Chapter 17, The Serpent’s Neck
Wren
I watched from the shadows of the motor pool as the three black SUVs idled, their exhaust pluming like ghostly breath in the freezing air.
My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the wet, frantic whispering I had heard earlier.
What should I do? What am I supposed to do? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Careful with his leg,” Silas snapped. His voice carried across the pavement. “I want the King to see exactly what those monsters did to our men. If they don’t look like they’re dying, the King won’t give us the clearance to hunt.”
I felt a sick twist in my gut. They weren’t just going to the meeting: they were bringing props. They were bringing a lie dressed in bandages to start a war.
“Wren? What are you doing out here?”
I spinned around to find Killian standing just a few feet away.
He looked conflicted, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his eyes scanning the SUVs before landing on me with a heavy, suspicious weight.
He was the Alpha Heir, the boy I was supposed to lean on, but right now he felt like a stranger.
“I heard them, Killian,” I whispered. I stepped closer to him, my voice trembling. “They’re lying to Silas. Your dad, my dad...”
Killian’s face hardened. He didn’t look surprised. Instead, he looked like he was choosing not to care. “Wren. A sentinel is dead. This is about pack honor. Stay out of it.”
“Honor built on a lie isn’t honor,” I said, backing toward the darkness of the tree line.
“Where are you going?” He took a step toward me, his hand reaching out as if to grab my arm. “Wren, get back inside before Silas sees us.”
I looked at his hand and then up at his face, the boy who had been my only shadow of protection. “Don’t hate me,” I breathed, my eyes stinging. “Please. I have to go.”
Before he could reach me, I turned and vanished into the dark. I didn’t take the road. I took the goat paths through the fells, the narrow, jagged trails that cut miles off the distance if you were brave enough to run them in the dark.
Every branch that whipped my face felt like a warning.
Every slip on the wet shale felt like the world was trying to pull me down.
But that silver-cold light was back, burning in my lungs and pushing me faster than a Null should ever be able to move.
I had to get there. I couldn’t let them start a war over a secret I was now cursed to carry.
Skarde
The Serpent’s Neck was a treacherous stretch of shale and stone, a narrow strip of land hemmed in by the black, bottomless waters of the lake on one side and the jagged rise of the fells on the other.
It was the only neutral ground left in the District since the massacre, and tonight, it was blindingly bright.
Alaric had already claimed the center of the Neck. He stood tall against the wind, flanked by Kora and Lucien. Portable floodlights had been hauled onto the rocks, casting a harsh, artificial glare that made the lake water look like a bottomless pit.
I emerged from the treeline with Torin and Rhys at my back. As we stepped into the wash of the lights, I lowered my head and offered a deep, respectful bow to Alaric. Behind me, Torin and Rhys followed suit, their movements synchronized and silent.
“Alaric,” I greeted. My voice carried over the lap of the water against the stones.
Alaric gave a single, curt nod. He didn’t have time for small talk.
The sound of tires crunching on shale announced the arrival of the High-Ridge. Three black SUVs pulled in, their headlamps cutting through the mist. Silas stepped out first, followed by Arthur and Rorik.
The air immediately soured. Silas cast a single, loathing glance toward me and my men.
It was the kind of look you’d give a pile of filth clogging a gutter.
He pointedly turned his back on us and walked toward Alaric, offering a bow so shallow it was practically an insult.
Arthur and Rorik followed his lead, their faces twisted into masks of pure arrogance as they stood before their King.
“Majesty,” Silas said. His voice was dripping with forced politeness. “Let’s get this over with. My men are bleeding while we stand here.”
He gestured toward the SUVs where his wounded warriors were waiting to play their parts. It was a tactical blunder bringing them. Silas clearly thought their bloodied faces would buy him sympathy.
But then, the wind shifted.
Alaric’s head tilted. His nostrils flared as he scented the wind that rolled off the fells. Beside him, Kora shifted her weight, her shoulders bunching as she caught a scent that shouldn’t be there. The snap of a dry fern. The frantic, shallow breathing of someone rushing towards us.
Stay calm. I smell her too, boys. I glanced over my shoulder at Torin and Rhys, who lowered their chins to show they heard me.
