Chapter 2 A Game Of Shadows

Power was a game of patience.

Dacre Valnan had mastered it long ago.

He stood at the highest peak of Shadowveil's fortress, watching the land stretch before him. The wind was sharp, slicing through the night like a blade, but he barely felt it. His wolves moved below, training in synchronized brutality, their forms blurring in the darkness.

Discipline. Precision. Control.

These were the foundations of Shadowveil. He had built them into his pack's bones, beaten hesitation from their minds, and replaced it with obedience. Fear was an effective tool, but respect was sharper. His wolves followed him not because they had no choice, but because they knew he would never fail them.

Failure was weakness. And weakness had no place in his world.

"Alpha."

Dacre didn't turn as his Beta, Orion, approached. The older wolf was broad-shouldered and battle-worn, one of the few Dacre trusted to speak without permission.

"The Nightfang scouts spotted our patrol." Orion's voice was steady. "Aidana Draven will know we're watching."

Dacre's lips curled slightly. "Good."

He had expected nothing less. Aidana wasn't a fool, and she wasn't weak. She was a wildfire barely contained, all sharp edges and reckless bravery. Unlike the alphas before her, she didn't just inherit power-she commanded it. He had watched her from the shadows, studying, measuring. He needed to know exactly what kind of leader she was before he made his next move.

So far, she was proving to be... interesting.

"She sent your messenger back," Orion added. "With a warning."

Dacre finally turned. "Did she?"

"She told him that if you want something, you should come yourself."

A slow smirk ghosted across Dacre's lips. Bold.

Or foolish.

"Then she understands me better than I thought," he murmured.

Orion frowned. "Alpha, if we keep provoking her, she will retaliate."

Dacre met his Beta's gaze, ice meeting steel. "I am counting on it."

He wasn't interested in petty territorial spats. He was interested in control. In knowing how far Aidana Draven could be pushed before she snapped. Every leader had a breaking point. He intended to find hers.

"What's the real play here?" Orion asked, arms crossed. "Are you testing her or preparing for war?"

Dacre exhaled slowly, gaze drifting back to the mountains. "War is inevitable."

Orion's silence was agreement enough.

Shadowveil and Nightfang had been at each other's throats for a century. Blood soaked the history between them, each generation continuing the cycle. Dacre had never questioned it. Nightfang had taken from him before he even had the chance to decide whether he hated them or not. The choice had been made for him.

And yet... Aidana wasn't like the alphas before her.

She was dangerous because she was unpredictable. Unlike her father, she wasn't bound by tradition or driven by reckless vengeance. She thought. She led. And she inspired unshakable loyalty.

That made her a threat.

And Dacre didn't allow threats to go unchecked.

"She won't trust you," Orion said after a long pause.

"She doesn't have to." Dacre's voice was calm. "She only has to react."

A shift in power came from movement. If Aidana retaliated, he could counter. If she ignored him, he would find another way to draw her out. Either way, she would step into his game, and he would make sure she never saw the strings until it was too late.

"Prepare the patrols," he ordered. "Increase border movement. Make sure they see us."

Orion gave a stiff nod and turned to leave, but hesitated. "And if she comes to face you herself?"

Dacre smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"Then I'll know she's worth my time."

As the night deepened, his gaze lingered on the distant ridge where Nightfang's land began.

Aidana Draven wanted to play?

He would teach her how to lose.

Dacre left the fortress before dawn, slipping through the dense forest with the ease of a shadow. He didn't announce his departure-he never did. His wolves knew better than to question his movements.

The terrain was unforgiving, but he thrived in it. The scent of damp earth and pine filled his lungs as he moved toward the border, where the land between Shadowveil and Nightfang grew thin. He wanted to see it for himself, the line that had been drawn in blood for generations.

As he neared the edge, he sensed movement. Someone was already there.

His sharp gaze caught a lone figure standing on a rocky outcrop. The wind whipped through dark curls, carrying the unmistakable scent of Nightfang's alpha.

Aidana Draven.

She hadn't come alone, but she stood apart, a silent challenge. Even from this distance, Dacre could feel her energy-a storm barely contained, daring him to cross the line.

A slow smile played on his lips.

Interesting.

He didn't step forward. Neither did she.

For now, they simply watched, two predators in the quiet before the storm.

But soon enough, the storm would break. And Dacre intended to be the one left standing.