The dawn broke heavy with heat, the storm clouds lingering like bruises across the horizon. Selene moved through the corridors of Blackmoor Keep with purpose, the moonstone pendant warm against her chest, a pulse she could feel even in daylight.
Three days had passed. Tomorrow's ceremony of choice loomed closer than ever, yet Selene felt further from an answer. Instead, she was swept into a tide of politics, paranoia, and pain.
She entered the council chamber—now a war room—where Daxon was already waiting, arms folded, eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights.
"Selene," he greeted, voice low but steady. "We have news."
Behind him, guards stood at attention. At the far end, Alpha Garet and several council members whispered urgently.
"What is it?" she asked, stepping forward.
Daxon exchanged a glance with Vaughn before speaking. "There's been an incident in the northern quarter. One of the Summit's security teams was found dead—poisoned."
Selene's stomach dropped. "Another guard?"
"This time… it was one of your personal guards. The one I assigned to keep watch over you."
Her breath caught. She had grown attached—trained with, laughed with, confided in him. He had been her silent protector, and now he was gone.
"Who?" she whispered.
"His name was Bram," Daxon said. "He was loyal… and he saved your life twice."
Selene closed her eyes, fighting tears. "Who would do this?"
"Someone who wants you broken," Vaughn said, stepping forward. "Someone on the inside."
Murmurs rose. Selene's pulse hammered in her ears.
"A traitor," she breathed. "In this castle?"
Vaughn nodded gravely. "We have our suspicions but we need you to remain vigilant—and to trust no one completely."
She swallowed. "Even the council?"
"Especially the council," Daxon said softly. "They see your independence as a threat. Some want to kill you tonight."
Selene's skin prickled with fear. Then anger. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: Be the storm. She would not cower.
"Give me their names," she said, voice clear.
Vaughn hesitated—then recited five names: four Alphas' Betas and one council advisor. Selene recognized them all. Then her eyes widened. She realized one name was missing.
"Cian?" she asked, breath catching.
Daxon's gaze flicked to her. "He's been elsewhere."
Selene's heart twisted. "He wasn't here when Bram died?"
"No," Vaughn confirmed. "He left before dawn and hasn't returned."
Fear and betrayal laced her chest. Cian… was he involved? Or was he the next target?
She left the chamber without another word, heading to the training yard. The sun glinted off the grass, mocking her darkness.
Cian stood alone in the sandpit, practicing his strikes on a wooden dummy—precise, controlled, but with a brutality that spoke of rage.
Selene stepped into the ring. He froze mid-strike, then lowered his arms.
"I heard," she said, voice tight.
Cian wiped sweat from his brow. "Bram… I heard. I'm sorry."
He meant it—but his concern felt distant. She scrutinized him.
"Where were you?" she asked, stepping closer. "Why didn't anyone come after me until he was dead?"
He frowned. "You know why. I went to rally Ashclaw allies. You asked me to wait."
"You left me alone," she whispered. "When I needed you most."
His jaw tightened. "I protected you in every way I could."
"Clearly not," she shot back.
He took a step forward, eyes fierce. "Stop this. I would never betray you."
Selene's wolf snarled in her mind. "Then prove it. Stay. Guard me tonight. Don't leave—no matter what."
Cian hesitated, pain flickering in his gaze. Then he nodded. "I won't leave you again."
As twilight fell, Selene prepared herself. The ceremony hall was being readied for one final confrontation: her speech followed by the Council's ultimatums. But first, she needed to root out the traitor.
She gathered the names Vaughn had given her and, with Daxon's silent support, set traps: hidden wards around her chambers, poison-detecting herbs by the door, and a discreet signal—three knocks—calling both Alphas if she felt threatened.
Night deepened. The Keep's corridors stretched out before her like a labyrinth. She glided through shadows, her silver gown whispering over stone.
She reached the northern quarter—where Bram had fallen. The air there was colder, heavier. She knelt by the bloodstained floor, eyes scanning for clues. Abruptly, a shape lunged from the darkness.
Selene gasped—but it wasn't a rogue. It was a robed figure, mask glinting in torchlight, dagger raised.
Her reflexes kicked in. She dodged—heart racing—toward a suit of armor nearby and hurled it at her attacker. The metal clang echoed. The figure staggered, dagger clattering to the ground.
Selene grabbed the hilt and yanked off the mask—revealing a Beta she'd trusted, eyes wild with fear and hatred.
"Why?" she demanded, voice cracking.
The Beta spat blood and sweat. "You… you defy the law. You disgrace us all."
"Bram was your friend," Selene said, chanting the ward Daxon taught her. A faint glow surrounded them. The Beta staggered back, eyes wide.
"He was a fool," the traitor hissed. "Just like you."
Selene advanced. "This ends tonight." She pressed her pendant against the Beta's chest. The moonstone flared—bright as dawn—burning through the darkness until the Beta collapsed, unconscious but alive.
Selene turned as footsteps thundered behind her.
Daxon and Cian both emerged—silent, fierce, united.
"You did well," Daxon said, voice proud. "But it's not over."
Cian knelt beside the traitor, lifting the limp body. "Who else is involved?"
The Beta moaned. Vaughn's voice came from the stairs. "Interrogate. Then bind. We need names."
Selene exhaled, exhaustion and triumph mingling. She had faced betrayal and survived. But her mind raced with questions: Was the conspiracy deeper? Who had sent the rogues? Who pulled the strings?
Back in her chamber, the candlelight flickered as Selene poured over Bram's satchel—maps, coded letters, and a drawing: a sigil combining two pack crests entwined around hers.
She traced the lines with her finger. It wasn't just politics. It was personal.
A quiet knock.
Daxon entered first, then Cian, standing on either side of her desk.
"We came to keep watch," Cian said simply.
Selene gestured at the satchel. "The betrayal runs deeper than Bram's death. Someone wants me—and my power."
Daxon placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then we fight them."
Selene looked at each Alpha in turn—vigilant fire in Daxon's gaze, protective heat in Cian's.
"I won't pick a mate tomorrow," she said softly. "But I will pick my battles."
They nodded. No words were needed.
Cian leaned forward, pressing a hand to her cheek. "And I will fight for you—always."
Daxon's voice trembled, rare and honest: "Me too."
That night, Selene lay awake, listening to the wind. Power hummed through her veins—fate, fury, freedom.
She thought of her mother's letter. Of prophecy and warning.
She thought of Bram's loyalty.
She thought of Daxon's confession.
She thought of Cian's promise.
Tomorrow, she would stand before the Summit again—stronger, unbroken, and more dangerous than ever.
And no traitor, no council, no god would sway her.
She would be the storm.