The heavy, dark cedar of the master bedroom seemed to press in on Margot as she sat by the window.
It was late afternoon, and the light over the Ridgeback Mountains was fading into a deep, bruised violet. Outside, the snow lay thick and heavy over the pines, but the air inside was warm, smelling of cedar, beeswax, and the lingering, sweet heat of Dorian’s clean scent.
She reached up, her fingers tracing the silver-and-jade pendant that now hung around her neck. The silver was cold against her skin, but it no longer bit her. The gold-green magic was quiet now, coiled tightly in her chest like a sleeping snake, but she could still feel its presence—a deep, rhythmic thrum that matched the distant, slow heartbeat of the mountain.
She was no longer just Margot Miller, the accountant who balanced the books of a dying logging town.
She was the first-born. The "Alpha-Maker."
The title made her stomach do a cold, nervous flip. She had spent her whole life trying to build a wall of logic around her world, trying to control her life with numbers and facts. But now, she was the key to a monstrous war, a prize that every power-hungry wolf in the territory wanted to claim.
The heavy oak door of the bedroom slid open.
Dorian walked in. He was wearing his heavy shearling jacket, his light-brown hair dusted with fresh snow, his face pale and tight. His silver-grey eyes were glowing with a sharp, watchful intensity that didn't look entirely human.
"The patrols are doubled," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble as he shut the door behind him. "Cole is at the northern gate. We haven't seen any movement from Vane’s scouts since the attack, but the wind is dying down. The air is too quiet."
He walked over to the hearth, tossing a fresh split of oak onto the embers. A shower of orange sparks drifted upward, illuminating his strong, square jaw and the slight crook in his nose.
Margot watched him, her heart doing a slow, heavy flutter. The bond between them was a physical presence, a thick, golden cord that she could feel in her veins. She knew he was terrified for her. She could feel his protective instinct screaming in her mind, a constant, clawing demand to lock her away in the deepest room of the house where the silver couldn't reach her.
"Dorian," she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet strength. "We can't keep hiding here."
"You aren't hiding, Margot," he said, turning to face her, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the room. "You are under my protection. The pack is... they are adjusting to what they saw today. Silas has quieted the yearlings, but they are still jumpy."
"They're afraid of me," she said, her chin lifting defiantly. "They look at me like I’m a weapon. Like I’m some kind of... of monster."
"You are not a monster," Dorian said, his voice dropping to a deep, intense whisper as he stepped closer to her. He knelt in front of her chair, his large, warm hands gently taking her wrists. "You saved a child's life today, Margot. You did what none of us could do. The pack knows that. They are afraid of what Vane will do to get to you, not of you."
"But Vane has my scent," she cried, her fingers tightening around his sleeves. "He knows what my blood can do. If he crosses that river—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a sudden, sharp alarm began to blare from the lower floors.
It wasn't a siren. It was a rhythmic, mechanical gong that vibrated through the floorboards, a sound of warning that made Dorian’s wolf instantly surge to the surface.
He stood up, his silver eyes flashing with a brilliant, luminous light. "Stay here, Margot. Lock the door."
"No," Margot said, standing up with him, her golden-hazel eyes wide and focused. "I’m coming with you."
"Margot—"
"I am not going to sit in this room like a trophy, Dorian!" she shouted, her voice carrying the full, resonant power of her first-born blood. "I told you, I am holding the chain. Let's go."
Dorian’s jaw clenched, but as he looked at her pale, determined face, his wolf whined with admiration. He didn't argue. He grabbed his heavy leather belt, checking the silver-alloy dagger at his hip, and led the way down the long, dark corridor.
The grand staircase was a scene of chaotic movement.
Warriors were running through the foyer, their amber eyes glowing in the dim light, their hands resting on their weapons. Cole was near the entrance, his face splattered with mud, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy heaves.
And standing in the center of the room, supported by two young yearlings, was a human.
It was Kyle.
The young deputy was barely conscious, his uniform torn into ribbons, his skin covered in deep, purple bruises and half-frozen slush. He was shivering violently, his teeth chattering with a loud, metallic sound in the quiet foyer.
