Amelia's blood ran cold. The phone felt like a block of ice pressed against her ear, yet her body was suddenly ablaze with focused fury. Zoran Vane was killed. The man who had sold them all out, the Alpha who had nearly destroyed the Morvane Kingdom, was dead in their custody.
"Poisoned? Blunt force trauma?" Amelia cursed under her breath, a low, savage sound that was barely human. "Ronan, how did this happen? He was in the deepest holding cells of the Royal Dungeon!"
"Luna, I don't know the specifics. Luna, you need to be here now." Ronan’s voice rose, cracking with genuine fear. "The Royal Guard investigation is about to start. If the King is connected to this—even tangentially—it will look like a politically motivated assassination."
"Kian!" she called, her voice sharp and urgent, cutting through the sound of the running water.
The shower instantly ceased. Kian emerged from the bathroom moments later, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water dripping from his short, dark hair. The gold in his eyes was instantly alert, sharp, and intensely focused on her panicked expression.
"What is it?" he demanded, already crossing the room.
Amelia covered the phone's receiver. "Zoran Vane is dead. Killed in the dungeons in Citadel City. Ronan just got the unofficial confirmation. We need to leave. Now."
Kian nodded once, decisively. His earlier languor was banished, replaced by the relentless drive of the Morvane King facing an unforeseen crisis. He didn't waste a second arguing or processing the shock.
"Get dressed. You call Gareth and Myra," Kian ordered, already pulling on trousers and a simple black tunic. "Tell them exactly what happened. They are to take full, immediate control of all primary command functions and troop readiness. No one leaves the Royal Castle premises except on emergency patrol. This could be a diversion or a declaration. No leaks, no speculation. They handle the Kingdom, we handle the corpse."
Within minutes, they were ready. Amelia placed the call to Gareth, relaying Kian’s precise, concise orders. Gareth, recognizing the gravity of the situation, offered no argument, only a sharp, clear affirmation.
"Understood, Luna. We will hold the line here. Travel safe."
The journey to Citadel City was a blur of speed and silence.
Ronan, a nervous man in a meticulously tailored suit, was waiting for them near the maintenance entrance, his face pale and slick with sweat despite the cool morning air.
"Your Majesties," he managed, bowing low, his hands shaking. "Thank you for coming. Dr. Chen is waiting inside. I tried to stall the official investigation team, but they’re due within the hour. But… there’s something else, Luna."
Amelia’s eyes, already narrowed with stress, sharpened further. "What else, Ronan?"
Ronan swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the massive, obsidian-furred Morvane King standing beside her. "Vane's temporary holding cell was only secured by a skeleton crew. One of the night custodians, a shifter named Theodora—she was implicated in the coup but given a provisional pardon and house arrest."
Amelia frowned. "House arrest? Then why was she at the dungeon?"
"Due to her high-risk pregnancy, the physician argued against transferring her to a long-term facility. She was kept in secured auxiliary staff quarters, technically still under house arrest but within the complex so Dr. Chen could monitor her and the unborn pup. She was supposed to be completely sealed in her quarters near the outer gate." Ronan’s voice dropped to a barely audible level. "King, she’s gone. Completely vanished."
"Vanished? How? She was monitored," Kian growled.
Ronan wrung his hands. "Someone who killed Zoran took her too."
Amelia and Kian exchanged a grim look. Theodora. A known associate of Zoran's during the coup, now physically vulnerable and mysteriously missing. Her disappearance was not merely a breach of security; it pointed to a calculated kidnapping.
"She was either complicit and escaped, or she was silenced and taken for leverage," Amelia deduced immediately.
"Both are bad for us," Kian stated, his gaze hard. "Lead us to the body, Ronan. I want to see the point of entry and the cell. We need to move before the official chaos begins."
Ronan ushered them down into the depths of the dungeon complex. The air grew progressively colder, damp, and smelled of disinfectant and old stone. The final section, the high-security block, was quiet, the corridors lit by flickering emergency lights.
When they reached Cell 14, Dr. Chen, a small, weary man in medical scrubs, stood guard outside. He confirmed Ronan’s grim account and stepped aside.
The sight within the cell was gruesome, yet strangely clinical.
Alpha Zoran Vane was sprawled on the concrete floor, half-covered by a thin, gray blanket. The blunt force trauma had been delivered with monstrous power. The entire side of his head was crushed, utterly ruined, yet there was remarkably little blood splatter. The strike had been precise, silencing, and absolute.
"Look at the entry wound, King," Dr. Chen whispered, pointing to a dark, small puncture on Vane's upper arm, completely separate from the head trauma. "I ran preliminary samples. There was a paralytic neurotoxin in his blood—a fast-acting compound that would paralyze all muscle control, including the vocal cords. He couldn't shift, scream, or struggle. He was sedated and then executed."
Amelia stared at the corpse, a knot forming in her stomach. This wasn't revenge; it was an efficient, cold-blooded statement, executed using a mole like Theodora, who was now also gone. "It was meant to be quick, quiet, and absolutely final."
Kian walked slowly around the body, his golden eyes scanning the cell's bare walls and floor. He didn't look at the corpse; he was looking for the signature. He was searching for the tell-tale sign that would identify the true architect of the war.
He stopped near the far wall. The rough edge of his boot nudged a small, circular object lying in the dust. Kian knelt, his powerful fingers gently picking it up.
It was a coin.
Not currency, but an old-style piece of silver, tarnished with age and dark with dried residue. On one face, a crescent moon was hammered into the metal, sharp and clear. On the reverse, an intricate carving of a wolf’s head, its jaws open in a silent snarl.
Amelia instantly recognized it. "That's not Royal currency. That's ancient. From the early Crescent Pack archives."
Kian’s gaze was fixed on the coin, but the gold in his eyes was blazing with sudden, terrifying recognition. His hand, gripping the small metal disc, shook with restrained power.
"No," Kian muttered, the single word a low, guttural growl that resonated through the dungeon silence. "It's the mark."
Ronan, utterly confused, stepped closer. "The mark, King? What mark?"
"The signature of the Crescent Alpha," Amelia answered, her voice trembling as she finally understood the implications. "The original founder. The only man allowed to use this specific carving. The only man in history to command the power of the first Morvanes."
Kian turned slowly, the fear and confusion on Ronan's face invisible to him. He looked past Amelia, past the body, his focus entirely on the horror of realization.
"This is Marcus's mark," Kian confirmed, the name dropping into the cold air like a stone. "It was his calling card. He used these coins as his personal seal, placing them on his victims to claim credit."
Amelia’s eyes widened in horror. "His own son? And Theodora? Why would he take her?"
Kian's Morvane sense screamed the answer, the gold in his eyes flashing with lethal clarity. "Zoran served his purpose and then became a liability. The escape of Theodora, the execution... it was all planned to show a massive breach. Marcus has returned. He killed his own son to make a declaration. He is here, Amelia. And he just delivered a message: The King's protection means nothing. He took Theodora because she was the weak link, the most vulnerable asset, and now he has leverage over us, or perhaps an entirely new source of power. He never moves without purpose."
The true war had begun.