Chapter 4 Moon Blood

KAEL  POV

The remaining guards exchanged nervous glances but held their positions, hands hovering near their weapons. Brutus raised a shaking hand, sweat beading on his forehead. "Stand down," he ordered, his voice barely steady. "This is family business."

They reluctantly stepped back, forming a wider circle around the two of us. I appreciated the gesture it would have made killing them more interesting.

"You've changed," Brutus observed, his eyes tracking the various scars across my arms and face. "The Northlands hardened you."

"The Northlands taught me real strength, real leadership." I began circling my uncle slowly, like a wolf stalking a wounded target. "They taught me mercy is a luxury I can't afford."

"Kael, please," Brutus pleaded, pressing himself deeper into the alpha chair. "I'm your blood. Your family."

"My family cast me out to die." I stopped directly before Brutus, looming over the trembling man. "But I didn't die. I became something worthy of this pack."

My claws punched through Brutus's chest with surgical accuracy, finding the heart in one swift motion. The false alpha's eyes went wide with shock and pain, his mouth opening in a silent gasp.

"I became someone who protects what's mine," I whispered, leaning close as life faded from my uncle's eyes.

Brutus's body hit the floor with a wet thud, blood pooling beneath him. The remaining guards tensed but didn't attack, their wolves instinctively recognizing the shift in power—alpha authority had transferred to its rightful owner.

I lifted my head and released a victory howl that shook the entire packhouse, dust raining from the ancient rafters. It was answered by howls across the territory as every wolf recognized their new leader, the sound rolling through the mountains like thunder.

But as the echoes faded, that other scent called to me again.

My mate was here. After eleven years of exile and endless bloodshed, the Moon Goddess had given me the one thing that could heal my scarred soul.

I turned toward the stairs, my enhanced hearing catching the faint sound of chains clinking in the depths below.

But as I descended toward the cellar, another scent hit me that made Fenris freeze in terror.

"Found you."

My voice came out deeper than I intended, carrying satisfaction that made her shiver. I looked down and met terrified eyes that studied me with the wariness of a trapped animal.

This close, her scent was overwhelming. Silver and moonlight and power held dormant. But underneath was something that made Fenris practically purr with contentment.

"What's your name?" I asked.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. It had been weeks since anyone had spoken to her, I could tell. Longer since someone had cared about her answer.

"Your name," I repeated, gentler but no less commanding.

"Lira," she managed to whisper. "Lira Ashborne."

Something flashed in my mind at her surname. Recognition. "Ashborne. Dmitri's daughter."

Shock hit her features. No one had spoken her father's name in years, I could see it in her eyes. "You knew him?"

Instead of answering, I gripped the iron bars of her cell and began pulling them apart with my bare hands.

Metal groaned in protest. The iron that had held her prisoner for twenty years bent and twisted under my grip like clay. My muscles strained against my shirt as she caught glimpses of the intricate scars covering my arms.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, pressing harder against the back wall.

I didn't answer, instead focused on my task. With the final screech of protesting metal, the bars gave way. I tossed them aside like they weighed nothing and stepped into her cell.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. The space that felt cramped with just her now seemed impossibly small. I was tall, broad-shouldered, taking up far too much room with presence alone.

"Don't be afraid," I said, keeping my voice steady though I didn't move closer. "I won't hurt you."

Twenty years of pain had taught her not to believe such promises. She was the pack's scapegoat, their cursed burden.

"Everyone hurts me," she whispered. The words slipped out before she could stop them. "It's what I'm for."

My expression darkened dangerously. "Who told you that?"

"Elder Garrick, the pack." Her throat tightened. "They said I was cursed. That I bring bad luck to everyone around me."

"They lied." My tone carried absolute certainty. "Do you know what you are, Lira Ashborne?"

She shook her head, unable to trust her voice.

"You're the last of the Moonblood line," I said, each word deliberate. "Your ancestors were the most powerful luna wolves in history. They could channel the Moon Goddess's power directly."

"That's impossible." Her voice cracked. "I'm wolfless. I can't even shift."

My gaze dropped to her wrists, where silver shackles had left permanent scars. "How long have you been wearing those?"

She looked down at the restraints, their weight suddenly feeling heavier. "Since I was a child. Elder Garrick said they were necessary to contain the curse."

Understanding dawned in my storm-gray eyes. "Silver doesn't just burn Moonblood wolves, it suppresses their power. You're not wolfless, Lira. You're dormant."

Hope flickered in her chest. "But why are you telling me this? Why do you care what happened to me?"

For a moment, vulnerability crossed my scarred features. "Because you're my mate. And I've spent eleven years in exile learning what it means to protect what's mine."

The words hit her like a punch. Mate. The thing she'd been told she could never have because she was broken, cursed, unworthy. "I don't understand."

"You will." I held out my hand, palm up, careful not to reach for her. "Let me remove the shackles, Lira. Let me give you back what they stole."

She stared at my outstretched hand. Scarred from countless battles, callused from hard living, still stained with my enemies' blood. But something in her recognized it as safety.

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, she lifted her chained hands toward me. But as I reached for her shackles, her eyes went wide with terror.