Chapter 4 Council of Wolves (Lucian Kane's POV)

I stepped into the dim glow of the cavernous chamber, the scent of damp stone and burning torches filling my lungs. Every eye in the circle turned to me-their alpha's silhouette outlined against the flickering runes carved into the walls. My pulse thrummed beneath the heavy mantle of responsibility I'd worn since I was sixteen. Tonight, I would face the Council of Wolves, and decide Celia Blake's fate.

Aric Hollow sat to my left, his silver-gray fur bristling with anticipation. He caught my gaze and nodded once-steady, unspoken support in the sea of skeptical faces. Across from me sat Marcellus, the pack's oldest elder, his white-furred muzzle tight with disapproval. A dozen warriors and seers flanked the stone dais where I stood, their silent questions hanging between us like razor-sharp teeth.

I cleared my throat, feeling the weight of centuries-old tradition pressing down on my shoulders. "Thank you for assembling at this hour," I began, voice echoing. "Our borders have been violated. Three of my pack were found dead outside the sanctuary, their bodies... desecrated." I let that word settle. Blood debts run deeper than steel, and packs remember slights for generations.

Aric rose beside me. "Alpha," he said, "the beasts carry marks-Ancient Draven runes burned into their flanks. This is no ordinary attack." He gestured to the leather pouch I'd opened earlier, releasing a faint sulfuric scent. A trader had delivered it moments ago: a scrap of pelt stitched with those same runes, imbued with dark magic.

A murmur rippled through the council. Morwenna, our seer, lifted her hood. Her eyes-blank and glassy-refused to meet mine. "The prophecy stirs," she whispered. "A bloodline long thought broken bleeds anew. They hunt for what was lost."

I pressed my palm against the carved stone behind me, steel finding purchase in the rough carvings. "They hunt for Celia Blake," I said. Silence crashed down. Some scoffed at the human's name; others shifted uneasily. Celia-mortal, reckless, yet tied to me by destiny's invisible chains.

Marcellus leaned forward, claws tapping carved oak. "Celia Blake trespasses on sacred ground. She bears a silver talisman linked to our greatest shame. She is a liability." His voice slid over the council like ice.

I steadied my breath. "She's not a threat. She's my mate." A collective gasp rose. "Bond or not, she's owed our protection. Ash Draven seeks to use her bloodline. If we abandon her..." I let the sentence hang. Wolves are bound by honor. Betrayal of a mate invites ruin.

Aric stood, shoulders squared. "Alpha's will stands. We hunt Draven first, protect Miss Blake second." A low growl of approval rolled around the chamber.

Marcellus's lips curled. "And what of the Council's Code? No half-breeds, no outsiders-"

I silenced him with a lift of my hand. "Our Code also demands we guard the innocent. And if our crosshairs mark the innocent as prey, we have nothing but ruin ahead." I met his icy stare. "Tonight, we act. Pack, prepare the wards. Morwenna, strengthen the seals around your sanctuary. Aric, gather our warriors. I will go to her."

Eyes flickered between obedience and doubt. Still, they rose to their paws, bowed heads, and scattered into the torchlit corridors beyond the chamber. Only Aric lingered, his gaze unwavering.

"Are you sure?" he asked as the door clanged shut behind the last warrior.

I drew a slow breath. "She's out there alone. I can't wait for the next body."

He nodded, worry etched in every line of his features. "Then let's move."

---

The tunnel that led to the surface smelled of wet earth and distant traffic-human and wolf worlds colliding in the underpass. Aric fell silent beside me, fingers brushing the hilt of his blade. I flexed my wrist, feeling the leather grip beneath my coat.

Above ground, the city's neon pulse beat through cracked concrete. I didn't pause. My strides swallowed the alley's length in two steps, and I emerged beneath the red glare of the ELYSIAN sign. Its glowing letters cut through rain mist like a neon brand. I scanned the emptiness-no body, no sign of struggle. Just the echo of my boots in the damp corridor.

Then I heard it: the soft scrape of a sneaker against concrete. I halted. Aric froze, too. My eyes flicked to the end of the alley, where shadows coiled beneath a flickering streetlight. I crouched, muscles coiling like springs.

"Lucian," a female voice hissed behind me. Marisol. She slipped into view, rain dripping from her curls. "I monitored Celia's tracker. She went deeper-toward the old textile mill." She held up my phone. The marker blinked inside the ruined building across the street.

I exhaled, relief and dread warring in my chest. "Then that's where I'm heading." I nodded at Aric. "Stay here with Morwenna's wards. I'll handle the rest."

Marisol pressed my arm. "Be careful."

I met her worried gaze. "Always." And then I vanished into the maze of backstreets.

---

The textile mill loomed like a skeleton: broken windows, rusted girders, and walls spattered with graffiti-ancient glyphs half-erased by time. I slipped through a crumbling side entrance, boots silent on shattered tile. Shadows pooled around the jagged machinery, and the taste of old oil mixed with damp stone.

A faint light glimmered ahead-a door left ajar. I pushed it open with my shoulder and stepped into the main floor, where massive looms stood silent and still. Moonlight filtered through broken skylights, cutting beams of silver into dust-laden air.

Footsteps clicked beyond the machinery. I felt it in my bones-danger coiled just out of sight. My grip tightened on my knife. As I moved between the looms, I spotted Celia's jacket hanging from a rusted hook, shredded and stained. My throat tightened.

"Celia!" I called, voice low but urgent.

Silence answered. Then, a muted groan. I followed the sound to a darkened corner draped in oilskins. The silhouette of a human form slumped against a metal drum. I froze-only to see her head jerk up, eyes wide with fear and defiance.

"Lucian," she whispered, and relief washed me forward.

Before I could reach her, a sharp click echoed-a gun being cocked. I spun. Ash Draven emerged from the shadows, silver hair glinting beneath the moonbeam. He leveled a pistol at Celia's temple. The harsh gleam of cold steel froze my blood.

"Looking for me, Alpha?" Ash's voice was silk dipped in venom. "You arrived precisely when I intended."

My jaw clenched. Every instinct screamed to lunge, but one wrong move and Celia would die. I crouched, muscles tensed for a strike. "Let her go."

He laughed, quiet and cruel. "Or what? You'll kill me? Then what of the prophecy, Kane? What of the power you fear?"

Celia's eyes flicked to me, jaw set. I could taste the electricity in the air-the bond between us flaring to life. Ash's finger twitched on the trigger. Time slowed.

I advanced, blade in hand-slow, deliberate. The sweat on my palm shimmered in the moonlight. I was his alpha; I would protect her, no matter the cost.

Ash tilted his head, gun unwavering. "Come and get her, Alpha."

I lunged-and the world detonated in a single heartbeat.