The Raid

The first wolf comes from the left.

I twist, blade finding flesh before my brain registers the attack. Hot blood sprays my arm. The wolf drops. Another takes its place.

Border patrol was supposed to be routine. Six of us, running the eastern ridge at moonrise. Standard procedure. We've done it a hundred times.

No one expected Shadowvale.

"Fall back!" Ronan's voice cuts through the chaos. Our patrol leader, already bleeding from three wounds. "Get to the treeline..."

A massive gray wolf slams into him. Ronan goes down.

I don't think. I just move.

My blade sinks into the wolf's shoulder. It howls, releasing Ronan, turning on me with fury in its golden stare.

Shift. I need to shift.

But there's no time. They're everywhere, black and gray wolves pouring from the shadows. Shadowvale. Enemy territory is three miles east. They shouldn't be here.

They're here anyway.

I fight. Blade and instinct and the desperate will to survive. One wolf down. Another. A third clamps onto my forearm, teeth tearing through leather guard into flesh.

I scream.

Kick out. Connect with soft belly. The wolf releases, stumbling back, and I drive my blade home.

Blood. So much blood. Mine. Theirs. Everything smells like copper and death.

"Sigrid!" Someone calling my name. Kira, maybe. One of the younger patrol members. "Sigrid, run..."

The word cuts off in a wet gurgle.

No.

I spin. Kira's on the ground, throat opened by claws. Her eyes are still wide. Surprised. She was twenty-two.

My fault. I'm second-in-command. I should have seen this coming. Should have seen the second wave.

Impact.

The ground hits my back, driving the air from my lungs. A wolf stands over me, massive, black, scarred across the muzzle. His weight pins me down. My blade was somewhere in the dirt, lost on impact.

I snarl up at him. Still fighting. Even now.

The wolf shifts.

Human features emerge from the beast, hard face, a jagged scar running from temple to jaw. He's naked and covered in blood, most of it not his.

"Nightclaw," he spits. "Fighting to the end. Pathetic."

"Get off me."

"No." He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. "The Alpha will want to see this one."

Other wolves approach. Surrounding us. I count five still standing. Five enemy wolves against me.

I scan the clearing.

Ronan's down. Not moving. Kira's dead. The others, Marcus, Thea, Jonas, I can't see them. Gone or dead or fled.

I'm alone.

"The Beta's daughter," another wolf says, shifting to human form. Female, lean, with the same hard features as the scarred male. "My brother will be pleased."

The Beta's daughter.

They know who I am.

"On your feet." The scarred wolf hauls me up. "Hands behind your back."

I consider fighting. My blade's three feet away. If I can just reach,

Something cracks against the back of my skull.

The world goes dark.

I wake to movement.

Dragging. Rough hands under my arms, hauling me across uneven ground. My head throbs with every heartbeat.

"She's awake." The female voice. "Careful. Father wants her functional."

Functional.

I file that away. They want me alive. For now.

"Where..." My voice comes out cracked. "Where are you taking me?"

"Home." The scarred wolf, somewhere behind me. "You're in Shadowvale territory now, princess."

Shadowvale.

Three generations of war. Countless dead. My grandfather, killed in the last major battle. My mother's brother, lost to a border skirmish before I was born.

Now I'm being dragged into the heart of enemy territory.

My father will come. He has to. Marcus Erikson doesn't leave family behind.

But even as I think it, cold dread settles in my stomach.

How many wolves does Shadowvale have? How deep is their territory? How long until anyone realizes we're missing?

The treeline breaks.

I look up and see it, a compound in a valley clearing. Buildings of stone and timber. Wolves moving between them, human and beast, all stopping to stare as we pass.

Word spreads fast. I hear the whispers. Nightclaw. Prisoner. The Beta's daughter.

They know exactly what they've caught.

The scarred wolf hauls me toward the largest building, a great hall, ancient and imposing. The doors are already open. Inside, torches flicker against stone walls hung with pelts and weapons.

And at the far end, on a chair that's not quite a throne...

Him.

The Alpha of Shadowvale.

He's younger than I expected. Late twenties, maybe. Dark hair, pale eyes that caught the firelight like ice on a winter lake. Battle scars across his knuckles, one visible through the open collar of his shirt running down his chest.

He's also the most dangerous thing I've ever seen.

He doesn't move as we approach. Just watches. Those blue eyes track me from entry to the center of the hall, where the scarred wolf forces me to my knees.

