Eight years ago, my brother poured Moonshade into my wine so the Heir Alpha could mark my sister at the bonding ceremony instead of me. I woke up tied to a rogue, broke his nose, and ran. I’m a wreck ，mud on my cheek, eight feral pups tearing around my legs, jerky between my teeth. “Little Wren —” Rowan’s eyes go red. “You hated pups. You were going to be the first female Beta on the Lycan King’s Council. What happened to you?” I keep chewing. Bend down. Yank two muddy little cubs out of the puddle. I whistle for the rest. Inside, pups. “Wren — sweetie —” Serena steps in front of me, tears already brimming. “It was Rowan who talked Father and Mother into the Moonshade. It was Damien who switched us at the bonding ceremony.” Damien Blackthorn just stands there holding her hand. Calm. Waiting for me to scream. Rowan’s voice goes flat. “The rogue was ugly, sure. But he took Serena in when she was lost in the wild. Treated her decent. You only had it bad for a little while, Wren. Don’t make a scene.” Eight years ago, Serena padded back to Silvercrest claiming to be the real Beta-blood. I shut her out at the territory line. That was my crime. These eight years were the lesson. “The rogue’s dead now, Wren. We came to bring you home.” Serena’s eyes drop to the pups. Her nose wrinkles. “But these mongrels are filthy. Low-blood. We can’t bring them. If they’ve been such a burden, let’s just put them down.” My head snaps up. Put them down? The girl swinging from the rafter is the Grand Gamma’s daughter. The brunette baring tiny milk-fangs is Alpha Harlan’s pup. The two boys tossing bone dice are Lycan princes from the Ironvale Kingdom. … “You’ll finally be free of them, Wren — aren’t you happy?” She dabs her eyes and beams. Her warriors fan out in a tight ring. Steel hisses out of every sheath. I scoop the smallest pup against my chest. This one cannot get a scratch. Alpha Calder’s bloodline has whelped one heir every five generations. The whole Calder pack would burn this kingdom for her. “What — you don’t want them dead?” Damien’s voice drops, Alpha Aura rolling off him in waves. “Wren Ashford. You really planning to drag eight stray mutts back into Silvercrest with you, into my wing of the pack house?” I clamp a hand over Alpha Harlan’s daughter’s mouth fast. Tiny demon’s got the sharpest tongue in three packs. “Are you embarrassed, Wren? Don’t be. Damien doesn’t mind that you’ve been touched by a rogue. He’ll still take you into his wing when we get home.” Like she’s offering me a Luna’s crown. It’s a leash. “I’m not coming back.” They all freeze. Rowan’s lip curls. “Eight years and that’s how you snarl at her? Forget every rule the Ashford pack ever drilled into you?” I forgot more than the rules. I forgot the snowy night Rowan walked Serena home with his arm around her, leaving me bleeding in the courtyard. Forgot Serena grinding my mate token under her heel while Damien watched, unflinching. Eight years is enough to bury all of it. “Move, Wren. Don’t tell me you got so attached to that rogue mutt you’ve been mourning him these eight years like a widow.” Damien smiles — cruel. Eyes dragging over the pups like vermin. “They’re not mine. You can’t touch them. You can’t afford to touch them.” A Heir Alpha. So what. The pups don’t even glance at him. “You’d disown your own litter to protect them?” Damien sneers. Fangs drop, claws extend mid-shift — and he lunges, claws driving straight at the smallest pup. “I can’t afford to?” My heart stops. I throw my arm out to block — Rowan’s hand cracks across my face so hard my wolf yelps inside my skull. “I thought a rogue forced a litter into you! Now I see you rolled over for him willingly — you disgrace every wolf carrying the Ashford scent!” Every pup in the clearing freezes. Blood roars in my ears. One slow breath. My heart sinks like a stone. “Damien. Breathe him in. Just one breath.” Little Eight wasn’t fast enough. Blood drips down his arm into the dirt — and the second the iron tang hits the air, every wolf flinches at once. Pure Lycan blood. Royal. Ancient. He buries his face against my neck. I tug his collar back and bare his shoulder. “No, look. Take a good look.” The crescent-and-fang birthmark of the Lycan bloodline burns silver against his skin. The mark only the Lycan King’s direct kin carry. Serena’s eyes go round as moons. But Damien’s claws stay raised, fangs still bared. “The Lycan King has no nephew.” “You can’t even scent pure Lycan blood when it’s bleeding right in front of you?!” Harlan’s daughter wrenches free, untrained Alpha aura crackling around her in a furious silver halo. “My father is Alpha Harlan! Lay a paw on us and my dad’s whole pack will tear Silvercrest apart before sunrise!” This time, Serena slaps her clean across the face. The borderlands go silent. Even the wind dies. Striking the daughter of an Alpha is a declaration of war. Serena lifts her chin. Smiles. “Are these all the little props you’ve prepared, Wren?”
