us. The Elders' blood is on our hands now. Kael will burn us alive."

"Lower your voice!" Another voice, older, cracked with fear. "If she hears—"

"She's one girl. One girl with a dead bloodline and a crown she barely deserves. The Thorn's name is a ghost. Kael is the king."

Ariana's claws slid free. Quiet as a winter fox, she pushed the door open with the flat of her palm.

Three rogues froze in the half-light — the biggest, Garren, still had the stink of royal guard blood under his nails. The other two, a pair of brothers who'd once sworn to die at her feet, stared at her like rabbits caught in the snare.

Ariana stepped into the room, boots whispering across the rotting floorboards. She didn't raise her voice. Didn't need to.

"Is this how you speak of your queen?"

Garren's eyes darted to the others. "We didn't mean

She crossed the room in two strides and grabbed him by the throat. He slammed into the wall with a bone-jarring crack. The other two stumbled back, one of them knocking over an old table in their scramble.

Ariana's claws pressed into Garren's pulse. She could feel it hammering under her thumb. Her wolf savored the fear — the traitor stink.

"You think Kael will take you back?" she hissed. "After you stood in the ruins with me? You think he'll forgive the crown you helped burn?"

Garren gagged, eyes bulging. His claws scraped at her wrist, but she was steel now. She was the Thorn.

"You are pack," she snarled. "And you break before you bow to a traitor king."

She released him just enough to let him wheeze. The others shrank back, heads bowed, eyes averted — but Ariana saw the flicker there. Doubt. Fear.

Good. Let them fear.

"On your knees," she commanded.

Garren dropped like a felled tree. The other two followed, hands pressed to the filthy boards.

Ariana let the silence stretch. The lodge seemed to hold its breath — even the wolves half-awake in the shadows dared not speak.

"You want Kael?" she asked, voice low and cold. "Go to him. Run through the woods like dogs and beg for scraps. See how he rewards your betrayal."

No one moved.

She bared her teeth. "Or you stand. You fight. And when he comes — and he will come — you tear out his throat for every pup he left to starve. For every elder he bled dry on those altars. For every Thorn he tried to bury."

Garren's shoulders trembled. "He'll kill us all

Ariana leaned in, her lips grazing his ear. "So be it. Better to die with claws bared than live as his hound."

When she stepped back, her boots cracked through the ice forming on the floor. She didn't look back at the traitors as she left them kneeling in the half-light.

In the main room, the murmurs had started. Rogues waking to the tension, half-lifted heads and twitching tails. Mira was already leaning against a cracked beam, arms folded, smirk curling the corner of her mouth.

"Nice speech," Mira drawled. "Want me to cut their tongues out so they can't gossip again?"

Ariana shot her a look. "Later. We need every knife right now."

Lucian emerged from the shadows, hair mussed from sleep but his eyes sharp as a hunter's. He gave the three kneeling wolves one glance and barked a laugh.

"Thorn's making examples tonight."

Ariana pushed past him, shoulder bumping his. "Keep them alive. For now."

He caught her wrist, tugging her close. "Next time, wake me. You shouldn't face mutts alone."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Would you really kill them for me, Lucian?"

His fangs grazed her throat — a gentle warning. "I'd kill for you, Thorn. And I'd kill you if you ever bow to him again."

She bared her throat, not out of fear but as a promise. "Then stay close."

They did not sleep again that night. Instead, the rogues gathered in the main hall, every face lit by the flicker of a fresh fire. Ariana stood before them, Lyra perched on a stool near the flames — her mother's presence an anchor that silenced even the oldest, surliest rogues.

Lucian sat behind Ariana, one boot braced against the hearth, a silent threat to anyone who looked at her wrong. Mira paced like a restless hound, her knives flashing in and out of her belt.

Ariana spoke without flourish. "Kael lives. He will come. And he will bring wolves who believe the Thorn line is dead. That we are traitors. That our heads will buy them a place at his table."

Someone near the back — a kid barely sixteen, fur still patchy from his first shift — piped up. "What if we run? Hide in the lowlands? Let him fight the Elders alone?"

Mira's knife thunked into the post an inch from his ear. The boy yelped.

Ariana stepped closer, voice cutting through the growls and shifting feet. "We do not run. This crown," she lifted the Thorn's circlet for all to see, "is not just bone and iron. It is every pup who starved under Kael's taxes. Every sister who bled for his bed. Every pack who bent the knee and never rose again."

She swept her gaze across the room — faces half in shadow, half lit by fire. "If you can't bear that weight, go now. Run. I won't hunt you."

Silence.

Then Kade stepped forward, bruised and defiant, his eye still swollen shut but his head high.

"I followed Kael once," he said, his voice rough. "He promised power. I saw only graves. If you stand, I stand."

Mira grinned, tugging her blade free. "One traitor redeemed."

Lucian bared his teeth at Kade. "One slip, and I take your head."

Kade didn't flinch. He just dropped to his knees before Ariana, bowing low until his brow touched the cold stone floor.

One by one, the rogues followed. Some silent. Some chanting her name — Thorn, Thorn, Thorn — until it rose like a heartbeat in the broken lodge.

When the last had pledged, Ariana stepped back, chest heaving. Lyra's eyes glowed silver in the firelight.

"You will be queen, child," her mother rasped. "Not Kael. Not his sons. You."

Ariana's voice cracked. "Queen of ashes, maybe."

Lyra's laugh was soft, but there was steel in it. "Ash feeds new roots. Let him come. Let him burn. You are the thorn that blooms in ruin."

Lucian's arms slipped around her from behind. He pressed his lips to her neck, his wolf humming under her skin.

"Let him come," he echoed. "When he does, he'll find a pack ready to drag him down."

Ariana closed her eyes, feeling the weight of their loyalty — fragile, fierce, and sharpened by teeth and blood.

She would not break.

Not for Kael.

Not for crowns.

Not even for the girl she'd once been.