The moon hung high in the sky, bathing the clearing in a silver glow that cast long, flickering shadows across the camp. The fire had died down to embers, and most of the pack had retreated into their tents, lulled by the silence of a rare peaceful night.
But Claire couldn't sleep.
She sat by the firepit, knees drawn to her chest, staring into the fading glow. Her thoughts were restless, swirling with uncertainty. Though the pack had begun to reconnect, a storm still brewed beneath the surface. She could feel it—like a whisper in her bones. Healing had begun, but something was out of balance. Something unseen.
A twig snapped behind her.
She didn't flinch. "You walk too loudly to sneak up on me."
Lucian stepped into the light, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "And you're too stubborn to rest when you're clearly exhausted."
Claire smiled faintly but didn't turn. "Couldn't sleep. Mind won't shut off."
He lowered himself to the ground beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, listening to the wind rustling through the trees.
Lucian broke the quiet first. "I spoke with Ronan and Jace earlier. Cleared things up between them."
"That's good," Claire said softly. "We can't afford to have any more division. Not now."
"No," Lucian agreed. "Not when the scent of blood still lingers."
Claire turned to look at him. His eyes were dark and distant, like they were watching something far away—something she couldn't see.
"What is it?" she asked.
Lucian hesitated, then finally said, "There's something wrong. I can feel it. The battle with Varrick… it was too clean. Too calculated. He could've sent more. He had more. And yet, he came himself, leading the charge. Like it was meant to end there."
Claire's stomach tightened. "You think it was a distraction?"
"I think it was a sacrifice," he said grimly. "A way to pass the crown to someone else without appearing weak."
Claire's mind raced. "But who? Who would Varrick trust to carry his legacy?"
Lucian's jaw tightened. "His daughter."
The words fell like stones in her chest.
"Daughter?" Claire echoed. "You never mentioned—"
"I didn't think she was still alive," Lucian admitted. "Varrick kept her hidden from everyone. Even from the Council. I only saw her once, years ago. She couldn't have been older than ten, but even then... she was different. Cold. Calculating. Varrick said she would inherit his empire. I thought it was just talk. But now…"
Claire's blood ran cold. "If she's anything like him…"
"She's worse," Lucian said quietly. "Varrick wanted power. But she wants control. The kind that twists loyalty into obedience."
Claire's thoughts raced. "We need to prepare the pack."
Lucian nodded slowly. "But without causing panic. They're just beginning to find hope again. We need to be smart."
Just then, the wind shifted. Both of them stiffened.
Lucian stood instantly, his eyes flashing amber. Claire rose too, already sensing what he had—something had changed. The night no longer felt calm. The air carried an unfamiliar scent—burnt pine and blood.
And death.
A scream pierced the night.
Lucian and Claire sprinted toward the sound, racing through tents and startled packmates, until they reached the edge of the camp. A group had already gathered. At the center lay a body.
Claire's heart twisted. It was Thorne—one of their best scouts. His throat had been torn out, eyes wide in terror, and claw marks marred his chest. Beside him was a symbol etched into the dirt with blood. A crescent moon with a dagger piercing through it.
Claire's breath caught. "What is that?"
Lucian knelt, examining the symbol. His eyes darkened. "It's her mark."
"You're sure?"
Lucian stood, his face pale beneath the moonlight. "I'd hoped I'd never see it again. But yes. It's her. Selene."
The name hit the camp like a thunderclap. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Fear crept in again, undoing the fragile threads Claire had helped weave just the night before.
"We need to keep calm," Lucian said, raising his voice. "Whoever did this wanted us to panic. To lose our footing."
Calla stepped forward, her face pale. "But if she's watching us already—if she's here…"
"She's testing us," Claire said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Marking her territory. This isn't war—this is a warning."
Lucian gave a sharp nod. "Double the night patrols. No one leaves camp alone. And if anyone sees that symbol again, report it immediately."
The pack began to disperse, some shaken, others angry, but all alert. Claire lingered beside Thorne's body as it was covered and taken away. He had survived the battle, only to fall in peace. If it could even be called that.
"Why now?" she whispered. "Why strike when everything's just beginning to settle?"
Lucian's voice was a low growl. "Because Selene doesn't want peace. She wants dominance. And she's not here to claim her father's throne."
Claire looked up at him. "Then what does she want?"
Lucian met her gaze, and for the first time in a long while, she saw fear in his eyes.
"She wants to build an empire of her own. And she wants to do it by crushing anyone who defied her father."
Claire's stomach churned. That meant one thing: they were her first target.
Later that night, as the camp quieted again under high alert, Lucian called a private meeting with the inner circle—Calla, Jace, Ronan, and Claire. They gathered in the central tent, grim and tense.
"We can't stay here," Lucian began. "If Selene's already this close, it's only a matter of time before she attacks. We need higher ground. Better defense. A location we can fortify."
"There's the old stronghold," Ronan said. "The one north of the river. It's abandoned but still standing."
Lucian nodded. "We'll scout it tomorrow at first light. If it's viable, we move by the end of the week."
"What if she follows us?" Jace asked.
"She will," Lucian replied. "But we'll be ready."
They talked for hours, planning, debating, until only Claire and Lucian remained. The weight of leadership sat heavily on his shoulders. She could see it in the slump of his posture, the tight set of his jaw.
"You're carrying too much," she said gently.
"I don't have a choice."
"Yes, you do," she said. "You have us. You have me."
Lucian looked at her, something raw in his expression. "I'm afraid, Claire. Not for me. For all of you. For what she'll bring."
Claire stepped closer, placed her hand over his heart. "We've survived worse. And as long as we stand together, she won't win."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly in the moonlit silence.
Outside, the forest whispered of danger.
But inside the circle of their bond, there was still strength.
Still hope.
Still love.