"Kyle?" Margot gasped, running down the steps, her boots clattering on the wood.
The young yearlings let go of him, and Kyle sank to his knees, his hands shaking as he looked up at her. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, filled with a raw, human terror that made Margot’s heart stop.
"Margot..." he gasped, his voice hoarse and wet. "They... they came to the station. The wolves. The big grey ones."
"Vane's rogues," Cole growled, his hand tightening on his knife. "They overran the town clinic. They’re inside the second perimeter."
"They took him, Margot," Kyle sobbed, a single tear cutting through the dirt on his face. "They took the sheriff. They took Thomas."
Margot felt a sudden, icy dread settle into her bones. Her breath hitched in her throat, her hand flying to her chest to clutch her locket. "Thomas? No. Why would they take Thomas?"
"Because of you," Kyle said, his head falling forward until his forehead touched the floorboards. "The leader... the big one with the scarred face. He left a message. He said... he said if you don't come to the Bitter Root gorge by midnight, he will tear the sheriff’s throat out."
He reached into his pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a battered, blood-stained police radio.
The metal casing was bent, splattered with a dark, fresh crust of blood that smelled of pure iron. Margot’s stomach churned as she looked at the radio—it was the same radio Thomas had used to call her when they found the body by the river.
"He... he said to turn it on," Kyle whispered.
Dorian stepped forward, his massive frame casting a protective shadow over Margot as he took the radio from Kyle's hand. His silver eyes were cold, dead, and entirely focused on the device.
He flipped the plastic switch on the side.
The radio crackled to life with a loud, static-filled hiss that made the yearlings in the foyer instantly flinch, their sharp ears twitching.
"Thorne," a voice came through the static.
It wasn't a human voice. It was a wet, raspy hiss, rich with a deep, mocking malice that made the hair on the back of Margot’s neck stand up. Vane.
"I know you're listening, little alpha," the rogue leader sneered, his breath wheezing through the speaker. "And I know the pretty little first-born is standing beside you, feeling her golden blood hum in her veins."
"Vane," Dorian growled, his voice a low, vibrating wave of authority that made the radio casing rattle in his hand. "If you touch the human, I will hunt you to the northern pass. I will leave your head on the boundary stones."
Vane laughed—a high-pitched, manic sound that made the static on the radio double in intensity. "You won't hunt anyone, Thorne. Your pack is weak. Your yearlings are shivering behind their silver walls, waiting for the first-born to save them."
The sound of a wet, choking gasp came through the speaker, followed by a hoarse, human groan.
"Margot..." Thomas’s voice came, thin and raspy, rich with a deep, agonizing pain. "Don't... don't come. It's a trap. He... he wants the—"
The sound was cut off by a brutal, wet impact, followed by Thomas’s sharp scream of pain.
"Shut up, old man," Vane growled.
He returned to the radio, his voice dropping to a low, cold whisper that made the air in the foyer grow icy. "Listen to me, first-born. I have the sheriff. Your mother’s friend. The man who kept your secrets for thirty years. If you want him to see the sunrise, you will walk into the Bitter Root gorge by midnight. Alone."
"If I smell a single wolf of the Ridgeback pack within a mile of the Gorge, I will tear his chest open on the air," Vane warned. "You have five hours, Margot. Choose your human friend, or choose your alpha’s cage."
The radio went dead, the static cut off with a sharp, final click.
The silence in the foyer was absolute, heavy and sudden as a wet blanket.
Margot stood perfectly still, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She stared at the blood-stained radio in Dorian’s hand, her mind a chaotic, spinning wheel of terror and anger.
Thomas was her only friend. He was the man who had helped her mother Clara when they first arrived in the valley; he was the one who had kept her cabin safe, and he was the only one who had treated her like a person rather than a secret. She couldn't let him die. She couldn't let his blood stain the mountain because of her.
"I’m going," she said, her voice quiet but carrying a fierce, unbreakable resolve.
"No," Dorian said flatly.
He crushed the police radio in his hand, the plastic and wire splintering into a hundred tiny shards that clattered onto the floorboards. He turned to face her, his silver-grey eyes glowing with a brilliant, terrifying fury.
