Chapter 8 The Warning

The scent of blood still lingered in the air.

Azriel stood in the center of the clearing, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. Around him, the pack remained tense, their gazes flicking between their Alpha and the space where the shadowed creature had vanished.

No one spoke for a long moment. Then, finally, Lucan broke the silence.

"What the hell just happened?" His voice was sharp, laced with barely restrained anger. "That thing-Azriel, it knew you."

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, still feeling the lingering burn of the voice in his head. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it, but this was the first time it had taken shape, attacked.

"I don't know what it was," he admitted, his voice even. "But this wasn't random."

Valesia stepped forward then, her piercing eyes unreadable. "It wasn't here for the pack," she said softly. "It was here for you."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Azriel turned toward her, his golden gaze meeting hers. "You knew this was coming," he said, more statement than question.

She didn't flinch. "I suspected."

Lucan let out a scoff, stepping between them. "And when, exactly, were you planning on telling us?" His jaw was tight, his body still coiled with tension. "We just fought something not of this world, Valesia. Something none of us have seen before."

Valesia held his gaze without hesitation. "I didn't know when it would come. Only that it would."

Azriel exhaled sharply, looking away. His mind was still replaying the words spoken in the depths of his mind.

"You were born of darkness, and you will serve it."

He clenched his fists. No. Whatever this curse was, whatever they thought he was meant to be-he refused to be bound by it.

His pack was watching him now, waiting for answers he didn't have.

"We'll talk in the war room," he said finally, his voice carrying authority. "Now isn't the time for speculation. We need to be prepared if this thing returns."

Lucan gave a curt nod, though the tension in his shoulders remained. The others started dispersing, murmurs rippling through the crowd as they made their way toward the packhouse.

Valesia stayed by his side. She was watching him carefully, as if expecting something.

"You should get that wound checked," she said finally, nodding toward the gash on his shoulder.

Azriel glanced at it, barely feeling the sting. "It's nothing."

"Maybe," she said. "But that thing wasn't normal. You don't know what it left behind."

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded. "Fine."

She gave him one last searching look before turning toward the packhouse.

Azriel lingered for a moment, gazing into the dark forest. The air still felt off, as if the presence hadn't completely faded. He could feel it, a whisper lingering at the edges of his mind.

This wasn't over.

Whatever had come for him tonight had only just begun its hunt.

And he had a feeling next time, it wouldn't leave without taking something.