Stolen Mate

Morana's hut looked smaller in daylight, as if the sun had leeched its menace. The bones dangling from the eaves clattered in the wind, a hollow song. Rylan strode ahead, his jaw set, the stolen vial of Lila's blood clinking in his pocket. I lingered at the tree line, my boots rooted to the earth.

"She'll want more than blood this time," I said.

He glanced back, amber eyes narrowed. "We've got nothing left to lose."

*Wrong.* We had our lives. But after weeks of stealing through forests and scavenging scraps, even that felt thin.

The witch was waiting.

She sat cross-legged on a moss-stained rug, her rune-carved hands cradling a skull. "Back so soon?"

Rylan tossed Lila's vial onto the table. "We need the rest of the ritual."

Morana's milky gaze slid to me. "You brought the thief's blood. Clever wolf."

"The *flower* is next," I said, forcing steel into my voice. "Tell us how to use it."

She chuckled, rising with a creak of bones. "The lunar flower is but a key. The lock… is *here*." Her clawed finger tapped the skull's forehead. "Alpha blood. Fresh. Powerful."

My stomach dropped. "Kieran's."

"A vial," she crooned. "Freely given, or forcibly taken."

Rylan stepped forward. "We're not assassins."

"Aren't you?" She grinned, needle-teeth glinting. "The Alpha's blood holds the bond's truth. Without it, your scent remains a ghost."

I gripped the edge of the table. "And if we get it?"

"The ritual can begin." She leaned in, her breath sour. "But hurry, little wolves. The moon favors no liars."

***

We left in silence, the weight of her demand pressing like stones. The path back to Silvermoon felt longer, the shadows deeper.

Rylan stopped at the river, scrubbing Lila's blood from his hands. "We need a plan."

"He's guarded day and night," I said. "Lila's made sure of it."

"So we make her *unmake* it."

I stared at him. "What?"

He smirked, a flash of the rogue I'd first dragged from the dirt. "You're still the pack healer, aren't you?"

"Barely."

"But you know the infirmary. The night patrols. The Alpha's routines."

My throat tightened. Kieran's routines—his evening patrols, his preference for chamomile tea, the way he lingered by the training grounds at dusk. All memories from a life that wasn't mine anymore.

"He'll smell you," I said.

"He won't." Rylan pulled a small pouch from his belt—crushed juniper and pine resin. "Nightshade trick. Masks scent for an hour."

"Enough time to get in and out."

"If you're fast."

I studied the pouch. "And if we're not?"

He shrugged. "Then we die loud."

***

We waited until dusk, when the pack gathered for the evening howl. I smeared the juniper paste on Rylan's neck and wrists, the sharp tang burning my nose.

"You look like a pine tree," I muttered.

"Better than smelling like a corpse."

The paste dulled his earthy rogue scent, but nothing could mask his presence—the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes tracked every movement. A predator in borrowed skin.

The infirmary window was unlatched, as I'd left it. We slipped inside, the shelves of herbs and tinctures ghostly in the moonlight. My hands trembled as I uncorked a vial.

"Here." I thrust it at Rylan. "Silverthorn extract. A drop will knock him out long enough to draw blood."

He frowned. "You're not coming?"

"He'll recognize me."

"He won't."

But we both knew it was a lie.

***

Kieran's lodge loomed ahead, torchlight bleeding through the cracks. Lila's laughter spilled out, sharp and bright. Rylan melted into the shadows, leaving me crouched behind a rain barrel, my pulse a frantic drum.

Minutes passed. Then a crash inside—a overturned table. Shouts.

The door flew open. Kieran stormed out, Garrick at his heels. "Find the intruder!"

They vanished into the dark, leaving the lodge unguarded.

*Rylan's distraction.*

I darted inside, the familiar scent of pine and iron wrapping around me. Kieran's bedroom was sparse—a fur-draped bed, a weapons rack, a desk cluttered with maps. My hands shook as I rummaged through drawers.

A footstep behind me.

I spun, silverthorn vial raised.

Lila stood in the doorway, her smile venomous. "Looking for something?"

I froze.

She stepped closer, crimson ribbons glinting. "You think I didn't notice your little rogue? Pathetic."

"Where's Rylan?"

"Garrick's chewing on him." Her gaze dropped to the vial. "Poison? How original."

I lunged. She sidestepped, slamming me into the wall. The vial shattered, liquid soaking into the furs.

"Stupid," she hissed. "You'll never win."

"Neither will you." I drove my knee into her stomach.

She gasped, stumbling. I grabbed a dagger from the weapons rack, pressing it to her throat. "Where's Kieran's blood stored?"

Her laugh was ragged. "You think he's fool enough to keep it?"

The door burst open.

Kieran stood there, chest heaving, storm-gray eyes blazing. "Elara?"

His voice—rough, familiar—slammed into me.

Lila whimpered. "She tried to kill me!"

He stepped forward, a growl building. "Drop the blade."

"Kieran, listen—"

"Now!"

I backed away, the dagger clattering to the floor.

Lila crawled to him, tears gleaming. "She's gone mad, Alpha. Cursed."

His gaze locked on mine, torn between fury and something softer. "Elara…"

I ran.

***

Rylan found me at the watchtower, his lip split, tunic torn. "Got it." He held up a vial of dark blood.

My breath caught. "How?"

He smirked. "Took a page from Lila's book. Lied."

The vial glinted in his palm—Kieran's blood, stolen. A key. A betrayal.

Morana's words echoed. *The moon favors no liars.*

But we were all liars now.