I'm still shaking from the fight in the clearing, my dagger slick with Blackfang blood, my wrist burning where the crescent mark glows like it's got a mind of its own. Kael's beside me, his gray eyes scanning the dark as we slip away from the ritual ground, the air still crackling from that binding rite we just pulled off. My palm stings where our blood mixed, and the mate bond's stronger now, a pulse that makes my skin hum when he's near. I hate how it pulls me toward him, how his touch—his damn hand in mine—made me want to forget the curse, the Blackfangs, everything. I'm Lila Thorn, not some swoony mate, but Kael Draven's got a way of messing with my head, and I'm not sure how much longer I can fight it.
"We need to lay low," Kael says, his voice low and rough, cutting through the forest's quiet. "Those wolves'll be back with more. We can't keep fighting them off like this."
I wipe my dagger on my jeans, my heart still racing. "No kidding. But we're not exactly swimming in options. We need to get to Isolde, and soon, or this curse is gonna—" I stop, not wanting to say it. Not wanting to think about Kael's life draining away because of me.
He glances at me, his scarred face unreadable in the starlight. "We'll get to her. But we need a plan, not just your usual charge-in-and-stab shit."
I smirk, despite myself. "Worked so far, didn't it? Got us through that pass, those scouts, and your little fan club back there."
He shakes his head, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You're impossible, Thorn."
"And you're stuck with me," I shoot back, ignoring the way my mark flares when he looks at me like that. "So, what's next? You said that ritual might weaken Isolde's magic, but we still need a way into the stronghold. Got any bright ideas?"
Kael's quiet for a moment, his boots crunching on leaves as we move deeper into neutral territory. "There's something we're missing," he says finally. "Isolde's curse isn't just magic—it's personal. She didn't just want me dead; she wanted me broken. There's got to be a record, something about her magic, maybe in the Silverclaw archives. Old pack lore, witch dealings—anything that tells us how to undo it."
I stop, my mind racing. The Silverclaw archives—a dusty room in the lodge crammed with journals, scrolls, and pack history. I've been in there a few times, mostly when the elders dragged me in for lectures about "respecting tradition." If there's a clue about Isolde, it'd be there. "You're right," I say, excitement bubbling up. "But getting in won't be easy. Torin's got the lodge on lockdown, and after today, he's watching me like I'm a Blackfang spy."
Kael's jaw tightens. "Then we don't both go. You sneak in, find what we need. I'll stay out here, keep the Blackfangs off your trail."
I laugh, short and sharp. "Oh, no. You're not benching me, Draven. We're a team, remember? Besides, you wouldn't last five minutes without me."
He steps closer, and the mate bond hums, making my breath catch. "Lila, this isn't a game. If Torin catches you with me, you're done. Exiled, locked up—worse. I'm not worth that."
His words hit like a punch, and I hate how they make my chest ache. "Don't tell me what you're worth," I snap, my voice sharper than I mean. "I'm doing this for me, for my pack, not just you. So shut up and help me figure this out."
For a second, he just stares, his gray eyes searching mine. Then he nods, slow and deliberate. "Alright. But we do it fast. In and out before dawn."
We make our way back toward Silverclaw territory, sticking to the shadows. My mark's burning, and every step feels like a risk. Torin's patrols are out in force, and I know Mara and Jace are probably worried sick. Guilt gnaws at me for shutting them out, but I can't drag them into this—not yet. The lodge comes into view, its wooden walls glowing under torchlight, and I signal Kael to hang back. "Wait here," I whisper. "If I'm not out in an hour, assume I'm in trouble."
He grabs my arm, his touch sending sparks through my mark. "Be careful, Lila. I mean it."
I pull free, my heart racing. "Always am."
Sneaking into the lodge is easier than I expect—Torin's patrols are focused on the borders, not the heart of the village. I slip through a side door, my boots silent on the wooden floor. The archives are in the basement, a cramped room that smells like dust and old paper. My mark tingles as I ease the door open, my dagger ready in case someone's waiting. The room's empty, thank God, and I start scanning the shelves, my fingers brushing over leather-bound journals and brittle scrolls.
Most of it's pack history—battles, Alphas, boring stuff—but then I find it: a small, black journal tucked behind a stack of ledgers. The cover's etched with a crescent moon, like my mark, and my heart skips. I flip it open, my eyes racing over the faded ink. It's a record of witch dealings, written by some long-dead elder. Halfway through, I see her name: Isolde Vey. The text talks about her blood magic, how she binds curses with pain and sacrifice. There's a note about breaking her spells—something about a relic, a "heart of the moon," hidden in ancient ruins. It's vague, but it's a lead.
I'm about to pocket the journal when a floorboard creaks behind me. I spin, my dagger up, and freeze. Mara's there, her hazel eyes wide, her blonde hair catching the lantern light. "Lila, what are you doing?" she whispers, her voice shaking. "Torin's looking for you. If he finds you here—"
"Mara, go," I hiss, my heart pounding. "You didn't see me."
She steps closer, her face pale. "No. You're in trouble, I know it. Tell me what's going on, or I'm getting Jace."
Panic claws at me. I can't tell her about the mark, about Kael, but the hurt in her eyes is killing me. "Mara, please," I say, my voice soft. "Trust me. I'll explain later, I swear."
She hesitates, then nods, but I know she's not letting this go. I slip out before she can change her mind, the journal tucked inside my jacket. I'm almost to the border when a growl stops me cold. A Silverclaw patrol—three wolves, led by one of Torin's lieutenants. They spot me, their eyes narrowing, and I know I'm screwed.
"Lila Thorn," the lieutenant growls. "Torin wants you. Now."
My mark burns, and I grip my dagger, my mind racing. Kael's out there, waiting, and the Blackfangs are closing in. I'm not going down without a fight.