Chapter Four: A Taste of Betrayal

Sage’s heart pounded as she and Kieran slipped into the shadows of the corridor, their footsteps silent against the cold stone. The moment they were clear of the Archives, Kieran yanked her into a dark alcove, pressing a finger to his lips.

She barely had time to register his closeness before voices filled the hall.

“…the lock was broken,” a gruff voice muttered. “Someone was here.”

Sage recognized the voice immediately—Garrick, one of Ronan’s most trusted enforcers. If he caught them, there’d be no explaining their way out of this.

Kieran tensed beside her, his body radiating heat,his heart beating fast. She held her breath, willing the shadows to keep them hidden.

The footsteps passed. Then silence.

Kieran exhaled softly. “That was close.”

Sage shot him a glare. “This is your fault.”

His brows lifted. “My fault? I wasn’t the one breaking into restricted areas.”

“You were the one lurking in the dark like some creep.”

He smirked. “Admit it, you were impressed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Kieran’s expression shifted, the teasing edge fading. “Sage. That book… it’s dangerous.”

She hugged it to her chest and stuck her lower lip out, like a stubborn toddler. “Then I need to know why.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a sharp exhale, he nodded. “Fine. But not here.”

---

A Secret Meeting

They ran through the forest, their wolves begging for release beneath their skin. The moon was suddenly high again, casting silver light over the treetops. Sage followed Kieran deeper into Nightclaw territory, further than she had ever dared to go. She knew the risk....she still remembered what had happened the last time she had been here.

When they finally stopped, they were in a clearing surrounded by jagged rocks. It was eerily quiet.

Kieran turned to her, expression serious. “No one can know we spoke here.”

Sage frowned. “Why?”

“Because if my father finds out I’m helping you, he’ll see it as a betrayal.”

Sage’s stomach twisted. She had known that this whole working with Kieran was dangerous. But hearing it out loud made it feel all too real.

She met his gaze. “Tell me what you know.”

Kieran exhaled. “The symbol in that book… it’s tied to a faction that existed before our packs were even formed. Wolves who weren’t just rogues—but something else.”

Sage frowned. “Something else?”

His jaw tightened. “They weren’t just outcasts. They were changed.”

A chill ran down her spine. “Changed how?”

Kieran hesitated, then reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to her.

She unfolded it, her breath hitching.

It was a sketch of a wolf—but its eyes were black pits, its mouth lined with too many teeth.

“This is what attacked your warrior,” Kieran said quietly. “And if we don’t figure out what they want… we’re next.”

Before Sage could respond, a rustling sound came from the trees.

They weren’t alone.

A growl rumbled from the darkness.

Kieran reacted first, shoving Sage behind him just as a massive form lunged from the shadows.

The rogue wasn’t like the ones she had seen before. Its body was too thin, its eyes gleaming with unnatural hunger. It moved wrong—jerky, twisted.

Then it attacked.

Sage barely had time to shift before it crashed into Kieran, sending him sprawling.

Her wolf surged forward. She moved on instinct, lunging for the rogue’s exposed side. Her claws raked across its ribs, blackened blood spraying onto the ground.

The rogue shrieked, twisting unnaturally before launching itself at her.

Too fast.

Its claws raked across her shoulder, searing pain shooting through her. She staggered, but before it could strike again, Kieran was there.

His wolf tackled it to the ground, jaws snapping.

For a moment, they struggled. Then—Kieran ripped the rogue’s throat out.

It fell limp.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sage panted, her vision swimming. Blood soaked her arm, the pain sharp and unrelenting.

Kieran shifted back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His golden eyes met hers, something unreadable in their depths.

Then, before either of them could speak—

Another growl.

Not from the trees.

From the shadows behind her.

Her blood ran cold.

She turned—just as claws sliced toward her throat.