I rip a strip off my sleeve, press it hard against Little Eight’s bleeding arm. “Serena. You just spilled pure Lycan blood. That’s a death sentence.” Rowan barely glances at me. “Lycan blood? Little Wren — your acting’s getting sloppy.” Serena lifts her chin like she just won a war. Loops her arm through Damien’s. Smug. Triumphant. I lock eyes with him across the clearing. Look at me. Really look at me. For one long second, he doesn’t blink. Then his face goes blank. “Wren. You’ve learned to lie.” I almost had him. Serena bites her lip — the fake, wounded little pout she’s spent eight years perfecting. “If word reaches the Lycan King, every wolf carrying the Ashford scent gets put down. Every single one. And she’d still do it — that’s how much she hates me.” Rowan and Damien’s brows snap together at once. “I’m right here. Don’t be scared.” Damien’s arm wraps around her, lips brushing her forehead. Soft. Tender. Sickening. Rowan’s rage finally cracks. “Eight years and you still haven’t learned? What do you want from us, Wren? Serena’s the real Ashford blood — you’re not. You don’t get to fight her. You don’t even get the right to resent her.” The words land like blades. Straight through the ribs. A tiny warm hand wraps around my freezing fingers. “They were rotten to you. Every wolf in three packs knows it.” Alpha Harlan’s daughter. My tiny demon. My tiny mercy. I force a smile down at her, then pull my face cold again. “Fifteen more minutes. Then you’ll know if I’m lying.” Fifteen minutes. That’s when the pup-runners come — pack escorts collecting their precious little charges. The same hour I usually kick off my boots and head home empty-handed. “Are you done stalling?!” Rowan’s hackles are up, fury bleeding red into his eyes. Serena slides forward, sweet as ever. “The Ashford pack can feed eight more mouths. If Wren wants to keep these strays alive… fine. Keep them.” Damien’s face flickers — annoyed. But he sighs, looking down at her with all the tender Heir Alpha softness in the world. “Whatever you want, Serena. I’m with you.” That settles Rowan too. I crush Little Eight tighter against me until my knuckles go white. “We’ll call them orphan strays. Beggar pups.” Serena smiles, gentle as poisoned milk. “But Wren — sweetie — you’re going into Damien’s wing of the Silvercrest pack house. You can’t stay tangled up with mongrels. Not one paw out of line.” She drifts close. Slow. Lazy. Eyes glittering with something ugly. “So just so you remember — every little life you save, we carve one cut into you.” The pups close ranks around me before her words even finish. “You three — enough!” “Wren is brilliant! Even my royal Lycan father praises her! This is how Silvercrest treats her?! I’m telling my father the second I get home — she’s coming back with me! No one gets to bully her!” “My mama’s still waiting for Wren to teach her the harp! Don’t you dare hurt her!” “Got the guts to wait fifteen minutes?! You’re using us to threaten her?! Cowards! When my dad gets here, none of you will have a paw left to stand on!” In a heartbeat, every one of them is pinned. Mouths gagged. Knees forced into the dirt. And then — Fifteen minutes hits. “Lady Wren!” A pack warrior bursts out of the treeline still half-shifted, fur and fangs receding mid-stride, eyes blown wide with fury. “Stand down! Who are you people?!” I look past his shoulder. No one else. My stomach drops. “You came alone?” His voice goes rough. Guarded. “Rogues are causing chaos at the borders. Alpha Calder ran out with the rest of the pack. He’s not back yet.” Rogues at the borders. Which means the Ironvale escort coming for the two Lycan princes can’t get through either. “Stop pretending.” Damien’s eyes are dark — something ugly and complicated churning in them. His voice drops, scrapes raw at the edges. “Wren. The rogue’s whelps — you love them that much? You’d bleed out for them? Move heaven and earth?”
