Chapter 3 Ch.3

Later that morning, Oliver stood at the small cracked basin near the hearth, her hands trembling slightly as she rinsed blood from her knuckles. Cold water stung her raw skin, pink swirls circling the rusted drain.

The pain didn't bother her. It was the silence that did.

Kade had gone to scout the surrounding woods, claiming he'd heard unusual movement beyond the north ridge. "Could be rogues," he'd said. "Could be spies." She knew better than to dismiss either. Emberfang's reach was long-and Astrid's methods weren't always visible.

Alone again, Oliver stared into the mirror above the basin. Her reflection stared back, ghostlike. Hair damp with sweat, eyes rimmed red, lips cracked and pale.

Not the Luna they remembered.

But something far more dangerous.

She reached for the salve she'd made the night before and applied it to the bruises forming across her collarbone. Her fingers paused when they brushed the small scar just above her right breast-Jason's mark. Not a true mating mark, but close enough. A symbol of possession. Of promises.

It was fading.

And it needed to go.

She found her knife-Kade's old hunting blade-and walked back into the clearing. She didn't hesitate. She pressed the cold tip against the mark and exhaled.

"This was a lie," she whispered. "You don't get to leave scars on me."

With one clean stroke, she cut through the symbol. Blood welled. Her breath hitched, but she didn't cry out. The pain was nothing compared to what lived inside her chest.

She wiped the blade clean, wrapped the wound tightly, and dropped the bloodstained scrap of fabric into the fire.

It curled and sizzled, smoke rising like an omen.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Didn't think you had the guts."

She turned sharply-Kade was back, his boots crunching on frostbitten grass, eyes glinting with approval.

"What did you find?" she asked, tying her hair into a loose braid with one hand.

"A trail," he said. "Recent. Two wolves. Not local. Probably scouts."

"Emberfang?"

"Maybe. But..." He crouched and pulled something from his coat. A torn strip of cloth. "Smelled more like Blackwood than Emberfang."

Oliver stiffened. "Astrid's family?"

He nodded. "She's not just playing Queen. She's laying claim to territory."

The implications settled like ash on her shoulders.

"I need to move fast," she muttered. "Faster than I thought."

"You won't be ready in a week, Ollie."

"I won't be ready in a year," she snapped. "But time isn't a luxury anymore."

She paced toward the cabin, emotions boiling. "She's marking lines before she even has a crown. That means Jason's letting her."

Kade leaned against a tree, watching her. "You going to kill him?"

The question hung in the air.

Oliver didn't answer right away.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I want to. But... part of me still wants him to look at me and realize what he lost. Not because I need his love, but because he doesn't deserve to walk away clean."

Kade's smile was cold. "Then don't kill him. Break him."

She turned toward him. "I need a pack."

He pushed off the tree. "I might know where to start."

"Where?"

"There's a rogue clan near Ironroot Ridge. Savage but loyal if you prove yourself. Their leader-Ronan-owes me a favor."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"

"The kind that involved bailing his sorry ass out of a blood debt to a vampire prince."

She blinked. "What?"

"Long story. I'll tell you over drinks someday."

She gave a tight smile. "When can we leave?"

"Now."

She didn't pack much-just her blades, her salves, the old notebook Elias had given her, and the silver wolf pendant she'd tucked away the day Jason came back with Astrid.

As she slipped it into her pocket, her heart thudded, remembering the way Jason used to press his lips against it like a vow.

You'll always be mine.

She clenched her jaw. Never again.

They moved through the forest quickly, their wolf instincts guiding their footsteps, senses on alert. The trees grew darker the farther north they traveled. Crows gathered overhead. The air thickened with tension, heavy with the scent of magic and moss and old blood.

By dusk, they reached the base of Ironroot Ridge.

And they weren't alone.

"Hold," Kade said, motioning with two fingers.

Oliver stopped.

Five wolves stepped from the trees, each armed, each wearing scraps of armor and torn cloaks. One woman with dark braids and a scar down her cheek raised a blade.

"No one passes through without Ronan's blessing," she said.

Kade stepped forward. "Tell Ronan his debt just came due."

The woman studied him. Then slowly nodded. "Follow me."

Oliver didn't speak as they were led through the thicket toward a half-buried den carved into the rockface. It was lit by blue fire and warded with old symbols scratched into the stone.

Inside, the air smelled of ash and iron.

Ronan sat on a throne of twisted branches, shirtless, scars like war paint crisscrossing his chest. His eyes flicked to Kade. Then to Oliver.

"Well, shit," he said. "You didn't say the debt involved bringing me her."

"Do you know who I am?" Oliver asked coolly.

He grinned. "I know who you were."

"I'm not here for mockery. I'm here for strength."

Ronan tilted his head. "And what do I get?"

"I have intel on the Emberfang Pack. Border weakness. Supply routes. Patrol blind spots."

He leaned forward, interest sparking. "And?"

"I'm going to bring down Astrid Blackwood. From the inside out."

That got his attention.

He stood slowly, stepping down from his throne, eyes locked on her.

"You're not the same girl they whispered about. The broken Luna."

"No," she said. "She died."

Ronan's smile widened. "Good. Broken things are boring. But vengeful things? Those are interesting."

She didn't blink. "Help me rebuild. Train me. And when the time comes, you'll have a claim to territory the Blackwoods are trying to steal from you."

He paused. Then nodded once.

"You've got a deal, Thorn."

Kade muttered, "That was easier than I expected."

Ronan grinned. "Oh, it's not going to be easy. If she wants my help, she trains with my warriors. She bleeds with them. And if she can't keep up, she walks away empty."

"I won't walk," Oliver said.

"Prove it."

He tossed her a blade.

She caught it, steel gleaming in the firelight.

In the den of wolves, with nothing left to lose, Oliver stepped forward.

And for the first time in weeks, she felt something burn inside her.

Not pain.

Not grief.

Power.