Chapter Two
DIERK
Death filled the pit.
The breath of it covered every surface. Death and dirt.
Bones in a corner–rats’ dinner. No light. No air. Only cold walls stained by everything a body could leak when torn apart.
I sighed as my wolf growled softly. The scene was as familiar to us as the taste of blood on our tongue. The stench, the silence, the screams trapped into stone. The thick iron bars between me and the door. Even the chains at my wrists. Usual.
The only difference was what I’d found when I woke up. Clothes. A bucket of clean water. A bowl of stew. Why would I be thrown in this hellhole, but given nourishment? It was why I didn’t touch any, no matter how starved I was.
Poison delivers an ugly death.
Starvation is slower, but cleaner. More honest. And you can fight hunger. Can’t fight poison, though.
An iron gate creaked open. Then closed.
My wolf and I snapped to attention. We both paced, ready to fight, to get free. The instinct to shift was maddening, but the chains at my wrists caged him inside me with merciless finality.
Steps came closer. Soft, but there was intent in the stride. A skirt swished.
I stood in the middle of the cell, waiting, waiting.
She appeared like a clean flame striking through soot and rot. A shard of brightness in a place that devoured light.
The slender female who’d knocked me cold with nothing more than a flick of her wrist.
My memories of the day before were broken at best. Falling into the trap. Wrenching iron jaws apart as blood soaked me. Fighting against hands dragging me down, hands replaced by chains in that rotting cottage. Soldiers hauling me like hounds with a wounded boar.
But her.... Her, I remembered.
And so did my wolf, now unnervingly silent and still.
She stopped before the bars. The scent of flowers and autumn clung to her skin.
Nerves hung faint in the air. No fear. Not yesterday, not now.
Moss-green eyes were steady on me, her strawberry blond hair clean in its elegant coil, her pale skin unmarked by the filth of the world.
Her gown was a deep green velvet, embroidered with gold leaves.
It was meant for courts and balls, not stone and chains.
A court daughter. Beautiful, polished, raised to smile and bow, wrapped in silk while wolves like me rotted outside the city.
But her magic... both my wolf and I felt it.
And she knew it. Her gaze never wavered, just as her hand had not trembled when she’d dropped me yesterday.
Her fire was a blade sheathed in velvet.
The way she carried herself told me she knew that, too.
My wolf should have been snapping, pacing.
Howling for her blood. He was still. Watching.
It unsettled me more than chains or fire.
Wolves don’t go quiet unless they’re listening for something greater. Unless they’ve already decided the fight isn’t theirs.
Nonsense.
I wasn’t deluded. If there were to be a fight–and there would be one–I’d lose. Chained, wolf trapped, I’d stand no chance. Maybe that’s why she was here. To finish it. She could do it without getting a hair out of place, without a drop of sweat.
She linked her hands together at her waist, her face unreadable, her scent almost blank now besides those flowers and autumn and nerves.
“I see you’ve been fed and clothed,” she declared, her voice sweet steel.
Her gaze flicked to the untouched bucket and bowl, then to my newly covered body. “Did they bring salve for your wounds?”
Something was wrong.
So wrong.
I stalked the space between us, the walls getting closer with each step, her scent getting thicker. Where was the mockery? The cruelty? The next set of chains? “Where are your dogs?” I growled, even though my wolf stayed alert but quiet.
Nothing changed in her face or stance. She only said, “Away. But close enough.” For a fraction of a breath, her lips quirked upward. “I think I already proved I can take care of myself, though.”
She had. I had to give her that. The way she wielded her fire was terrifying in its precision. She might be small and graceful, a court jewel, but she was not helpless. And she was holding me prisoner. “Why am I here?”
Slowly, she stepped away, her gaze drifting over the bare walls as if they held art. She arrogantly gave me her back, as though I were no threat at all, and asked, “What do you think of this pack?”
The question was so unexpected, so ridiculous. I laughed, bitter.
This pack had left my mother to rot after she’d been torn apart by nobles’ army for sport, for no reason beyond being a nobody.
This pack allowed rogues to rule the outer lands because the Alpha cared for nothing but his throne.
“This pack is nothing but wolves bleeding one another for scraps,” I spat.
“I don’t belong to your pack, or anywhere else. ”
She turned then. Stepped close enough for me to draw in a gulp of her sweet scent. Not close enough to reach if I lunged. Her dark green eyes held mine, steady. She leaned in a little, as if to whisper a secret. “And how’s that working out for you?”