The smile freezes on Serena’s lips. Her nails dig into Damien’s hand. He doesn’t react. She shoots me a glare — then her free hand flies to her mouth and she gasps at Garrick. “Boyd?! You’re supposed to be dead! No wonder Wren wouldn’t come home with us!” Damien’s eyes go bottomless cold. “Don’t stay here,” I snap at Garrick. “Ride for Alpha Calder. Or the Grand Gamma. Now.” Both of them wear the Lycan King’s personal mark on their shoulder. Every wolf in three kingdoms knows their scent on sight. Damien cannot mistake them for rogues. Garrick blinks. Turns to bolt — already shifting mid-stride to run for backup. Then Damien snaps. Before any of us can move, his fangs drop, his hand half-shifted into claws — and he lunges, slamming Garrick down before the shift can finish, claws driving straight for his throat. “Damien — stop! He’s a borderlands warrior!” He doesn’t hear me. Garrick rolls, dodging the first strike. But he’s outnumbered. Serena’s warriors swarm him — and a dozen blades sink into him at once. Hot blood sprays across my face. My mouth falls open. My mind goes white. “Don’t hurt him! He doesn’t deserve this!” Nobody believes me. They rip their swords back out. Garrick drops to one knee in the dirt, gritting through it. A warrior stomps his boot down on the back of Garrick’s neck and grinds his forehead into the ground. Damien withdraws his claws like he’s touched filth. “What borderlands warrior, Wren? He raised fangs at the Heir Alpha. He’s an assassin.” Serena’s smile blooms wider. The blade beside me lifts. Catches the cold light. “Better think fast, sweetie. These eight pups — you saving them, or not?” “I save them.” Eight cuts won’t kill me. These pups’ parents kept me alive these eight years. I owe them. The first four blades come down. Iron-thick blood floods the air. Every wolf in the clearing flinches. Rowan rips a sword from a warrior’s hand, veins bulging at his temple. “Wren! You’re STILL going to save them?!” Somewhere behind me, a tiny pup chokes on a sob. I’m drenched in cold sweat. Twitching. “I save them. And I’m not coming back.” Rowan snaps. Four more blades carve down across me. His voice is cold as winter iron. “That’s not your call. You haven’t paid what you owe Serena. You haven’t paid what you owe the Ashford line.” I swallow the scream. Plant my hands in the dirt. Slowly — slowly — push myself upright. My wolf is whimpering somewhere far away. Drowned under the pain. Serena watches and glows. “Rowan — look at her. Gods, she’s bleeding everywhere. She’s… she’s carrying a litter, isn’t she? Bringing a pregnant belly back home? What would Mother say? Oh, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.” I look down, dazed. It’s Little Eight’s blood. Pooled on my lap from where I’ve been clutching him. Damien’s head whips around. Two words grind out between his fangs. “Get rid of it.” The warriors seize my arms, wrench them behind me, drag me back — force my stomach exposed. A fist slams into me with the full weight of Heir Alpha strength. I choke on a muffled cry. Every organ inside me feels shifted out of place. Can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Can’t even shift — my wolf is too weak under the blood loss. “Lies — all of it — Lady Wren’s never been marked! Her neck is clean — where would a litter even come from?!” Garrick spits the words through a mouthful of blood, still defending me. Still. Serena slowly lays a hand on the neck of the pup nearest her. Her fingers curl. “I’m lying?” She catches the panic flaring in Garrick’s eyes and lets out a soft, mournful sigh. “If they’re not Wren’s pups… then why do you care so much, hmm?”
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