Ronan stood still, the echo of Lilith's parting words settling over him like a thick fog.
"There are others watching you, Blackwood."
She had left as suddenly as she arrived, but the lingering presence of her magic still clung to the shadows, warping the edges of the ruined outpost.
Selene rubbed her wrist where the shadows had bound her, scowling toward the place Lilith had disappeared. "That girl is a problem."
Kael chuckled. "A problem? I'd call her a walking catastrophe. I like her already."
Astrid, who had been frozen in place since Lilith's arrival, finally stirred. Her golden eyes met Ronan's, searching, pleading. "Ronan—"
"Don't."
His voice was sharper than he intended, but the moment she had said his name, the mate bond flared hot in his chest, and he hated it.
Astrid hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I know you don't trust me."
"I don't," Ronan said flatly.
"But you need to listen to me," she pressed. "Darius knows you're alive. And he's already making his next move."
That got his attention.
Selene's grip tightened on her dagger. "And how exactly do you know that?"
Astrid hesitated for a fraction of a second.
And that was all Ronan needed.
"You're still working with him," he said coldly.
Astrid's breath hitched, but she didn't back down. "I've been keeping tabs on him. He's not just running the Silverfang Pack anymore, Ronan. He's made alliances—dangerous ones."
Ronan didn't flinch, but the words still burned.
The pack that was once his. The wolves that were supposed to follow him.
Now under the control of the man who had betrayed him.
"And why," Ronan asked slowly, "should I believe anything you say?"
Astrid stepped forward. "Because I didn't come here to beg for forgiveness," she said, voice steady. "I came here to help you take back what's yours."
...
Silvercrest Academy was never truly quiet at night.
Even as the moon hung high in the sky, the academy's underground halls pulsed with movement—secrets exchanged in whispers, duels fought in dimly lit corridors, alliances forged and broken with blood.
And at the heart of it all, sitting on the black marble throne that had once belonged to Ronan, was Darius Graves.
His broad frame was relaxed, one hand resting against the carved wolf insignia at the throne's armrest. His throne now.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he stared at the letter in his hand.
A scout's report.
"Ronan Blackwood is alive."
Darius crushed the parchment, his jaw tightening.
Of course, he had suspected it. There had been whispers, sightings. A ghost lurking in the shadows of Silvercrest.
But now?
Now it was confirmed.
The room was silent except for the flickering torches lining the stone walls. Then—
"I expected better from you, Graves."
Darius didn't move as a figure stepped out of the shadows—a girl wrapped in a cloak of midnight, violet eyes glinting with amusement.
Lilith.
"You seem… tense," she purred. "Are you not happy to hear that your old friend has returned?"
Darius exhaled through his nose. "What do you want, Lilith?"
Lilith's smirk widened. "Now, now. That's no way to treat a potential ally."
Darius finally looked at her, his golden eyes burning. "You work alone. You don't do alliances."
Lilith stepped forward, lowering herself onto the edge of a marble table. "True," she admitted. "But sometimes, interests align."
Darius studied her, silent.
Lilith's smirk turned sharper. "You want to crush Ronan Blackwood."
Darius's grip on the armrest tightened.
Lilith leaned in. "And I… want to see what happens when he stops holding back."
...
Back at the outpost, Ronan's fingers twitched at his side.
Astrid's words hung heavy between them.
"I came here to help you take back what's yours."
Selene still looked unconvinced. "You expect us to believe you suddenly grew a conscience?"
Astrid's expression hardened. "Believe what you want. But I know Darius better than anyone. He's not just sitting on his stolen throne. He's building an empire."
Ronan's chest burned.
"He already controls Silverfang," Astrid continued. "But he's not stopping there. He's making deals with vampires, witches—hell, even some of the demons are sniffing around his power."
Kael raised a brow. "Demons? Sounds like overkill."
Astrid shook her head. "He's preparing for something. Something big. And if you don't move first, you won't get a second chance."
Ronan studied her carefully.
She was still his fated mate. The bond between them still existed, pulling at him, demanding to be acknowledged.
But bonds could be broken.
And trust wasn't something easily restored.
"You want me to believe you?" Ronan finally said. "Prove it."
Astrid met his gaze without hesitation.
"Tell me what Darius is planning," he continued. "Give me something real."
Astrid didn't blink.
"He's meeting someone tonight," she said. "A vampire lord from the eastern clans. They're negotiating a blood pact."
Ronan frowned. "A blood pact?"
"A contract," Selene muttered. "A deal that can't be broken without severe consequences."
Astrid nodded. "It's happening in one of the old catacombs beneath Silvercrest. If you go there now, you can stop it."
Ronan turned toward Kael. "You up for a little fun?"
Kael grinned. "Always."
Selene crossed her arms. "We don't even know if she's telling the truth."
Ronan tilted his head slightly. "Then we'll find out."
He turned back to Astrid.
"You're coming with us," he said.
Astrid didn't even flinch. "I was planning on it."
For a moment, they simply stared at each other—wolf and wolf, mate and mate, enemies and something more dangerous.
Then Ronan exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"Let's move."
Because whether Astrid was lying or not—
Tonight, someone was going to bleed.
...
Beneath Silvercrest Academy, the tunnels stretched endlessly, carved from black stone and reinforced by ancient magic.
Darius walked through the dimly lit halls, the soft glow of rune-marked torches casting shadows against the walls.
Ahead of him, a tall figure waited—his eyes gleaming red beneath his hood.
The vampire lord.
Darius stepped forward, extending his hand.
"Shall we begin?"
The vampire smiled, revealing razor-sharp fangs.
And far above them, slipping through the shadows—
Ronan Blackwood was coming.