POV: Lucien Blackveil
The pine trees whispered with secrets, but Lucien Blackveil didn't believe in whispers. He believed in facts. Signs. Scent. Blood.
He stood at the edge of the northern border of Silver Fang territory, the air colder here, sharpened with the unmistakable bite of rogue musk. His sharp black boots dug into the softened forest floor as he knelt, brushing two fingers over a faint indentation in the soil.
Small.
Light.
Barefoot.
He narrowed his eyes. Young girls.
"Gamma," he said without looking up.
Travis stepped forward, his spear already in hand, eyes darting through the treeline.
"Multiple sets," Lucien muttered. "They were herded. Pushed fast. Northbound."
Behind him, Asher Thorne—Alpha of the Silverstone Pack—stood still, tension rolling off his shoulders. His Beta, Jack Moonstone, paced like a caged wolf, eyes glowing amber. Alex Ashwood, their Gamma, was alert and silent, watching the flanks.
Lucien rose, dusting off his fingers with precise movements. "This wasn't an ambush," he said coldly. "It was a harvest."
Asher stepped forward, his face pale. "How can you tell?"
Lucien finally looked at him. "Because they were quiet. Efficient. And they took only what they needed. Girls. Not warriors. Not elders. Just… girls."
The word tasted bitter on his tongue.
"Why only girls?" Lucien pressed, his voice a blade.
Jack glanced away. Asher hesitated, then answered, "They were all eighteen… or close. Yesterday was Aira's birthday. The Blood Moon."
Lucien's eyes flashed.
Blood Moon.
He had almost forgotten. The sacred night when Selene blessed her avatar in the ancient legends.
Roman, his wolf, snarled in his mind. "It's the prophecy. You know what they're doing."
Lucien nodded faintly to himself. "Of course. They're not random targets. They're keys."
David, his Beta, stepped up beside him. "The legends… they talk about a girl born on the Blood Moon. A white wolf with the mark of Selene."
Lucien's voice dropped like a storm. "The one who wields the Red Sword. The one who either saves us—or ends us."
Asher looked stunned. "That's just myth…"
Lucien's cold stare shut him up instantly. "Myth," he echoed. "That's what your ancestors said before they burned alive in the forest wars."
A sharp rustling came through the trees. Travis returned from his scout.
"We have movement," he reported. "Northeast ridge. Cloaked figures. Moving toward the cliffs."
Lucien turned without hesitation. "We head there now."
He raised his arm, and warriors melted from the shadows, their blades gleaming, silver-tipped arrows on their backs.
"Alpha Blackveil," David asked in a low tone, "what if she is the girl from the prophecy?"
Lucien didn't flinch. His eyes burned with icy certainty. "Then we do not let her fall into the hands of the Rogue King."
Roman howled within him. A call for war.
Lucien looked over the forest one last time.
"Gear up. We leave in ten minutes. We do not come back until we find those girls."