Dawn breaks cold and gray when the scouts find us. Three Nightshade wolves emerge from the trees. The lead scout stops when she sees us.
"Kieran. You're alive." Relief flashes across her face. "Alpha Darius sent search parties."
"Almost didn't make it," Kieran says. "We need to get back to camp."
The scouts lead us through dense forest. An hour brings us to Nightshade's main settlement. Warriors watch our approach with suspicious eyes.
Alpha Darius waits in the central lodge. When we enter, he stands immediately.
"Kieran. Ardena." He grips Kieran's shoulder. "We heard about the grain mill ambush."
"Ashrock's trap," Kieran says.
Darius gestures to seats near the fire. "Ashrock's been aggressive. Three border skirmishes in two weeks."
"He's planning something bigger," Kieran says.
"Which is why I'm offering to act first." Darius looks between us. "We hit them before they're ready."
"No." Kieran's voice is flat. "We defend. We don't invade."
"Defend?" A warrior scoffs. "They killed seventeen of our wolves. And you want to wait?"
"I want justice," Kieran says. "If we attack first, we become the rogues they called us. But if we gather evidence, present it to the Council of Alphas—"
"They'll never answer," the warrior interrupts. "Alphas protect their own."
"Not if the evidence is damning enough."
Arguments erupt. Darius raises his hand for silence.
"The question is evidence." He looks at me. "You lived among them. What do we have?"
All eyes turn to me.
"I found records in the archives. Evidence of a child survivor from the massacre. Me. But the files were incomplete."
"Not enough," Darius says.
"There's more. Ashrock was Beta to Rhys's father too. He's been in power for over twenty years."
"Which means he could have orchestrated the massacre," Kieran says.
"Could have isn't proof." A warrior crosses her arms. "We need something undeniable."
"Then let me get it."
Kieran turns to me. "What?"
"I know Ironvale. The patrols, the schedules, where they keep documents." I meet Darius's eyes. "Let me prove myself."
"Absolutely not," Kieran says. "You just escaped."
"I'm not suggesting she infiltrate alone." Darius studies me. "Perhaps Ardena could lead a raid."
The room goes quiet.
"She's Ironvale's former Luna," someone mutters. "How do we know she won't betray us?"
I stand, facing the council. "I'm Bloodfang. The chieftain's daughter, stolen and raised by wolves who murdered my family. I want Ashrock to answer for what he's done."
Darius nods slowly. "There's a supply convoy leaving Ironvale tomorrow at dawn. We've been monitoring it."
"I'll lead the interception," I say.
"With a Nightshade unit," Darius corrects.
"Fine."
That night, I meet the unit. Six Nightshade warriors, all experienced.
"Rules are simple," the unit leader—Torsten—says. "You follow orders. You prove yourself or you get left behind."
"Understood."
We leave before dawn. The convoy route runs through a narrow pass. We position ourselves on high ground.
The convoy appears an hour after sunrise. Three wagons, eight guards. I recognize them immediately.
"On my signal," Torsten whispers.
I shift. The others shift around me.
Torsten howls.
We attack.
The ambush is brutal and efficient. I take down one guard—a young male I remember from training. He recognizes me mid-fight.
"Luna?"
I pin him, jaws at his throat. Don't kill. Just disable.
Within minutes, it's over. Guards are disarmed, corralled together.
I shift back to human. One of them—Mira's older brother, barely eighteen—looks at me with confusion.
"Luna Ardena? What are you doing with these rogues?"
"They're not rogues. They're Nightshade."
"But Alpha Rhys said you were kidnapped."
"Rhys lied. Or Ashrock lied to Rhys."
Torsten approaches, blade drawn. "We should kill them. Send a message."
"No." I stand between him and the guards. "They're just following orders."
"They're the enemy."
"They're children." I meet his eyes. "We take the supplies and documents. But we let them live."
"That's not your call."
"I'm making it anyway. You want me to prove I'm Bloodfang? We don't slaughter people just because we can."
Torsten stares at me. Then he sheathes his blade. "Darius will hear about this."
"I'm counting on it."
When we reach camp, Torsten reports immediately to Darius. "She let them go. All of them. Said we don't kill just because we can."
The council chamber falls silent. All eyes on me.
"You showed weakness," a warrior says. "Those guards will report back. Now Ironvale knows we're raiding convoys."
"They already knew," I counter. "This wasn't the first raid. But now those guards go back with a message: Nightshade doesn't slaughter for sport. We're not the monsters Ironvale claims we are."
"Or you're too soft," another warrior says. "Too conflicted. We can't trust you in a real fight."
"Then trust this." I pull documents from my pack—papers we took from the convoy. Letters sealed with Ashrock's crest. I spread them across the table.
"Correspondence between Ashrock and Elder Corvin. Read them."
Darius picks up the first letter. His expression darkens as he reads. "This discusses 'completing what we started fifteen years ago.'"
"Keep reading."
Another letter mentions "eliminating the Nightshade problem before they unite with Bloodfang remnants." A third discusses "rightful territory" and "correcting past failures."
"Ashrock isn't just planning raids," I say. "He's planning to finish what he started with Bloodfang. Nightshade is next."
The room erupts. Warriors shouting, demanding action. Darius raises his hand for silence.
"This is evidence. But it's vague. Coded. Not enough for a formal accusation before the Council of Alphas."
"Then we get more," Kieran says. "We dig deeper. Find something undeniable."
"We may not have time," Darius says grimly. "If Ashrock is moving against us—"
A howl cuts through the debate. Long, desperate, wrong. The Ironvale distress call, but twisted with panic.
Everyone freezes.
"That's from the southern border," Torsten says.
We rush outside. Through the trees, a figure crashes toward camp. Running. Stumbling. Bloodied.
She collapses at the camp's edge just as we reach her.
Sera.
Her face is streaked with blood. Her arm hangs at a wrong angle, clearly broken. Her clothes are torn, exposing cuts and bruises.
"Sera!" I drop beside her. "What happened?"
Healers rush forward, but she grabs my arm with her good hand. Her grip is iron-strong despite her injuries.
"Ashrock," she gasps. "He's done it. He's overthrown Rhys."