Chapter 7: The King’s Ultimatum

The war room of the Bloodmoon pack stank of testosterone and stale fear. Kane stood at the head of the oak table, his fingers white-knuckled around the back of a chair. The map before him was littered with black pins—every one marking a border incursion from the Silverfang Coalition.

His Beta, Marcus, cleared his throat. "Alpha, we can't keep stretching our patrols thin. The rogues are hitting our supply lines, and there are rumors—"

"I don't give a fuck about rumors." Kane's voice was a low growl, his wolf bristling beneath his skin. Ever since Willow had walked out of his life—out of his *pack*—seven weeks ago, he'd been a live wire. Every report of Silverfang activity made his claws itch. Every whisper of her name made his chest feel like it was caving in.

The door slammed open.

A scout stumbled in, blood streaking his temple. "Alpha! They're here. At the northern gate."

"Who?"

"The Silverfang King. Dante. He's got fifty warriors with him, and he's demanding an audience."

Kane's eyes flashed gold. "Let him in."

Dante Valerius didn't wait for an invitation. He strode into the war room like he owned it, his black leather duster trailing behind him like a shadow. He was taller than Kane remembered, broader, with eyes the color of molten silver and a smile that didn't reach them. Behind him, two guards flanked the door—but it was the woman who stepped in after him that made Kane's blood freeze.

Sophia.

She wore Silverfang colors now. Her hair was pulled back, her chin lifted, and she looked at Kane with the cold satisfaction of a predator who'd already won.

Dante stopped at the opposite end of the table, placing both hands flat on the map. His rings gleamed in the dim light. "Alpha Kane. How lovely of you to receive me on such short notice."

"What do you want, Valerius?"

"I want what's mine." Dante's voice dropped to a silken purr. "The traitor Sophia. She's been living under your protection for months, feeding you intel on my pack. You know this."

Kane's jaw tightened. "She's under my protection. That's all you need to know."

"Wrong." Dante's smile widened. "She's a spy, a thief, and a deserter. And I've been patient. I've allowed your little pack to play its games, to pretend you're a power to be reckoned with. But my patience has run its course."

He straightened, and the air in the room grew heavy with the scent of alpha dominance. Even Kane's own warriors shifted uncomfortably.

"Here is my demand," Dante said, his voice ringing off the stone walls. "You will deliver Sophia to me by moonrise tomorrow night. In exchange, I will withdraw my forces from your borders. We'll call it a strategic retreat. No blood on your hands."

"And if I refuse?"

Dante's smile vanished. "Then I will burn this pack to the ground. I will tear down your walls, kill your warriors, and take your territory by force. I'll raze your fields and salt your rivers. You won't just lose this war, Kane—you'll lose everything. Your pack, your people, your legacy."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Kane's wolf snarled in his chest, clawing against his ribs. He wanted to lunge across the table, to wrap his hands around Dante's throat and squeeze until that smug smile was nothing but a memory. But he held himself in check, because he knew—he *knew*—that Sophia was guilty.

She'd sold information to Silverfang, yes. But she'd also saved his life twice. She'd been a broken thing when he'd found her, hiding in the woods with a rogue mark on her neck and desperation in her eyes. He'd given her a second chance. And now Dante was asking him to throw her to the wolves.

"Sophia is my pack member," Kane said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

Dante laughed—a cold, mirthless sound. "Terrorist? No, Kane. I'm just a man who wants what's owed to him. You can call it whatever you want." He turned to Sophia, who hadn't moved an inch. "Enjoy your last night of freedom, little bird. Tomorrow, you're coming home."

He swept out of the room with his entourage, leaving Kane behind with the echo of his threat hanging in the air.

The moment the doors closed, Kane's fist slammed into the table, splitting the wood with a cracking sound that made his warriors flinch. "Get her out of here," he snarled. "Now. Take Sophia to the eastern safehouse. No one speaks of this to anyone."

"Kane—" Marcus started.

"I said *now*."

The room emptied in a flurry of motion. Kane stood alone, staring at the shattered table, his breathing ragged. His chest ached with a familiar emptiness—the same hollowed-out feeling he'd had ever since Willow left. And now this. Another weight pressing down on his shoulders.

A soft footstep behind him made him turn.

Sophia stood in the doorway, her face pale but composed. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?"

"Refused him. You know what he's capable of. You should've handed me over."

Kane's eyes narrowed. "You're my responsibility. I don't abandon my people."

"Even when they don't deserve your loyalty?" She smiled—a sad, knowing smile. "I've done terrible things, Kane. Things you don't know about. Maybe it's time I paid for them."

"Get to the safehouse. That's an order."

Sophia held his gaze for a long moment. Then she turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Kane alone with his thoughts and the growing certainty that he'd just made a deal with the devil he couldn't win.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over a contact he'd avoided for weeks. Willow's face stared back at him—that photo of her laughing in the meadow, taken before everything went to hell.

He pressed call.

The line rang once. Twice. Then a robotic voice: *"The number you have reached is no longer in service."*

Kane's fist tightened around the phone until the screen cracked.

In the distance, a howl split the night—not his pack's call. Not Silverfang's either. Something else. Something wrong.

His wolf went rigid with alert as another howl joined it. And another. A chorus of them, rising from the dark tree line surrounding his pack lands.

And then, just before the sounds faded, he heard it. A voice—sweet as honey, sharp as a blade—whispering from the shadows of his own territory.

*"You should have given her to him, Kane. Now you'll lose everything."*

Sophia's voice. But she was supposed to be leaving.

The line went dead.