Aria
Fire has a voice. It screams. It roared through the healer’s den like a beast unleashed, greedy and wild, consuming everything in its path. The air turned to smoke in my lungs. The floor cracked beneath my feet. Heat blistered against my skin. And for a second—I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
But Matthew did.
He shifted in an instant—dark fur exploding from his skin, his massive wolf form lunging between me and the flames. His body pressed against mine, shielding me as the fire licked closer. The window behind us shattered, heat forcing it to explode outward. He growled, low and desperate, and nudged me with his snout.
“Go,” I whispered, coughing. “Matthew, please—go!”
He nudged me again, harder this time, and I stumbled toward the back of the room, where the smoke was thinner and the wooden wall had already begun to crack from the heat. He shifted back into human form just long enough to hoist me up and shove me through the window.
We tumbled into the snow outside. Cold air slammed into my chest. I gasped, coughing, choking, clutching Matthew’s arm as he rolled beside me, burning across his back and shoulders.
The healer’s den blazed behind us. The building that once kept me safe was now ash.
This wasn’t an accident. This was a message. And it had Ryle’s name all over it.
By sunrise, the entire pack was gathered in the main clearing. Whispers filled the air like fog—panicked, fractured, unsure. They’d all seen the fire. Heard the rumors. I felt fear.
And now they watched.
Matthew stepped forward—shirtless, bruised, and singed from the flames. His mate mark glowed at his neck, and the firelight from the torches reflected in his eyes like molten gold.
I stood just behind him, my arms wrapped around my ribs, every inch of me aching—but alive.
Matthew didn’t speak at first. He just looked around the clearing, letting the silence settle.
Then his voice rang out—loud, clear, and sharp.
“Anyone who lays a finger on my mate will bleed for it.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some lowered their eyes. Others looked toward the Alpha.
Ryle stepped forward, his expression a perfect storm of anger and disbelief. “You think you can stand here and defy me?”
Matthew didn’t flinch.
“I’m still your Alpha,” Ryle growled. “You’re still under my authority, boy.”
Matthew reached up slowly, pulled the Blue Stone crest from his neck, and held it in his fist.
Then he threw it to the ground. It hit the stone with a clink that felt like thunder.
“Not anymore.”
The clearing exploded in chaos. Some warriors stepped back, shocked. Others looked to their left, their right—unsure where to stand. A few—just a few—walked toward Matthew, shoulder to shoulder.
Elias appeared beside me, silent but steady, nodding once. “You did this,” he whispered to me. “You made them see you.”
I didn’t feel proud. I felt terrified.
That night, the Pack House was no longer one house. It was two. Divided. Broken.
I sat on the edge of Matthew’s bed, wrapped in a blanket, burns bandaged, heart heavy.
Matthew leaned against the wall across from me, arms crossed over his bare chest, his face unreadable.
“So,” I said finally, “you’re really doing this.”
He nodded.
“Going against your father. Splitting the pack. All of it… for me?”
His eyes met mine—fierce, dark, raw.
“Why now?” I asked, voice trembling. “Why fight for me after everything?”
He stepped forward slowly, then dropped to one knee in front of me.
“Because you were the only thing in this pack I ever wanted,” he said quietly, “that wasn’t handed to me.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
“I didn’t earn you,” he whispered. “But I’ll spend whatever’s left of me trying to deserve you.”
I reached for him. And for the first time—it felt real. Not power. Not politics. Just us. But fate doesn’t rest. Not for long. Because the door slammed open.
A warrior rushed in, breathless, eyes wide.
“Matthew,” he gasped, “they’re at the border. The northern ridge.”
Matthew stood instantly. “Who?”
The warrior looked at me. My stomach dropped.
“Rogues,” he said. “But… they’re being led by someone familiar.”
My heart skipped.
“Who?” Matthew asked again.
The warrior hesitated, looked at me and then back at Matthew. Then he said it.
“Her father.”