Chapter 4 Shadows of the past

The echo of Ryker's howl hadn't even faded before Black-fang's entire perimeter flared to life.

Torches lit. Horns blared. Wolves rushed through the courtyards in a blur of fur, steel, and panic. The keep roared with motion.

But none of it could drown out what had stirred in their bones: fear. Ancient, instinctive, and familiar.

Kaida stood frozen at the window. Her breath fogged the glass as the final notes of Ryker's cry faded into the night. Her wolf paced within her, restless, conflicted.

He was close.

Too close.

And she wasn't ready.

A soft knock drew her from the trance. Tessa, the seer's ward, slipped in silently, her pale eyes already knowing.

"I warned you," Tessa said. "The thread tightens."

Kaida turned slowly. "He's not here to test our defenses."

"No," Tessa agreed. "He's here to test you."

In the forest, Ryker stood among his scattered rogues, watching as the keep ignited like a struck match. His plan had worked. The howl wasn't just a threat-it was bait. Now they were scrambling. They didn't know where he was, how many followed him, or when he'd strike.

But this was just a taste.

"Report," Ryker snapped.

Dax approached, winded. "We've scattered scouts across the north ridge and breached the outer sigils. Flame wards are weaker than last cycle. They didn't renew the glyphs on the southern cliff."

"Amateurs," muttered Orren.

"They're comfortable," Ryker said, voice sharp. "Comfort leads to mistakes. And mistakes... lead to slaughter."

He crouched near the fire and picked up a blackened map of the keep and its surroundings, drawn from memory and stolen records. His claw traced a path through the dense woods behind the old crypt tunnels.

"There's our entry. One night. One strike.

We break in, hit the weapons vault, and vanish."

"No blood?" Orren asked, annoyed.

Ryker met his eyes coldly. "Not yet. This is about message, not massacre."

He looked back toward the keep. The place where his name had once meant safety. The place where he'd once believed love could be stronger than politics, stronger than history.

He was wrong.

"Let them know I'm coming. But not when."

Kaida met with the Red Fang squad just before midnight, deep beneath the keep in the war hall. The squad - handpicked killers, born in blood and trained in the dark - knelt before her in perfect silence.

"Ryker's not a man anymore," she told them. "He's something worse. He's a wound. A storm that's been festering since the night we turned our backs."

The leader of the Red Fangs, a grim woman named Velra, rose.

"Then we end the storm."

Kaida nodded, but her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

They didn't understand.

This wasn't about retribution.

It was personal.

Flashback.

Two years earlier.

Kaida knelt in the snow outside Blackfang's gates, barely conscious, her face bloodied, her ribs cracked. Her rogue pack had abandoned her.

The last thing she remembered was the sound of wolves dying around her. And then... silence.

Until he came.

Ryker.

The infamous Alpha. The monster. The warrior who had carved out Blackfang with his claws and forged peace with his fists.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing and carried her inside.

"You're safe now," he whispered.

That was the first lie.

The second was when she looked into his eyes and let herself believe she'd never betray him.

Now, Kaida sat in her private chamber, staring at her reflection. The scars on her side still throbbed whenever she thought of that night.

Ryker had saved her... only for her to become the blade they used to destroy him.

She reached for the obsidian dagger again. Its edge gleamed like midnight oil.

If he came for her - truly came - she'd need more than regrets to survive.

She'd need to finish what she started.

Ryker stood at the edge of the southern cliff by dawn.

Below lay the crypt path - a forgotten tunnel that once served as a smuggler's escape. It was weakly warded, nearly collapsed, but his scouts had confirmed it was still passable.

He crouched.

Let the cold bite.

Let the pain feed him.

Then he whispered, "Let me in."

A faint growl stirred within him. His wolf. Still weak, still shackled, but waking.

Let me in, the wolf echoed back.

"Soon," Ryker said aloud.

Behind him, his rogues prepared in silence. No war cries. No chest-beating. Just sharpened blades, blood-painted armor, and eyes that hadn't known peace in years.

Dax approached.

"Tonight?"

Ryker nodded. "The crypt. We go through. We hit the vaults. We steal back what's ours."

"And her?" Dax asked hesitantly.

Ryker paused.

"She gets to watch," he said coldly. "Every wall crumble. Every secret exposed. Every truth she buried dragged screaming into the light."

He stood tall against the breaking dawn.

"She wanted a monster," he growled. "So I'll give her one."