Chapter Two: Discovery and a Public Humiliation
The air was thick with tension, heavy and almost unbreathable, like the humid stillness before a thunderstorm. I stood frozen, my head bowed over the half-cooked bacon, waiting for the inevitable clap of thunder—Kael Blackwood's rejection.
But the Alpha didn't speak to me again. He spoke to his Beta.
"Bring the pack Physician. We have an unexpected complication."
Complication. That's all I was. A flaw in his perfect genetic lineage, a cosmic joke played on the most powerful Alpha in the North. I could feel the eyes of my pack, the Shadow Creek wolves, burning into the back of my neck—a mixture of smug anticipation and fear. They knew Gareth would relish the spectacle of the Silver Moon Alpha rejecting his Omega.
A moment later, I heard the subtle shuffle of heavy, formal shoes approaching. It was my twin, Elias. He stopped beside me, close enough that I could smell his familiar blend of pine and worry.
"You need to get out of here," he murmured, his voice tight.
"I can't," I breathed back, barely moving my lips. "I haven't served the coffee. Gareth will..."
"To hell with Gareth. He has the scent. His guard is right there." Elias gestured subtly with his eyes toward the door. "He saw. Go. Now. I'll say you were overwhelmed by the pressure."
Before I could argue, a new voice cut through the strained silence. It was Alpha Gareth, sounding unnervingly cheerful.
"Alpha Blackwood, forgive the interruption. My Beta is being overly solicitous of the kitchen staff. Don't let the Omega distract you. She's… unreliable. A failed shifter, a mere human. We keep her only out of obligation to her lineage."
Gareth delivered the explanation like a well-rehearsed punchline, a calculated move to minimize my existence before Kael could utter the rejection.
Kael Blackwood pushed his chair back—the sound was loud enough to make everyone flinch. I braced myself. This was it. The word: reject.
Instead, he stood up, moving with an unnerving, predatory grace that commanded attention. He didn't look at me or Gareth. He looked at Elias, who tensed immediately.
"Your 'solicitous' Beta is correct," Kael's voice was a low, resonant baritone, colder than the deepest winter ice. "That Omega is unreliable. She seems to be trembling. A trembling staff member is inefficient. Alpha Gareth, your hospitality is already under question."
Gareth spluttered, caught off guard. "Sir, I assure you, my pack is well-disciplined. She's just nervous around power."
Kael finally turned his silver gaze onto Gareth. "Nervous? Or injured?"
The color drained from Gareth's face. The kitchen staff, who had been silently peeling vegetables in the corner, seemed to stop breathing entirely.
"Injured? Impossible! We don't tolerate injury or inefficiency, Alpha. She's simply clumsy."
Kael took two steps, closing the distance between his chair and the long serving counter. He didn't look at me, but at a middle-ranking Warrior named Ronan, who stood too close to the serving area. Ronan was one of Gareth's nastiest subordinates, and only yesterday, he had casually thrown a scalding rag at my wrist, leaving a red welt.
Kael stopped in front of Ronan, his massive frame dwarfing the Shadow Creek Warrior.
"My contingent travels thousands of miles. We do not stop for minor injuries. We are not weak," Kael said, his voice deceptively calm. "But I have found that small, chronic injuries in a pack's lowest ranks often indicate a rot at the top."
He didn't need to sniff the air. He just knew.
Without warning, Kael's hand shot out. It didn't touch me. It grabbed Ronan's collar, hauling him forward with such force the man's feet left the ground. Kael pinned him to the wall, his own face dangerously close to the petrified Warrior.
"You," Kael snarled, the Alpha growl finally unleashed, shaking the windows. "You have been careless with my property."
Ronan whimpered, struggling uselessly. "Alpha Blackwood, I don't know what you mean! I barely look at her!"
"You burned her yesterday," Kael stated, his voice flat, factual, terrifying. "Minor, sloppy aggression. The kind that wastes time and resources. I despise waste."
Before anyone could react, Kael delivered a single, calculated punch to Ronan's abdomen. The sound was sickening—a wet, fracturing crack. Ronan dropped to the floor, gasping, curling around the spot where his ribs had just splintered.
Silence. Absolute, petrified silence.
Kael Blackwood straightened his suit jacket, not even looking at the broken man on the floor. He hadn't defended me; he had punished incompetence and the mishandling of resources.
He turned back to Gareth, his silver eyes blazing. "Alpha, I advise you to ensure your pack is flawless until my departure. I do not tolerate evidence of a weak pack when negotiating alliances. And regarding the Omega: I require her to serve only me. She will not be touched by anyone but my own staff until I am gone. Is that understood?"
Gareth, pale and trembling, nodded frantically. "Understood, Alpha Blackwood! Perfectly understood!"
Kael Blackwood had not rejected me. He had done something infinitely more terrifying: he had claimed me, not with a bite, but with a statement of possession.
---
For the rest of the morning, I was a ghost, serving Kael Blackwood under the hyper-vigilant eyes of his Warrior guards. Elias managed to steal a few minutes with me near the drying racks.
