Chapter Two: Uneasy Alliances

The body was already cold.

Sage stood over the lifeless body of the Silverfang warrior, her stomach tight as the scent of blood thickened in the air. The rogue attack wasn’t just random—it was calculated. She could see and feel it in the way the body had been left, and the deliberate placement of the strange symbol carved into the dirt.

She stole a glance at Kieran. He was staring at the mark too, his brows furrowed, his jaw clenched.

For the first time since meeting him, she saw something other than arrogance in his expression.

Concern, maybe?

Sage exhaled, steadying herself. “We need to take this to Ronan.”

Kieran didn’t argue. That, more than anything, unsettled her, that he did not have anything to say back.

Without another word, he crouched, gripping the body by the arms. Sage took the legs, and together, they began the long trek back to Silverfang territory.

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It was a little over midnight when they got back to her territory, and Ronan was waiting when they arrived.

The moment they crossed the border, Silverfang warriors emerged from the shadows, their eyes flashing with unease at the sight of the body. Sage barely had time to step forward before her brother was at her side, his nostrils flaring.

“What happened? Why would you bring him this far into our territory?” Ronan’s voice was sharp, his gaze flickering from her to Kieran. And then, he saw the lifeless body at Sage's feet, and he looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Rogue attack,” Sage said, crouching next to the body on the ground. Using her finger, she re traced the symbol that was carved in the dirt. “And it wasn’t random.”

Ronan also crouched, studying the mark. His frown deepened. “This…” His fingers traced the outline. “I’ve seen this before.”

Sage exchanged a glance with Kieran. “You have?”

Ronan hesitated.

Sage’s pulse quickened. “Ronan.”

His shoulders tensed, but after a long moment, he exhaled. “It was years ago. Before your parents died.”

The air between them shifted.

Ronan rarely spoke of her parents’ deaths. In fact, nobody ever did. It was something neither of them dared to touch—an open wound that had never truly healed.

Sage took a slow breath. “Tell me.”

Ronan’s gaze darkened. “Your father had mentioned an enemy greater than the Nightclaws. He believed something else was moving in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. This mark”—his fingers curled into a fist—“was his proof.”

Sage’s heart pounded.

Her father knew.

And yet…

“If he knew, why didn’t he warn the pack?”

“He tried.” Ronan’s voice was grim. “But before he could act—he was dead.”

The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Sage felt her fingers tremble. She curled them into fists.

This wasn’t just an attack.

It was connected to everything.

She could feel Kieran’s eyes on her, but she didn’t dare look at him. Not now. Not when everything she had believed about the past was beginning to crumble.

Ronan straightened. “We’ll increase patrols along the borders. I’ll speak to the Elders. We need to be ready if this escalates.” His gaze shifted to Kieran, hard and unyielding. “And you. What does your pack know about this?”

Kieran didn’t flinch. “Nothing.”

Ronan’s expression darkened.

“Yet,” Kieran added. “But they will.”

Something flickered in Ronan’s gaze, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded. “Go. Tell your Alpha what’s happening.”

Sage watched as Kieran turned, disappearing into the night.

And for the first time, she wondered if she had been fighting the wrong enemy all along.