Two days after the cemetery case, Solomon received a message that made his face go still.
They were in the training room, Elijah practicing knife drills. Solomon stared at his phone for a long moment, then set it down.
"The rogue faction knows about you," he said.
Elijah's hands stopped mid‑motion. "How?"
"My contact says they've been asking questions. Someone sold them information. Not just about the prince—about where you are, what you can do." Solomon's jaw tightened. "They want the prince back. And they don't care if you're alive when they take him."
The words hung in the air. Elijah thought of Seraphina, of the way she'd looked at the journals. But he had no proof.
"What do we do?" he asked.
"We train harder. We move faster. And we don't trust anyone outside this room." Solomon picked up a training knife and tossed it to Elijah. "Again."
They drilled for hours. Elijah's body screamed, but he pushed through. The wolf's presence was a steady hum in his chest, lending him endurance. By evening, he could block nine out of ten of Solomon's strikes.
"Better," Solomon said. "Now we add weapons."
He led Elijah to the wall of equipment and handed him a short iron blade. "This is a bane blade. Iron core, silver edge, blessed by a priest I know. It'll cut through most things that go bump in the night."
Elijah weighed it in his hand. It felt right—balanced, natural. The wolf stirred approvingly.
"Now," Solomon said, settling into a fighting stance, "we go hard."
---
Seraphina arrived at the safehouse that evening, unannounced. She found Elijah icing his shoulder in the break room, his arms covered in bruises.
"God, what happened to you?" she asked, her voice full of concern.
"Training accident," Elijah said. "Solomon's intense."
She sat beside him, her knee brushing his. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'm still your partner. If you're in trouble, you can tell me."
Elijah's instincts prickled. "I'm fine. Really."
"Solomon Cross." She said the name slowly. "I looked him up. He's not a PI. He's not even in any database. Who is he, really?"
"He's helping me."
"Is he?" Seraphina leaned closer. "Or is he using you? You've been gone for a week, Elijah. The department thinks you had a breakdown. Your mother called the precinct twice. Don't you think you should check in?"
Guilt twisted in Elijah's chest. He hadn't called his mother. He'd been so consumed by the new world that he'd let the old one slip away.
"I'll call her," he said.
"Do that." Seraphina smiled, but her eyes were calculating. "And be careful who you trust."
She left, and Elijah sat in the quiet room, her words echoing. Be careful who you trust.
The wolf stirred, a low growl in his mind. He didn't know if it was warning him about Solomon or about her.
---
That night, Elijah couldn't sleep. He walked to the window and looked out at the city, his senses stretched wide. The pulse of the breaches was constant now—faint, but present. And beyond that, something else. A presence. Watching.
He reached out with his awareness, trying to pinpoint it. It flickered, elusive, then vanished.
Solomon appeared behind him. "You felt it too."
"What was it?"
"The rogue clan. They're testing our perimeter." Solomon's hand rested on his weapon. "They know we're here. We need to move."
"Where?"
"I have a contact. Someone who might help." Solomon looked at Elijah. "But it means trusting someone new."
Elijah thought of Seraphina's words, her warning about trust. But Solomon had saved his life. Had trained him, protected him.
"Let's do it," Elijah said.
---