"You are not going anywhere near that gorge, Margot," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It is a trap. Vane knows you are the first-born now. If he takes you, he will have the absolute command. He will use your blood to destroy the pack, and then he will kill Thomas anyway."
"I have to go, Dorian!" Margot shouted, her voice rising as her stubborn anger flared. "He’s my friend! He’s the only human left in this valley who cares about me! I am not going to let him be torn to pieces because I’m too afraid to leave your stone house!"
"I will send the warriors," Dorian said, turning to Cole. "Double the vanguard. We will attack the gorge from the western ridge. We can overrun Vane's position before he can touch the sheriff."
"No, you can't!" Margot cried, stepping between him and his beta. "Vane said if he smells a single wolf, Thomas dies! You can't outrun his nose, Dorian! Your pack is too loud! He will kill him the second you cross the river!"
"And what is your plan, Margot?" Maeve spat, her sharp eyes flashing with a dangerous, amber light as she stepped forward. "You walk into the gorge alone, Vane takes your power, and then we all die? Is that your human plan?"
"Maeve, back off," Cole warned, his hand rising to restrain the young female.
"She’s right, Cole!" Maeve shouted, her voice rising in a panic. "The girl is a liability! If we let her go, we lose everything! Dorian, you have to lock her in! Keep her behind the silver!"
"I am the alpha!" Dorian roared, the sound making the cedar chandeliers rattle, the yearlings instantly dropping their gaze, their shoulders hunching in submission.
He turned back to Margot, his face pale, his silver eyes dark with a heavy, hollowing pain. He reached out, his large, warm hands gently but firmly taking her shoulders.
"Margot, please," he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, desperate plea that she could feel in her chest. "Listen to me. I cannot let you go. If you walk into that gorge, Vane will not be gentle. He will take the magic from your blood, and it will kill you. I cannot live in this valley if you are gone."
"And I cannot live in this valley if my hands are covered in Thomas’s blood, Dorian," Margot said softly, her golden-hazel eyes searching his with a fierce, desperate clarity.
She reached up, her fingers gently wrapping around his wrists. "You promised me, Dorian. You promised me my choice would be mine. You said you would protect my right to remain human. Well, this is my humanity. I cannot let an innocent man die to keep myself safe."
"This is different, Margot," Dorian said, his grip on her shoulders tightening, his body blockading her from the exit. "This is not a choice. This is suicide. I am your alpha, and I am telling you: you are staying inside this house."
He turned to Cole, his voice taking on a flat, cold edge of command that made Margot’s heart do a cold, violent leap.
"Cole, take her to the library," Dorian ordered. "Lock the doors. Post four warriors at the entrance. If she tries to leave, restrain her."
"Dorian, no!" Margot screamed, her voice cracking with a raw, bitter betrayal as Cole stepped forward, his eyes filled with a quiet regret. "You can't do this! This is kidnapping! This is the cage!"
"It is the only way to keep you alive," Dorian said, his silver eyes dark as he turned his back to her. "I am going to the gorge with the warriors. We will save Thomas, Margot. But you are staying here."
Cole reached out, his hand gently catching her arm. "Come on, Margot. Don't make us use force."
Margot looked at Dorian’s broad, unyielding back, her heart shattering into a thousand cold, jagged pieces. He had promised her freedom. He had promised her a partnership. But the moment the wild had threatened his territory, he had turned her sanctuary into a prison.
"I don't trust you, Dorian," she whispered, her voice cold and flat as the mountain ice.
Dorian flinched, his shoulders tensing, but he didn't turn around.
Cole led her toward the library, her boots heavy on the stone floor, the silver-and-jade pendant cold against her chest. As the heavy timber doors of the library slid shut behind her, the lock turning with a loud, metallic click, Margot sank to her knees on the Persian rug.
She was trapped.
But as she looked at her hands, which were already beginning to hum with that gold-green, earth-weaving light, her jaw set in a hard, stubborn line. Dorian thought he could lock the first-born behind silver walls.
But he had no idea how strong the roots of the mountain really were. And she was going to save her friend—with or without her alpha’s permission.