“You’re worried,” he observes, not looking at me but clearly sensing my concern.
“You’ve been weakened by silver. He’ll be coming at full strength.”
His smile is slight but genuine. “Have more faith in your mate, little wolf.”
“It’s not lack of faith,” I correct, turning to face him fully. “You’ve fought through silver contamination, sustained multiple injuries, expended enormous energy breaking through magical wards. Thaddeus comes fresh, rested, with generations of power behind him.”
Ryker finally turns to me, his mismatched eyes holding mine with unwavering confidence. “And yet I have something he doesn’t.”
“What’s that?”
His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with gentle reverence. “Belief that what we have is worth fighting for. Worth dying for, if necessary.”
The simple truth of it silences further argument. He knows exactly what he faces, understands the disadvantages and accepts them without reservation or doubt.
Before I can respond, an alert calls from our perimeter. They’ve arrived.
We move to the plateau’s edge, standing together as the small contingent emerges from the forest below. Thaddeus leads, his white hair gleaming in sunlight, power rolling before him like heat off desert stone. Zella follows a stepbehind, her expression coldly professional as her gaze sweeps the plateau.
The dozen guards fan out behind them but maintain distance—close enough to protect but far enough to indicate this is not yet combat but parley.
“Ryker Ashmere,” Thaddeus calls, his voice carrying effortlessly up the slope. “I see you’ve recovered your pet. How touching.”
“Thaddeus Solomon,” Ryker returns, matching the formality. “I see you’ve brought your spy. Did she prove worth the investment?”
Zella’s expression tightens, but she remains silent as Thaddeus laughs.
“More than worth it. Five years of intelligence on everything to do with your pack.” His gaze shifts to me. “And most valuable of all, confirmation that your seer is worth the fight.”
I feel Ryker tense. I half expect him to reveal that I’m now sightless, but he keeps that to himself. He tilts his head toward the cleared field. “Let’s not delay this any further. Shall we?”
The invitation hangs in the air between them—direct, unambiguous, impossible to misconstrue or evade.
“Very well.” Thaddeus turns to his contingent, issuing commands with the easy authority of one accustomed to unquestioning obedience. “Maintain position. This matter will be settled as tradition demands—alpha to alpha.”
The guards acknowledge with various gestures of respect and submission, falling back to form a loose perimeter at the forest edge. Only Zella remains close, her position symbolically significant—right hand to the Grand Alpha, visible evidence of where her loyalty lies.
The traitor.
Thaddeus begins climbing the slope toward us, his movements unhurried. Despite his age—which must spancenturies by wolf reckoning—nothing in his physique suggests weakness or diminishment. He moves with the contained power of a predator who has never known a true challenge, secure in strength proven through countless victories.
Ryker turns to me, his expression softening briefly. “Wait at the perimeter with Elias.”
“No.” My response is immediate and absolute. “I’ll stay with you.”
“Kitara—”
“I’m not fragile,” I interrupt, meeting his gaze steadily. “And I’m not just your mate but Alpha Female of the Shadowmist Pack. Whatever comes, we face it together.”
I watch as his frustration gives way to pride, respect, and beneath it all, a deep-rooted certainty that we belong side by side.
“Together then,” he agrees as Thaddeus crests the rise, coming to stand thirty paces from us at the plateau’s center.
Up close, the resemblance between father and son becomes more evident—not just in physical stature but in the quality of presence each commands. They are not identical—Ryker’s frame is leaner, more defined by combat and survival, whereas Thaddeus carries more solid mass—but the underlying similarities are unmistakable.
“You’ve caused considerable damage to my compound,” Thaddeus observes, his tone almost conversational. “Killed many wolves under my protection. Created disorder where there should be harmony.”
“You kidnapped my mate,” Ryker counters evenly. “Torture my second, and planned to sever a claiming bond sanctified by wolf law.”
