Chapter 6: The Mother's Relic

Vane

The question still rang in my skull when I moved.

Who are you?

I didn't answer. My hind paws dug into the earth and I raked my claws forward, sending a spray of dirt and grit straight into his eyes.

The black wolf flinched. His jaws loosened for half a second.

Half a second was enough.

I ripped free and ran.

No direction. No plan. Just the burn in my legs and the dark blur of trees splitting apart as I tore through them. Behind me, a snarl—sharp and raw, loud enough to rattle the branches above my head—but the paws didn't follow.

I didn't slow down until the forest thinned and the lights of the settlement bled through the trees. My lungs were on fire. My paw pads stung where roots and stones had torn them open.

The oak. I needed the oak.

I found it by scent. My own jacket, my own sweat still clinging to the canvas. Shifted back fast, gasping through the pain of bones snapping into human shape, and yanked my clothes on with shaking hands.

The necklace. I dug it out of the jacket pocket and clasped it around my throat.

The effect was instant. Alpha blood settled over my skin like a veil, thick and false. Ashen's presence in my mind dimmed, muffled, shoved down behind the pendant's hold.

I pressed my back against the bark. My hands wouldn't stop trembling.

Cold sweat covered every inch of me. I could still feel the weight of his body on my spine. The press of his teeth at my throat. The scent that had turned my bones to water and made my wolf sob.

My fatedmate was Darkmoon.

The pack that killed twenty of my people housed the wolf meant for me. Some joke. Some cosmic, sick joke that I couldn't laugh at because my ribs were still shaking.

He found us. Ashen's voice came from somewhere deep inside the necklace's hold, faint and raw. He found us and you ran.

"I had to."

He's ours, Vane.

"He's theirs."

I pulled my jacket tighter and started walking. My legs trembled with each step, but the tribute house was close. I could see the dark outline of it past the tree line, every window shut, every door locked.

The side window on the second floor, the one with the broken latch I'd clocked on my first day, was still loose. I hauled myself up using the drainpipe and a ledge barely wide enough for my toes. The window groaned when I shoved it open. I tumbled inside, caught myself on the floor with both hands, and stayed there for a moment. Breathing.

My room was small and cold. I peeled off my jacket, kicked off the too-big boots, and fell into the narrow bed without changing.

Sleep dragged me under before I could think about anything else.

Shouting woke me.

I sat up fast, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Morning light cut harsh through the thin curtains. Outside my door, footsteps hammered down the hallway and voices stacked on top of each other, high and panicked, a dozen tributes all talking at once.

I dragged on yesterday's boots and opened the door.

The girl from across the hall nearly crashed into me. Her face had gone white.

"The Alpha is here," she whispered. "He's *here*. In the house."

I went cold.

The hallway was chaos. Half-dressed tributes hurrying toward the stairs, someone crying near the bathroom, someone else trying to fix her hair while walking. I followed them down.

The main hall swallowed every sound the moment I stepped in.

Cain Corvus stood in the center of the room.

Black from collar to boots. His arms hung at his sides, his jaw set, his expression so flat it could have been carved. Two guards flanked the door behind him, but they were background noise. Everything in the room bent toward him the way grass bends before a storm hits.

A man I didn't recognize was directing tributes into rows. Tall, sharp-jawed, clipboard in hand. Four lines, facing forward, arms at your sides.

I slipped into the back of the last row and dropped my gaze to the floor.

What is he looking for? Ashen stirred, groggy and dampened by the necklace, but not gone.

I didn't answer. I didn't know. But my pulse had already picked up, hammering against the side of my throat where the necklace sat.

The hall fell silent.

All I could hear was breathing. A dozen girls holding theirs. Then footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

Cain was walking the rows.

I stared at the cracked tile beneath my boots. At the scuff marks left by other girls who'd stood in this exact spot and waited for the alpha to decide their worth. My shoulders were tight. My jaw was locked.

The footsteps reached the end of the first row. Paused. Then started again, closer.

Second row. I tracked his position by sound alone. The creak of leather. The even rhythm of his stride. Each step measured. Unhurried.

Third row.

Then the scent hit me.

It came first as a warm pressure at the base of my skull, then poured down my spine. Rich. Deep. The same pull that had chased me through every turn and sprint last night, the scent that had wrapped around my ribs and squeezed until I couldn't breathe.

Cedar and iron and something raw underneath.

My knees almost buckled. My fists clenched so hard my nails cut into my palms.

Him. Ashen surged against the necklace's hold, her voice cracking. It's him. He's—

Someone stopped beside me.

Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that his scent drowned out everything else. The musty hall, the perfume of the girl next to me, the soap from my own skin. Gone. It flooded my lungs and settled in my chest like a second heartbeat.

I raised my head.

Cain Corvus stared down at me. His dark eyes were steady. Flat. Giving nothing away. His jaw was tight, a muscle twitching just below his ear.

A thin scratch ran along the side of his neck. Fresh.

"Where were you last night?" he asked.