The Crimson Moon den felt like a crucible, its shadowed chambers pulsing with tension as the dawn light filtered through the broken skylights, casting pale beams across the cold concrete. I lay on the furs in my alcove, the silver wound on my flank throbbing with a relentless ache, white streaks in my dark fur glinting like warnings in the dim torchlight. The caged wolf’s pained cry still echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain that mingled with the howl’s persistent pull, tugging at my soul like a chain I couldn’t break. Fatigue dragged at me, but my thoughts churned—Marcus’s trap in the grove, the Silver Cross’s ambush, and Selena’s chilling prophecy about my destiny under Fenrir’s shadow.

  The pack link hummed softly, a quiet thread of concern and resolve weaving through my consciousness. Lyra’s mental voice buzzed with restless energy, “That caged wolf, Aiden—it’s got to be one of ours, right? Marcus is using it to draw you out, but we’ll get it back. I know we will!” Her amber eyes had sparkled with determination when we returned, but I saw the worry beneath, mirrored in Bren’s steady brown gaze. “You made the right call, Aiden,” Bren had said, her voice calm but firm in my mind. “Retreating saved us, but that wolf’s cry… it’s a message. We can’t let Marcus win.”

  I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp pain in my flank, the white streaks catching the light as I moved toward the main chamber. Liam met me halfway, his midnight fur tense, his golden eyes shadowed with worry but softened by gratitude. “Aiden,” he said aloud, his voice rough, breaking the silence. “My sister’s stronger, but she’s still haunted by what the Silver Cross did. That caged wolf you heard—it could be another victim, or a trap to lure you deeper. I owe you for saving her, but I’m terrified Marcus isn’t finished.”

  His words tightened the ache in my chest, the guilt over the caged wolf’s suffering mixing with the fear of what Marcus might do next. The organ thefts—rumors of Silver Cross experiments harvesting werewolf essence, possibly linked to Liam’s sister and that caged wolf—felt like a shadow tightening around us. I remembered the hunters in the grove, their wolfsbane nets and silver traps, their cold efficiency, and Marcus’s taunt about using my bloodline to crush the Crimson Moon. It was a connection I couldn’t ignore, a thread pulling me deeper into this war.

  “I’ll find out, Liam,” I said, my voice steady despite the fatigue dragging at me. “We’ll free that wolf, stop Marcus, and end this. But I need to heal, and we need a plan. Selena’s right—this isn’t over.”

  He nodded, his expression softening, but the worry remained, a shadow in his gaze. “Selena’s called another meeting,” he added, his mental voice low. “She wants to strategize, figure out Marcus’s next move, and… your role in this prophecy. She thinks the howl and that caged wolf are tied to your destiny, something bigger than we know.”

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  The mention of Selena sent a jolt through me, her silver eyes flashing in my memory, her voice resonant with authority and expectation. I moved to the main chamber, the pack gathered around the fire pit, its flames casting flickering shadows across their lupine forms. Kael lay nearby, his midnight fur bandaged, his golden eyes dim but focused, a quiet strength beneath his wounds. Selena stood at the center, her silver eyes scanning the room, her presence commanding silence. “Aiden of Fenrir,” she said, her mental voice sharp and clear, drawing every eye to me. “You faced Marcus’s snare and retreated wisely, but that caged wolf’s cry persists, and the Silver Cross grows bolder. It’s a message—or a victim. We must act, but with precision.”

  I met her gaze, my golden eyes burning with resolve, though my body ached with every movement. “What do we do, Alpha?” I asked, my voice rough but steady. “The howl’s pulling me back to the grove, but it’s a trap—Marcus’s doing, or the Silver Cross’s. That caged wolf… it’s one of ours, a young Beta, Bren said. And the organ thefts—Liam’s sister, that wolf—they might be connected to their experiments.”

  Selena’s expression remained unreadable, but her mental voice carried a weight of urgency. “The howl and the caged wolf are tied to your bloodline, Aiden—the prophecy of the Golden Eyes, Fenrir’s legacy, and the blood moon’s power. They may lead to our origins, but they could also be Marcus’s weapon or the Silver Cross’s trap. We track them, but strategically. Lyra, Bren, prepare the scouting party again. Aiden, you lead, but heal—we cannot risk your weakness against Marcus’s treachery.”

  Lyra’s amber eyes lit up, her mental voice buzzing with excitement. “Another mission! I’m ready, Aiden—let’s track that howl, free that wolf, and show Marcus we’re not backing down!” Bren nodded, her brown eyes steady, her mental voice calm but firm. “We’ll protect you, Aiden, but pace yourself. The silver wound and those streaks… they’re a warning. We need you strong for what’s coming.”

  I felt their trust surge through the pack link, a quiet warmth that bolstered my resolve, but the weight of Selena’s words pressed down on me. Destiny. Origins. Trap. The howl echoed in my mind again, softer now, but no less insistent, pulling me toward the grove’s shadows, toward a danger I couldn’t yet face head-on. I thought of Vivian, her silver eyes and cryptic warning, the promise of a cure for my mother and my wound—but at what cost? A sacrifice I couldn’t yet fathom.

  “We leave at dusk,” I said, my mental voice firm, though fatigue tugged at me. “I’ll rest, sharpen my senses, but I won’t let Marcus or the Silver Cross win. Not while my pack needs me, not while that wolf’s cry echoes, not while my mother’s life hangs in the balance.”

  Selena nodded, a flicker of approval in her silver eyes, but her mental voice carried a final, chilling note. “Be vigilant, Aiden. The howl may lead to salvation or destruction, and Marcus knows it. The Silver Cross hunts us, and your bloodline makes you their prime target. Choose wisely—this could be the spark that ignites our war.”

  As the pack dispersed, I returned to my alcove, sinking into the furs, the silver wound’s ache a constant companion. I closed my eyes, the dawn light dancing behind my lids, the howl’s echo a whisper in my soul. I thought of my mother, her frail form, the rash spreading, a silent plea for help I couldn’t ignore. I thought of the caged wolf, its pained cry, and Liam’s sister, free but scarred, and the pack’s trust, their faith in me as Alpha-born. And I thought of the Crimson Moon, its survival resting on my shoulders, the prophecy’s shadow stretching ahead, a path I couldn’t escape.

  Dusk fell, the den’s torches casting long shadows as I joined Lyra and Bren at the entrance. The howl sounded again, a distant call that drew me toward the grove, toward a destiny I feared but couldn’t resist. The Crimson Moon’s fate, my mother’s cure, and the truth of that caged wolf awaited me—and as I stepped into the night, I knew the war with Marcus and the Silver Cross was drawing closer, its chains of destiny binding me to Throne of Thorns.