Alaric’s eyes tracked a movement in the dark ferns just beyond the reach of the floodlights. “Bring her,” he commanded.
Kora moved with terrifying speed, disappearing into the shadows. Silas went pale, his hands curling into fists as he scanned the darkness. “An assassin? Night-Stalkers, I knew.”
“Oh, shut up, Silas,” I growled.
A moment later, there was a muffled gasp. The ferns parted, and Kora led Wren into the light with her hand firm on her shoulder. Wren was covered in dirt, her face streaked with sweat, looking small and fragile against the backdrop of the massive lake.
“Wren?” Arthur hissed. He took a half-step forward, his face pale with shock. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Alaric didn’t acknowledge Arthur’s outburst. He simply looked at the man until Arthur withered, realizing he had spoken out of turn. Then, the King turned his golden gaze back to Wren.
“So this is your daughter, Arthur?” Alaric asked.
“She is, Majesty,” Arthur rasped. His head bowed low.
Alaric stepped toward her, his gaze sweeping over her with a predatory smirk. He loomed over her small frame, a titan of moonlight and shadow. “And why has she run miles through the fells in the dark to find us? Speak, girl.”
Wren looked up, her gaze darting across the circle of Alphas.
When her eyes landed on me, she froze. I saw her pupils blow wide as she realized exactly who was standing there.
She recognized the man who had let her live.
The violet-eyed shadow who had spared her at the border was now standing in the light.
“I’m here because they’re lying,” Wren said.
“Lying?!” Silas roared. The word tore out of him. He stepped forward, his face contorted in a mask of desperate rage. “She’s a Null! A broken, wolf-less girl! Majesty, she’s bitter. She’s trying to humiliate us because she has no place among real wolves!”
Alaric didn’t even look at Silas. He just raised a single hand, and the pressure of his aura slammed into Silas like a wall, forcing the Alpha to choke.
“I am asking the questions, Silas,” Alaric said. His voice dropped an octave. He turned his focus back to Wren. “Who is lying, and about what?”
Wren visibly shook, but she didn’t back down. I felt the silver-cold resonance between us hum. Tell the truth, I sent the thought to her, watching her lock onto my gaze.
She took a slow inhale and turned to her father. “You’ve taught me to not lie, Dad. You always said lies only cause more trouble. You remember?”
I watched Arthur nod slowly, his eyes wide with a mounting panic.
“They weren’t on patrol,” Wren said. Her voice was gaining strength. “I heard them talking outside the Great Hall. They went to the border on their own to get revenge for the killed Sentinel. They told each other to lie so they wouldn’t get punished for going rogue.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to drown in. Silas’s face had gone from red to a sickly, pale grey. “Lies. She lies.”
“Or she’s the only one here with a spine,” I cut in. My voice was a low rumble. I stepped forward, the shale crunching under my boots. “My land is deep, Silas. I know exactly where I caught your patrol. They were far past the boundary, looking for a fight.”
Alaric let his Command bleed into the air. It was a sharp, needle-like pressure that demanded honesty.
“Lucien,” Alaric murmured.
His Gamma moved instantly, hauling one of the warriors out of the SUV by his collar and dragging him into the center of the light. Under the pressure of the King’s aura, the boy’s courage shattered.
“Is the girl lying?” Alaric asked. “Would you kindly tell us the truth, boy.”
The boy looked at Silas, desperate for help, but Silas was looking at the ground. Then he looked at me, and I let Varg flash in my eyes.
“I... we...” the warrior stammered. “We just wanted the Night-Stalker who killed the guard. We thought we could handle it.”
Silas let out a jagged breath as the lie collapsed in the mud. Alaric turned back to Wren. His predatory smirk softened into genuine curiosity.
“You ran three miles through the fells in the dark to tell me this?” Alaric asked.
Wren nodded once. “I didn’t want a war over a lie.”
Alaric hummed, a low vibration that resonated with the lake itself. “A girl with the legs of a scout and the heart of a judge. Interesting.” He looked at Silas, his eyes cold as ice. “Your pack has spilled blood on a lie, Silas. That comes with a price.”