The truth of it put a muzzle on my mouth.
“You have no family. No one you hold dear,” she said.
“I need no one.”
Her face remained composed, detached, as she hummed, “Mh.” She tilted her head, studying me like the beast pinned to the ground that I was. “You have no trade to your name. No pack duties. Nothing that ties you to anything.”
“A wolf needs nothing but his teeth.”
“And yet, you’re in chains right now.” She turned the full force of her stare on me. “So, I would dare say things aren’t working exceptionally well for you. Without a purpose, you’re simply breathing. Waiting for the end.”
“What I do is no concern of yours.”
She stepped closer now, close enough that I might reach through the bars and catch her. Even half-drowned in wolfsbane, I could snatch her, wrench her in, and smash her skull on the bars. She’d have keys on her. I tensed, ready to do just that–but her words stopped me cold.
“What if I gave you a purpose?” Fire burned cruel and bright in her eyes, but it was contained. Her voice stayed controlled. Light, even, like she was offering me a cup of water. “I can give you blood, if blood is what you seek.Revenge.”
I scoffed, trying to ignore the pull of that violence she commanded with such ruthless ease. “Revenge for what? I’ve never been part of anything worth bleeding for.”
“So you chose this way of living?” she asked, faintly amused. “And further, this is how you wish to continue living?”
I had the unmistakable feeling of being baited, and the terrifying clarity of knowing I was going to keep listening.
Because yes. I wanted blood. Sometimes it felt like it was all I’d ever wanted.
For the way my mother was slaughtered. For the way wolves like me were left to live.
For the rot in this pack. Its cruelty, its hunger, its unchecked ruin.
I didn’t even care whose blood she was dangling that blood in front of me.
If she wanted someone dead for standing against the Alpha, all she had to do was whisper it to him.
And if it was someone small and poor, she looked rich enough to have already made them disappear.
Which meant the blood she was offering had to belong to someone who mattered in the court.
And no one in the court deserved to live.
“How?” I growled, knowing she understood what I meant.
She lifted her chin, straightened her back, and when she spoke, it was with the weight of rage and despair as consuming as mine. “You’ll get your revenge by helping me tear it all to the ground. Fight beside me until every name that helps rule in blood is ash.”
I never had much to laugh about in my life. But I laughed now, rough and bitter. “Sure,” I said when the laughter scraped out of me. “You’re obviously touched in the head."
I expected denial. I expected her to flare, to bristle, to stop me with fire again. She nodded instead, steady as stone. “And your point would be?”
I sucked my teeth. Alright. She was mad.
Mad enough to stand in front of me, bars between us, and admit it without a flicker of shame. Mad enough to speak against her own kind, against the polished rulers who had always pissed on wolves like me.
That madness was dangerous. It got people gutted or worse.
But it stirred something in me all the same.
Because for the first time, someone from her world, a world of silk and titles and polished lies, wasn’t parroting the Alpha’s song or bowing to it.
She was breaking from it. Risking herself for it.
Because I had no clue who she was, but there was no speculating what would happen to her if she got caught.
My wolf was prowling now, ears pricked, watching her with unnerving focus. Not snapping at the chains the way he should. He was simply looking at her. Attentive. As though he recognized something I didn’t. As though this little court daughter made of beauty and fire was not a threat, but a call.
It all made her the most interesting thing. And so I asked, “Why didn’t you challenge the Alpha yourself?”
“Because my wolf is weak. Small,” she admitted, matter-of-factly. “My fire is strong, but fire alone is not enough to rule. My father has gone unchallenged for a reason. But you...”
I gaped at her, then, reeling at the truth she opened. “You’re the Alpha’s daughter?”
“I’m Elske of House Fireborn. Eldest daughter of Vargan. Sister to Skarr and Adelheid.” Her voice carried the certainty of authority. “And you might be the only one strong enough to help me.”
I was speechless.
She didn’t seem to care. “I can keep you hidden. Train you and your magic until you’re more than raw rage and muscle. In return, you’ll help me bring them down. You’ll have your revenge and maybe a life worth living. I’ll have my pack’s freedom and safety.”
“It’s suicidal.”
She shrugged. “Possibly. But you’re dead anyway, so this costs you nothing.”