Chapter 5 Trapdoor Revelation (Celia's POV)

I taste copper every time I draw a breath. My side throbs with dull, pulsing pain, the makeshift bandage damp from sweat and rain. Still, I refuse to slow. Night's cold wind whips against my face as I sprint down the deserted street toward Lucian's territory-a maze of alleyways and hidden gates known only to insiders. Every shadow could hide an assassin; every distant footstep could signal an ambush. But Ash Draven's taunt-gun to my temple-still echoes in my mind, and I won't rest until I confront the alpha who promised protection.

I skid around a corner and nearly skid out again on slick cobblestones. My coat flames red under a broken neon sign, illuminating the blood seeping through my sleeve. I press a hand against the wound, teeth clenched. Each step is a betrayal of my body's protest, but vengeance doesn't wait for healing.

Up ahead, the heavy iron gate swings inward on silent hinges. A pair of sentries stand guard-wolves in human skin, lean and watchful. One raises a hand in cautious greeting as I approach. "You're late," he says without warmth.

"Had company," I rasp, voice tight. He nods and steps aside. Beyond the gate, the compound's high walls are draped in ivy, runes glowing faintly silver under moonlight. This is Lucian's domain-half sanctum, half prison-for anyone he deems both threat and treasure.

I limp across the courtyard, muscles screaming. Flames gutter in torch sconces along the walls, casting long shadows that twitch like living things. Somewhere a barred door clangs shut. Somewhere else, distant chanting vibrates in the air-a warding ritual to keep intruders at bay.

I nearly stagger into Aric's waiting arms as I reach the main hall's arched entrance. He propels me inside, straight-backed and resolute, relief and concern warring on his features.

"He's in council," Aric says, his voice low. "Celia, you need rest-"

"Not yet," I interrupt, pressing my palm against the cool stone to steady myself. "I need answers." Pain blossoms across my ribs, but I swallow it down. "Where is he?"

Aric's jaw tightens. "Council is adjourned. He's waiting in the chamber." He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. "Be careful."

I nod once and push past him, boots echoing through the torchlit corridor. My knife is sheathed, talisman heavy against my chest, spectrometer clipped to my belt. I can feel Marisol's worry radiating in every piece of gear.

At the end of the hall, a pair of mammoth doors carved from black oak stands closed. I raise my fist and rap on the wood. Steady thumps answer from within. I exhale. Inhale. Knock again.

"Enter," Lucian's voice booms.

I push the doors open and step inside. The chamber is bathed in red lamplight. Once more, the council members-twelve pairs of unblinking eyes-regard me like a pack of starving wolves sizing up prey. Marcellus's ancient muzzle narrows. Morwenna's blank stare pierces me. Aric occupies a seat to my left, silent support etched on his face.

Lucian stands at the head of the semicircle, coat tails brushing the floor, amber eyes unreadable. He steps forward and I meet him halfway. The distance between us crackles with unspoken tension.

"What happened?" he demands, voice calm but sharp.

I draw in a breath and force the tale out in measured spurts. "Ash outmaneuvered me. I walked into a trap-his pistol at my temple. He said he's hunting my bloodline, Kane. He knows our bond. He knows prophecy." Pain flares as I shift my weight. I lift my jacket sleeve, revealing bruised ribs and fresh cuts. "He marked me-ritual scratches that burned like acid. Marisol says they're meant to tear opening in my blood, to spill power."

Lucian's jaw clenches. He stalks around the circle, every member giving us space like we carry plague. He reaches me and kneels, hand brushing the cut on my forearm. His touch sears, unlike healing magic. "He won't win," he murmurs.

"Won't he?" I whisper. "He's planning something bigger. He knows something about me I don't. He called me 'silver key.' He's gathering blood debts. And he let me go-why?"

Lucian rises, fists curled. "Because he wants you alive-for now." His gaze sweeps the council. "Prepare every sentinel. No one outside this council leaves until I say so. Marcellus-strengthen the wards."

Marcellus's growl is grudging assent. Aric stands, nodding, and Morwenna drifts forward, fingertips tracing glyphs in the air.

I swallow, heart pounding. "What about me?" I ask, voice small.

Lucian's look softens-just for a moment. "You stay at the sanctuary under guard. No more solo hunts." His words are a command and a plea. "I-" He stops, jaw working. Then: "I will be everywhere you aren't."

I press my fingers into my palm. The memory of his amber gaze, so fierce it cracked the night, rallies something in me. "Fine," I say. "But I'm not a captive."

He inclines his head. "Then you're my responsibility." He turns to leave, but pauses. "And Celia-thank you."

Heat rushes through me, hotter than any wound. I force my face steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Let's fix this," I say.

---

I'm escorted back to the infirmary under guard. The narrow hallway is lined with portraits of past alphas, eyes following my every step. In the infirmary, Marisol is waiting-spectrometer humming on the table, bandages stacked like prayer flags.

"Let me see," she says, pulling me to a cot. She presses cooling salve to my wound, and I sigh at the relief. "You should have called for backup."

I roll onto my side to look at her. "You know I don't do backup," I reply, wincing as the salve stings.

She rolls her eyes. "One day, your stubbornness will kill you." Her thumb brushes the talisman at my throat. "Draven's mark is more than physical-those runes can control you if he completes the ritual."

I tuck the talisman inside my collar. "Then we find him before he completes anything." I sit up, ignoring the ache in my back. "What have you discovered?"

Marisol taps her laptop. "Ritual runes abducted from the old Draven Pack's tomes-they piece together here." She points to a circle of runes on the screen. "This pattern opens a trapdoor between our world and the old one. He wants to cross through. The last time they tried-fifty years ago-entire city blocks disappeared."

My stomach twists. "So that's the trapdoor-"

"Exactly," she interrupts. "He's constructing it piece by piece. He used wolves to channel the magic. He's not just hunting prophecy-he's trying to break reality."

I let the weight of her words settle like stones in my gut. "We stop him," I say in a flat whisper.

She nods, fierce determination blooming in her eyes. "I've strengthened your tracer. Next wolf encounter, we'll track the magic back to its source."

I stand, resolve coiling in my chest. "And Lucian?"

She smirks. "He'll be at my side-he can't resist a good puzzle."

I allow a small laugh, though my lips tremble. "Then let's give him one hell of a puzzle."

---

That night, I slip from the infirmary, talisman tucked inside my coat, blade strapped to my thigh, spectrometer humming softly at my hip. The compound sleeps under warded spells-eyes that never blink. But beyond this sanctuary, the city waits with claws bared.

I step into the courtyard where fog curls like phantom fingers. The wolves at the gate stir but do not alert. I move past them, heart hammering, toward the street where Ash's puzzle pieces lie scattered.

Halfway down the block, I slow. There-etched into the cobblestone-a circle of ritual runes glows faint silver. My pulse hammers. The trapdoor's map. I drop to my knees, fingers tracing the symbols. They writhe beneath my touch, whispering promises of power and destruction.

A rasping breath behind me makes my blood turn to ice. I whirl-knife raised-and face two figures stepping from the fog: wolves in human skin, eyes glinting like molten gold. Their coats shimmer with arcane rune-etchings. They advance in perfect synchronization, fangs bared and claws extended.

I lunge forward, but they flank me-one to each side. A snarl echoes through the night as their claws slice the air, aimed right for my throat.

And in that moment, the trapdoor's glow intensifies, reflecting off their fur as they close in.

I realize, with a jolt of fear and adrenaline, that there's no easy way out of this...