"He didn't reject you," Elias whispered, scrubbing a stain out of a pillowcase with unnecessary violence. "He protected you. Why?"
"He said I was his 'property' and didn't like the 'waste' of a minor injury," I muttered, still shaken by Ronan's broken scream.
"No, Em. That locket is doing its job; you are scentless. He shouldn't have been able to confirm the bond, let alone track Ronan's two-day-old attack. He didn't act like a wolf who found a surprising mate. He acted like a collector who found the missing piece of an ancient artifact. Something is wrong."
"We are going ahead with the escape plan," I said, my voice firming up. "I don't trust his protection. He is worse than Gareth. Gareth only wanted to hurt me; Kael wants to own me."
Elias nodded grimly. "Agreed. I have the supply drop arranged for the full moon in three days. Be ready. Now go—he's watching."
I left, only to find Kael's personal Beta, a woman named Lyra, waiting for me by the entrance to the dining hall. She was tall, lean, and wore her own rank with quiet authority.
"The Alpha requires a private luncheon. Prepare light fowl, broth, and wild rice. He is currently resting after the journey. You will deliver it to his private suite in the East Wing."
My blood ran cold. The East Wing was where the highest-ranking guests stayed—far from the kitchens, far from Elias.
"The East Wing is restricted," I said, trying to keep my voice even.
"Not for you. You are his mate, Omega. Or, as he prefers, his complication," Lyra said, her face impassive. She handed me a key card. "Do not be late. And do not, under any circumstances, show fear. He despises weakness."
I spent the next hour preparing the most precise, delicate meal of my life. I wore gloves, terrified of dropping a single grain of rice. The locket was tight around my neck.
When I finally reached the East Wing, the hallway was silent, carpeted in deep velvet. I slid the key card, and the heavy oak door clicked open.
Kael's suite was enormous, overlooking the entire valley. He was sitting on a high-backed leather chair near the window, dressed in fresh, casual clothes. He looked less like a fearsome Alpha and more like a king taking a moment of quiet contemplation.
I placed the tray on a small table, avoiding his eyes. "The meal, Alpha."
He didn't move. "I didn't ask for it to be placed on the table, Omega. Bring it here."
My hands were shaking as I carried the tray across the room. He took the bowl from me, his fingers brushing mine—a brush that sent the familiar, violent shockwave through my system.
"You tremble too much," he observed, taking a careful spoonful of broth.
"I apologize, Alpha. I am unused to serving such..." I trailed off, searching for a word that wouldn't provoke him.
"Such power? You are a non-shifter. I expect no less." He ate slowly, deliberately. "Tell me your name."
"Ember. Ember Thorne."
"A fire and a thorn. An ironic pairing for a vessel of ice." He set the bowl down. "You have no scent."
The accusation hung in the air. My heart hammered against the locket.
"I... I have failed to shift, Alpha. I am human."
"No. You are not human," he corrected sharply. "You are mated to an Alpha Wolf. Your genetics are werewolf. Your scent should be minimal, but present. It is suppressed. How?"
I said nothing, terrified he would rip the locket from my neck.
He didn't need to. He simply reached out and, with a terrifying slowness, touched the fabric of my dress, right where the silver chain lay underneath. The metallic scent was immediately neutralized by the powerful musk of his hand.
"A binding artifact," he murmured, his thumb tracing the shape of the rune through the cloth. "Crude, but effective. Your brother is smarter than I gave him credit for."
He knew about Elias. Of course he knew.
"It is merely a gift, Alpha."
"Don't lie to me, Ember Thorne," he warned, his silver gaze intense. "I didn't come here for an alliance, not really. I came for a debt repayment. And my payment is not money, or land, or resources."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to the intimate, dangerous whisper he'd used on the blurb. "My payment is a specific item Shadow Creek has held for far too long. And you, little fire, are part of that item."
I felt the breath leave my lungs. "I don't understand."
"You will. But not yet." He leaned back, his eyes drifting toward the window. "I won't reject you. You will be claimed. But not with a kiss, a mark, or sex. That is a luxury we cannot afford. You will be claimed with a lie."
He paused, then added: "You will spend the next three days studying the lore of the Silver Moon pack. Find everything you can about the First Alpha's Silver Wolf Prophecy. And when you read it, pay attention to the part about the unblooded female."
My mind reeled. Prophecy? Silver Wolf? Unblooded female?
He stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Now, go. Leave the tray. And take this."
He handed me a small, leather-bound volume. It was an antique journal, unmarked and heavy. I opened it hesitantly. The first page contained nothing but two lines, written in elegant, looping script:
The blood calls. The cage is weak.
They will come for the shards.
Before I could ask what it meant, Kael pressed a rough, cool kiss, not on my lips, but on the back of my hand—the same hand that had served him his food. The gesture was formal, but the resulting spark was anything but.
Then, he looked me dead in the eye, and delivered the first, chilling twist:
"Alpha Gareth is not the one holding the item I seek. Your mother is."