Seraphina Thorne POV:
Back in her rooms at the Blackwood Packhouse, Lilith was still trembling. The name—*Celeste*—was a ghost that had haunted her for years, and now Seraphina had given it a voice. She checked the lock on her door for the third time before pacing the length of her opulent chamber like a caged animal.
When Ryker entered, he found her pale and distraught. He immediately wrapped her in his arms, his big body a shield against the world. "It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "She's just lost her mind. Don't let her get to you."
Lilith burrowed into his chest, but her doe-eyes, hidden from his view, were cold and sharp with calculation. She couldn't afford to let Seraphina live. The risk was too great. A creature of the shadows, her survival instinct was to eliminate threats, not to confront them.
"I'm so scared, Ryker," she whispered, her voice a fragile, trembling thing. "The way she looks at me… it's like she wants to kill me. I'm worried she'll do something to hurt herself… or someone else." She planted the seed, framing herself as the saint who worried for her tormentor's well-being.
Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, she added, "There's that cliff at the edge of the Thorne territory, isn't there? The one they call Widow's Leap. I've heard she likes to go there when she's upset."
Ryker's jaw tightened. As much as he despised Seraphina's recent behavior, the thought of her harming herself sent a sharp, unwelcome pang through the frayed remnants of their bond. He wouldn't let that happen.
Lilith’s plan was simple and cruel: lure Seraphina to the cliff, stage a "tragic accident" or a "suicide attempt," and permanently brand her as a dangerous lunatic in the eyes of both packs.
The next afternoon, I was in our private training grounds, my muscles burning as I worked through a series of combat drills. It was a new routine, a way to channel my rage into strength.
Jenna Croft, one of Lilith’s more sycophantic followers, approached me, her face a mask of false concern. "Lilith is really worried about you," she said, her voice dripping with insincerity. "She thought you might want to talk. She suggested meeting at Widow's Leap. The view is supposed to be very calming."
A trap. It was so transparent it was almost insulting. In my past life, Lilith had used similar ploys to lead me into "accidents" that left me injured and humiliated.
A cold smile played on my lips, but I kept my voice hesitant and fragile. "I… I don't know if I can face her. Can I just go alone? To think."
Jenna’s eyes lit up. She thought I’d taken the bait. "Of course! She'll understand. She said to go around sunset."
I intended to go. But this time, the predator would be the one walking into the snare.
I arrived a full hour early, circling around to approach the cliff from downwind, my movements silent as a shadow in the dense undergrowth. The wind carried their scents to me long before I saw them. Lilith. And two others. Their scents were foul, reeking of desperation and violence. They were Rogues.
My blood ran cold. Lilith, the pristine future Luna, was colluding with packless outcasts. A crime punishable by death.
I crept closer, hiding behind a thicket of ferns that offered a clear view of the cliff's edge. Lilith was pacing impatiently, her two brutish companions lurking nearby.
"Where is she?" one of the Rogues grunted, a hulking male with a scarred face. "Are you sure she's coming?"
"Be patient," Lilith snapped, her sweet facade completely gone. "She'll be here. Just do what you're paid to do, and the gold and food are yours."
"Looking for me?" My voice cut through the air, cool and clear.
They spun around, shock and fury on their faces. I had emerged from the woods behind them, cutting off their retreat.
Lilith recovered first. A venomous smile twisted her lips. "Kill her," she hissed at the Rogues. "Make it look like she fell."
The two outcasts grinned, flexing their claws as they advanced on me.
I stood my ground. My wolf wasn't ready to surface, but my Alpha blood sang in my veins, lending me a speed and strength I was only just beginning to understand. I dodged the first Rogue's clumsy lunge, spinning on my heel and driving my foot into the back of the second one's knee. He roared in pain and surprise.
But I was still one against two. The scarred male grabbed my arm, his grip like a steel vise. I struggled, but he was too strong.
Lilith laughed, a high, cruel sound. "Goodbye, Seraphina."
The other Rogue raised his hand, his claws glinting in the fading light, aiming for my face. I braced for the impact, a snarl of defiance on my lips.
Suddenly, a black blur shot out from the trees. There was a sickening crunch as a powerful kick sent the Rogue flying. He landed in a heap, unconscious.
Damien Blackwood stood over him, his amber eyes blazing with fury. He had been on patrol, his route taking him along the border. He had heard the sounds of a struggle.
His gaze flicked from me to the remaining Rogue, and then to a terrified Lilith. Disgust and shock warred on his handsome face. Without a word, he moved with lethal grace, disarming and disabling the second Rogue in a matter of seconds.
Then he stood, silent and imposing, and turned his cold, condemning stare on the future Luna of his pack, who was now frozen in place, her face a mask of pure terror. The trap had snapped shut, but not on the prey it was intended for.
Lilith stared at Damien, her face ashen. "It's not what it looks like," she stammered, her voice shrill with panic. "She… she set me up! Those Rogues are with her!"
Damien's expression remained like stone. He was a warrior, trained to read a battlefield, to distinguish truth from deception in the heat of combat. He looked at me, my clothes torn but my eyes blazing with defiant fury. Then he looked at Lilith, who reeked of fear and lies. His gaze was all the judgment she needed.
He turned to me, his voice a low, steady rumble. "Are you alright?"
