Chapter 8: The Spy’s Secret

The moon hung like a silver coin over the borderlands, and Willow’s wolf paced beneath her skin, restless and raw. She’d slipped away from Kane’s pack house an hour ago, her boots silent on the frostbitten earth, her heart a drumbeat of betrayal. The rogue scent had been a ghost for days—faint, teasing, always vanishing before she could trace it. But tonight, it was thick as smoke, curling through the pines with purpose.

She followed it to a hollow she knew too well. The place where her mother had died. The place where Kane had rejected her.

And there, crouched among the gnarled roots, was Sophia.

Willow’s breath caught. The golden-haired she-wolf was not alone. Three rogues flanked her, their eyes gleaming with feral hunger, their scars telling stories of a life spent in the shadows. Sophia’s voice was low, urgent, but clear as a bell in the still night.

“The Gamma’s patrol shifts at midnight. The eastern gate will be unguarded for exactly seven minutes. That’s when you strike.”

The largest rogue growled, a sound like grinding stone. “And the Silvermoon pack?”

Sophia smiled. It was a beautiful, terrible thing. “Leave them to me. I’ll have the Luna’s trust by then. She’s weak—still mourning her mother. She’ll open the doors for us herself.”

Willow’s blood turned to ice. *That was the plan. Kill both packs. Feast on the ashes.*

“You’ll be rewarded,” Sophia continued, rising to her full height. “Kane’s head on a spike. The Alpha’s throne for my master. And Willow…” She laughed, a silver tinkle that made Willow’s stomach turn. “She’ll be buried under the rubble, forgotten, just as she deserves.”

The rogues faded into the shadows like they’d never been there. Sophia lingered, her gaze drifting to the sky, almost wistful. Then she turned and walked straight toward Willow’s hiding spot.

Willow’s wolf snarled, demanding blood. But she forced herself still, even as Sophia passed within a breath of her, close enough to smell her perfume—jasmine and rot.

And then she was gone.

Willow stayed frozen for a long moment, the weight of the truth crushing her chest. Sophia was a spy. A traitor. A poison seeded in the heart of Kane’s pack, and now in hers. She had to tell someone. She had to tell Kane.

But the thought of his face—cold, dismissive, the same look he’d given her the night he’d rejected her—made her throat close.

*He’ll think I’m lying. He’ll think I’m jealous of Sophia. He’ll think I’m trying to destroy him.*

The voice inside her, the one that still remembered the mate bond’s burn, whispered differently. *If you say nothing, he dies. Silvermoon dies. Your new pack dies.*

She ran. Not to Kane’s pack house, but to the border. To the place where the woods opened into a clearing of moonlight and sharp wind. Her wolf was frantic, her mind a tangle of fear and fury. She thought of her mother, who had died protecting a secret. Of her father, who had sold her for peace. Of Kane, who had chosen pride over fate.

And of Sophia, who had smiled while plotting her death.

Willow stopped at the edge of the cliff overlooking both territories. Below her, two lands sprawled like sleeping beasts—Kane’s Shadowfang to the east, and the rival pack, Bloodmoon, to the west. She was bound to neither by blood, but by choice. And soon, war would devour them all.

A howl split the night. Low, mournful, unmistakably Kane’s.

Her wolf lunged toward the sound, desperate to answer. But Willow held her ground, her nails biting into her palms. If she warned him, Sophia would be exposed. The rogues would scatter. But Kane would never believe her. He’d see it as a trap, a ploy to win his favor. And she’d lose what little standing she had left.

If she let him burn, the rogues would win. Sophia would be queen. And Willow would be free.

The wind carried his scent to her—pine and smoke and something achingly familiar. Her heart twisted.

*I could let him die. I could let him suffer for what he did to me.*

But then she remembered his eyes that morning. When she’d passed him in the corridor, he’d looked at her not with hatred, but with something raw. Something almost like regret.

And she remembered the way his hand had clenched at his side, as if he’d wanted to reach for her.

Willow made a sound that was half sob, half snarl. She pulled out the small, jagged stone she’d taken from her mother’s grave. It was all she had left of the woman who’d taught her that love was a weapon, and silence was a death sentence.

“Damn you, Kane,” she whispered to the wind. “Damn you for making me care.”

She turned and ran toward Shadowfang.

Kane was in his study when she burst through the door, his shirt half undone, his eyes wild with fury. “Willow—what the hell—?”

“Sophia is a spy.” The words tumbled out, raw and ragged. “She’s working with rogues. They’re planning to attack both packs tonight. She’s going to open your gates.”

Kane’s face went still. Too still. The silence stretched, suffocating. And then he laughed. A bitter, broken sound.

“You’ll do anything to turn me against her, won’t you? Even lie about a rogue invasion.”

Willow’s heart cracked. “I’m not lying. I saw her. I heard her. Kane, she’s going to kill you.”

He stepped closer, and for a moment, she saw the boy she’d once loved beneath the mask of the Alpha. “And why should I believe you? You, who rejected me first?”

The words hit like a blade. Willow’s eyes burned, but she didn’t look away. “Because I’m your fated mate. And despite everything, despite every wound you’ve carved into me, I won’t let you die.”

Kane’s jaw tightened. He reached for her, his fingers brushing her arm—a contact that sent lightning through her veins.

And then the bell rang.

The warning bell. The one that signaled an attack.

Kane’s face drained of color. He spun toward the window, and Willow saw it. The sky was red with fire. The eastern gate was burning.

Sophia’s voice echoed from the courtyard, sweet as poison: “Alpha Kane! The rogues are here! Save us!”

Kane looked at Willow, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t name. And then he was gone, racing into the chaos.

Willow stood alone in the study, her mother’s stone clutched in her hand, the firelight flickering across her face.

And she smiled a broken, terrible smile.

*Let him burn.*

But her feet were already moving, chasing after him, because some bonds were too deep to sever—even with a blade forged of betrayal.