Chapter 1 Scent Of Ash And Blood

The air smelled of blood before the first scream came.

It was faint at first-just a note on the wind. A copper tang beneath the scent of pine and storm-damp earth. The trees whispered restlessly, their branches swaying in rhythm with something ancient and disturbed. Rhea Voss stood at the ridge above the valley, her boots coated in dust, her breath shallow, her body still. Listening.

Not watching.

Listening was how you survived in Ashen Fang territory. You listened to the wind, the birds, the way silence settled like a predator. Sight could lie. Sound never did.

And right now... the woods were too quiet.

Behind her, the scouting party shifted impatiently. Four wolves in human form, each battle-tested, each older than her-and yet they waited for her signal. Because she was the one with the instinct. The one the Alpha trusted. The Ghost Wolf, they called her. Silent. Efficient. Lethal.

But tonight, something felt off.

The scent came again. Stronger now. Not just blood. Burning.

And something else.

Silver.

Rhea's lips parted, a curse barely forming. "Move."

She was already sprinting down the incline before the others reacted, her muscles moving like memory. She didn't need to shift. Not yet. She needed clarity. Precision.

The trees thinned as she descended into the valley, the undergrowth torn up in chaotic patterns-signs of a struggle, too recent for comfort. Her foot caught something soft, and she skidded to a halt.

A body.

Eyes wide. Throat torn.

Ashen Fang.

"Shit," muttered Jorik behind her, kneeling to inspect the fallen packmate.

"Burn marks on the wounds," Rhea murmured, voice flat. "Silver-lined blades."

"Poachers?" someone asked.

She didn't answer. Poachers didn't get this deep into Velmorra. Not without dying. No. This was a message.

She felt it in her bones before she saw the second body-this one wasn't Ashen Fang. This one wore the pale grey tunic of Silver Hollow.

Her breath caught.

This wasn't a random kill.

This was war.

---

They gathered the bodies before dawn. The others argued about whether to take them home or burn them. Rhea stood still through it all, her thoughts miles away.

Why was a Silver Hollow wolf here? Why was his blood mingled with one of their own?

More importantly, why had they killed each other?

Unless...

Unless someone else had orchestrated it.

Her jaw tensed.

Kael needed to hear this.

And she needed answers.

---

Back at camp, the Ashen Fang stronghold rose like a jagged scar in the valley's stone spine-blackened timber walls, iron gates, and the scent of smoke ever lingering. It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't meant to be. It was a fortress. A warning.

Rhea passed through the gates without speaking, her boots echoing against the damp stone. She ignored the curious stares, the murmurs. Let them whisper. She had no time for wolves who barked louder than they bit.

She found Kael in the war hall.

He was alone, as he often was before battle. Sitting in the high-backed chair carved from dark oak, shadows hugging his form like armor. His eyes flicked to her the moment she entered-cold, sharp, unreadable.

"Speak," he said.

Rhea tossed the bloodied Silver Hollow tunic onto the table.

That got his attention.

Kael rose slowly, his gaze never leaving the cloth. "Where?"

"East ridge. Border valley. Two dead. One of ours. One of theirs."

"A kill-for-kill?" he asked. "Or something else?"

"They weren't fighting each other. Someone staged it."

His jaw tightened. "You're sure?"

She nodded. "Too clean. Too fast. Silver Hollow doesn't waste bodies. They bury. Honor."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Then they're sending a message."

"Or someone wants us to think they are."

He was quiet for a moment, studying her, as if weighing her words. Then: "I want you on this."

Rhea's brow lifted. "On what?"

"Silver Hollow."

Her pulse slowed. "You want me to go there?"

"I want you to get close. Find out what they're hiding."

She said nothing.

"Rhea," he said, stepping closer, his voice soft but cold as winter steel, "do you trust me?"

She didn't answer. Not right away.

Finally: "Always."

He nodded once. "Then do this for me."

---

She left that night.

No fanfare. No goodbyes. That wasn't the Ashen Fang way.

She rode north beneath a bleeding moon, through the forests where shadows whispered her name, and wolves watched from the trees.

Toward Silver Hollow.

Toward the heart of enemy territory.

And toward a man she did not know yet...

But whose presence would change the path of her life-and the fate of every wolf in Velmorra.