The words carved into the dead elder's chest echoed louder than the gasps around them.
"She belongs to no one."
Selene's breath locked in her throat.
The letters were jagged. Raw. Still oozing.
She didn't recognize the scent but the claw marks, the angle, the curve of the letters…
It looked like hers. Like her wolf had done it.
But that was impossible. She hadn't shifted in days. Had she?
Darius stepped forward slowly. "Speak now, Selene."
"I didn't do this," she said, voice sharp. "I swear—"
"Then who did?" His eyes were darker than usual. Not anger. Calculation.
"I don't know."
He glanced at the blood. "The guards saw nothing. The cameras glitched for six minutes. This was done by someone who knows our systems."
A warning bell rang in her head.
"You're saying it was an inside job."
"I'm saying," he said flatly, "either you've lost control of your wolf, or someone wants the pack to think you have."
She flinched. Because part of her, the part with claws and fury and moonlight in its veins, wanted it to be her.
Because it meant she wasn't powerless anymore.
Later, in her quarters, Selene paced.
The walls felt tighter than usual. The collar heavier.
Thessara sat by the window, eyes darting between Selene and the door.
"Someone is framing you," she said softly. "This is political."
"It's personal," Selene muttered. "Darius is testing me again. Just like with Elian."
But no. This didn't feel like him.
This wasn't a test.
This was a warning.
She stared at her reflection in the glass—half-shadow, half-light.
And for a second… she saw something move behind her.
A flicker of silver eyes.
She spun. Nothing.
That night, the nightmares came.
Her hands were soaked in blood.
She stood in the middle of a battlefield littered with wolves some alive, some barely breathing.
She was laughing.
And across from her stood Darius, sword raised, chest heaving.
"You were supposed to be my weapon," he said.
She stepped over bodies toward him.
"I was never yours."
Then her claws slashed across his throat—and the dream shattered.
Selene woke up choking on air.
The sheets were soaked. Her nails were longer. Her eyes burned with a silver glow.
She rushed to the mirror—and froze.
There were scratches on her arm.
Claw marks. Fresh.
She'd shifted. In her sleep.
Or something had worn her body like a coat.
By morning, the estate was buzzing.
Another elder was dead.
This one wasn't marked with a message—but part of his heart had been eaten.
Selene felt her stomach twist.
She hadn't left her room all night.
But the guards looked at her differently now.
Not with contempt.
With fear.
Darius summoned her to the war room.
When she entered, he was already standing over a map, four council members behind him. Cold. Wary.
He didn't greet her. "You're being watched."
"I noticed."
"You're not being accused—yet. But keep this up, and even I won't be able to shield you."
Selene crossed her arms. "Why would you want to shield me? I'm just the Syndicate's dog, right?"
He looked up.
And for the first time… she saw it.
Doubt.
"You're not supposed to be like her," he said. "You weren't supposed to be this strong."
Her breath hitched. "You're afraid of me."
"No," he said softly. "I'm afraid of what you'll do once you stop being afraid of me."
Then he turned to the council. "Give her space. Surveillance only. No chains unless she shifts without permission."
"You're giving her freedom?" one snapped.
"I'm giving her rope," Darius replied. "Let's see if she hangs herself."
Back in her room, Selene found Thessara waiting.
"I thought you should know," the maid whispered, eyes wide. "The elder who died last night… he ordered your mother's execution."
Selene's blood froze.
"He was the one who gave the command," Thessara added. "It was never Darius. He only enforced it."
Selene sat down, numb.
Pieces were falling into place. But they were the wrong pieces.
And in her chest, the Moonblood mark pulsed harder than ever.
Something inside her was waking up.
And it wasn't human.