Chapter 2

Sera’s throat burned as she blinked awake beneath a vaulted ceiling of black stone. Silver-threaded cloth bit into her wrists, each pulse lighting the filaments like distant stars. Candles guttered in sconces, casting uneasy shadows across rune-etched walls. Panic flared—until Cain’s voice, calm and clipped, drifted from the opposite bench.

“Drink,” he instructed, setting a carved bone cup before her. Steam rose in lilac tendrils.

She turned her head, mouth dry. “Why…?”

He pressed the cup to her lips. “Antidote wears off faster than I’d like. You’d be dead by now without it.”

She swallowed, the liquid bitter as regret. “You saved me.”

His golden eyes glimmered. “I didn’t kill you. There’s more profit in living assets than corpses.”

She ground her teeth. “Assets…?”

Cain rose and strode to a massive door carved with intertwined wolf and human figures. He threw it open. Two priestesses in blood-red robes waited. Their leader, with pitch-black hair and ivory skin, inclined her head.

“Begin the binding,” Cain said. He turned back. “No interruptions.”

Sera’s heart jolted. “Binding? I won’t—”

The lead priestess stepped forward, her voice low and venom-smooth. “The Vow-Blood Rite is irreversible once the first drop mingles. You will share… everything.”

Her words trailed off as Cain leaned close. She smelled the iron tang of old blood and colder ambition.

“Every heartbeat, every wound, every thought you can’t contain,” he said softly. “Your pain will warn me of betrayal. Your triumph will sharpen my victories.”

Sera glared. “You’ll regret using me like this.”

Cain’s hand curled into a gauntlet-clad fist. “Wake me if my regrets ever matter.”

He strode away, leaving her to the priestesses. Their soft chants echoed against the vaulted stone as they bound her wrists to an obsidian altar at the chamber’s center. The silver cords tightened until her pulse thrummed in hypnotic rhythm.

“Eyes closed,” the priestess whispered, tilting a chalice of her own blood over Sera’s bound hands. “And speak your oath.”

Cain stepped into the circle, the torchlight glinting off his armor. Sera’s pulse faltered at the sight of those ancient sigils scorched across his chest—like twin suns fighting to break free. His expression was unreadable. He knelt beside her, blade in hand: the scalpel she’d meant for his heart, now repurposed for ritual.

“Speak,” he repeated, voice echoing.

Sera hated the tremor in her own tone. “I, Sera Hudson, vow… never to lift blade against Alpha Cain Elvis again… until my blood’s debt is paid.”

Cain’s throat moved once. “Good.”

The scalpel nicked her palm; hot blood welled. The priestess guided his hand to her blood, then pressed Sera’s palm against Cain’s chest. Their blood mingled in a dark ribbon that gleamed on obsidian stone, frozen in time by the priestess’s final incantation.

Sera gasped as a pulse of cool fire seared through her veins. In the next heartbeat, Cain’s training yard thundered in her mind—steel on steel, his roar as he cleaved through foes. He staggered, brow furrowed.

“Unbidden,” he muttered, pressing his free hand to his temple.

Sera swallowed bile. A rush of childhood memory flooded her senses—smoke curling over snow-blasted trees, her mother’s cries as wolves descended on her village. She gasped, dizzy.

Cain’s eyes snapped open; his golden gaze locked onto hers. “Feel that,” he said, voice rough. “That was my first taste of battle rage.”

“Your… rage?” she croaked, gripping the edge of the altar.

“Your memory,” he corrected. “Bound to me now. And I own yours.”

She tasted bile. “You’ll pay for this.”

Cain rose, brushing blood from his chest. “No,” he replied. “You will serve me.”

The lead priestess inclined her head. “The ritual is complete. The bond will strengthen with each beat until dawn.”

Sera’s wrists slackened. She rubbed her palm, marveling at the tender ache where their blood had fused. It pulsed—her life, his life, entwined.

Cain gestured. “Guards.”

Two silent sentries stepped forward, hefting her to her feet. She staggered, unsteady, as the knot of power in her veins clenched.

“Your quarters,” Cain said, voice devoid of warmth. “And a map of the keep’s defenses will arrive at midnight. You will prepare tomorrow’s briefing.”

Sera’s jaw clenched. “Or…?”

He paused in the doorway. “Or you’ll find that the pain you inflict on me returns tenfold. Now move.”

———

That night, Sera lay on a narrow pallet in a guard-patrolled chamber. Moonlight slanted through narrow windows, fracturing across her bound wrists. Every pulse of silver in the threads reminded her of Cain’s debt. Her mission had shifted—she was no longer a lone assassin, but a parasite within the wolf’s den.

Footsteps approached. The door opened to reveal Cain, unarmored, cloak hung over his shoulders. He carried a rolled parchment and a single candle.

“I trust you slept well,” he said, placing the candle on a rough table.

Sera spat into the floor. “Don’t patronize me.”

Cain unrolled the map: Fenris Keep’s battlements, hidden caches, troop placements. He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Supplies run low in the east tower. The sentries rotate every two hours. The western gate’s alchemy stores are unattended after dusk.”

Her blood froze. He’d found her vial of explosive tincture in the infirmary.

“How did you know?” she demanded.

He closed the map, pinning her with that impossible gaze. “The bond tells me what you plan. The slightest hesitation, the tiniest flicker of desire to flee—it screamed through you when you inspected that gate.”

Sera’s mind raced. “And you still trust me with your plans?”

Cain shrugged. “I need someone who understands both healing and death. You’ll learn that servitude is preferable to execution.”

She leaned back, glare unwavering. “So I’m your strategist now.”

He stepped closer. “You’re my asset. Use your gifts. Convince my generals when to strike, where to hold—until I decide you’re useless.”

Sera’s breath hitched as another wave of his memories crashed through her: the anguish of comrades lost, the bitter loneliness of leadership. She clamped down on the empathy—it would be her downfall.

“I’ll… prepare,” she said, voice tight.

Cain nodded and turned, cloak swirling behind him. “By dawn, I want options.”

The door shut. Sera pressed her face to the cold stone wall, letting his heartbeat echo in her blood. Vengeance burned in her veins—but now she had to plan with his mind to end him. The first victory of war, she realized, might come from mastering the bond before it mastered her.

In the silent chamber, dawn had not yet broken. Sera’s thoughts raced, sharpened by shared blood. She was a prisoner—but the scalpel hidden beneath her pillow promised that some debts still waited to be paid.