"Alpha." The wolf bows his head. "Border catch. Six Nightclaw on patrol. Five dead."

Five dead.

Ronan. Kira. The others.

All dead.

"And this one?" The Alpha's voice is low, controlled. He still hasn't moved.

"Sigrid Erikson. The Beta's daughter."

Silence falls.

Every wolf in the hall goes still. The whispers die. Even the fire seems to burn quieter.

The Alpha rises.

He moved like something wild, all predator grace, aware of every body in the room. He stopped in front of me, close enough that his scent hit me. Cedar resin and woodsmoke and underneath, something raw, territorial, male.

"Look at me."

I don't want to. Looking means submitting. Looking means acknowledging his power over me.

But my chin lifts anyway, defiance burning in my chest.

I looked up into those pale eyes.

My wolf slammed against my ribs. A recognition I didn't ask for, primal, wrong. My wolf stirs beneath my skin, responding to something she shouldn't respond to.

His nostrils flared. He'd felt it too.

"The Beta's daughter." He circles me slowly. "Valuable hostage. Potential leverage. Many uses."

"Go to hell."

A wolf behind me growls. The Alpha raises a hand, silencing it.

"Spirited." He completes his circuit, stopping in front of me again. "Your father will pay well for your return."

"My father will burn this territory to ash."

"Perhaps." He crouches, bringing his face level with mine. This close, I can see the threads of silver in his blue eyes. The tiny scar bisecting his left eyebrow. The way his jaw tightens when he speaks. "Or perhaps he'll negotiate."

"Nightclaw doesn't negotiate with Shadowvale."

"Then I suppose you'll be here for a long time."

He stands. Turns away.

"Execute her."

The words hit like physical blows.

"Wait..." I try to rise, but the scarred wolf's hand on my shoulder forces me down. "You just said, leverage..."

"Changed my mind." The Alpha walks toward his chair. Dismissive. Like I'm already dead. "We have enough leverage. Kill her. Send the body to her father."

Wolves move around me. Someone grabs my hair, forcing my head back. Exposing my throat.

This is it.

This is how I die.

Not in battle. Not defending my pack. Executed on my knees in enemy territory while the Shadowvale Alpha doesn't even watch.

The wolf behind me shifts. Claws extend against my neck.

"Hold."

The female voice. The Alpha's sister.

"Brother." She steps forward, ignoring the growls around her. "A word."

"Vera." He doesn't turn. "I've made my decision."

"A foolish one." She joins him at the front, lowering her voice. But my wolf hearing catches every word. "The Beta's daughter is worth more alive. Her father will pay anything. Do anything. Don't waste that."

"We don't need their payment."

"We need their fear." Vera glances back at me. "Keep her. Use her. When you're done, then execute her. But not tonight. Not like this."

The Alpha is silent for a long moment.

Then he turns.

Those pale eyes found mine again. The recognition slammed through me harder this time. My wolf practically howled beneath my skin.

What the hell is this?

"Fine." He waves a hand. "She lives. For now."

Relief crashes through me. Short-lived.

"But she's not a guest." He walks back toward me, each step deliberate. "She's not a prisoner of war to be traded back. She's..."

He stops in front of me. Looks down.

"She's mine."

The hall erupts.

Wolves shouting, protesting, the word "mine" echoing off stone walls. I don't understand. What does he mean, mine?

"Alpha!" The scarred wolf steps forward. "You can't, that's an old law..."

"War prize." The Alpha's voice cuts through the chaos. Absolute. Final. "Ancient tradition. She attacked my wolves. She killed two of them with her blade. She's earned the claim."

War prize.

I've heard the term. Old stories, back from the first wars. Alphas claiming captured enemies as personal property. Not slaves exactly. Worse.

Possessions.

"This is..." I start.

"This is the only thing keeping you alive." He leans down, voice dropping to a growl. "Accept it. Or I let them kill you now. Choose."

War prize or death.

Property or corpse.

"I'll take the war prize," I manage through gritted teeth.

"Wise choice." He straightens, addressing the hall. "She belongs to me. Anyone who touches her answers to me. Clear?"

Grudging acknowledgments. Angry stares.

The Alpha doesn't wait for more. He nods to the scarred wolf.

"Take her to my quarters."

His quarters.

The horror of that implication settles over me as hands grip my arms, hauling me upright.

I'm not a prisoner.

I'm his.