Chapter 4: The Monster's Shadow
The war room was a tomb of shadows and whispers, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid sting of fear. Maps of conquered lands clung to the walls, their edges frayed and stained, marked with the ashes of burned villages. At the center of the room, Kael stood like a statue carved from wrath, his claws resting on the hilt of a dagger embedded in the table. Around him, five generals knelt, their armor dented, faces streaked with dirt and blood. One clutched a broken arm to his chest, his breathing shallow.
"Three villages," Kael said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the stones. "Three chances to crush the eastern rebels. And yet they live."
A general with a gash across his cheek dared to speak. "My lord, their forces were larger than we—"
Kael moved.
In a blur, he was across the room, his hand closed around the man's throat. He lifted him effortlessly, the general's boots scraping the floor as he choked. "*Larger?*" Kael hissed, his golden eyes blazing. "You had wolves. Archers. *Fire*. What did they have? Farmers with pitchforks."
The man gagged, clawing at Kael's wrist. The others stayed frozen, their eyes locked on the ground.
"Weakness," Kael snarled, "is a disease. And I purge it."
He slammed the general's head into the wall. Once. Twice. On the third strike, the man went limp. Kael dropped him, the body crumpling like a sack of grain. He turned to the others, blood dripping from his claws. "Burn the next village. Every man, every child. Let the rebels watch their hope turn to ash."
The generals bowed, their voices trembling. "Yes, Alpha."
As they fled, Kael dragged a hand down his face, his shoulders tightening. The door creaked open behind him.
"Always so dramatic," Zoya purred.
He didn't turn. "You're late."
She stepped into the torchlight, her antler crown glinting, a smirk playing on her lips. "I was busy sharpening knives. And watching your little pet tremble in her chains."
Kael's jaw twitched. "Why did you bring her here?"
Zoya traced a finger along the map, smearing dried blood. "Why does it matter? She's just another toy."
"Liar." He faced her, his gaze piercing. "You want to watch me break her."
She laughed, low and dangerous. "And if I do? You've broken better."
In three strides, he had her pinned against the wall, his claws pricking her throat. Zoya didn't flinch. She tilted her head, exposing the scar he'd given her years ago—a thin white line that curved from her collarbone to her jaw. A relic of their wedding night, when she'd tried to slit his throat and he'd retaliated with a kiss of steel.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, husband," she taunted, her nails digging into his wrists. "Does it eat at you? Knowing she's the one you *truly* wanted?"
His grip tightened. "You know nothing."
"Don't I?" Her hand slid down his chest, nails raking over the scar she'd carved above his heart. "I know you kept her father's letters. I know you stare at that damned tapestry like it holds the secrets of the gods. And I know—"
He crushed his mouth to hers.
It was a collision of teeth and fury, a battle as old as their marriage. Zoya bit his lip, drawing blood, and he growled, slamming her harder against the wall. Her laughter melted into a moan as his hands found her hips, bruising in their intensity.
"You want to break her?" he hissed against her lips. "I'll never give you the satisfaction."
Zoya's breath hitched, her defiance crumbling for a heartbeat. "Liar," she whispered.
---
Later, in their chambers, Zoya straddled him, her hair a dark curtain around their faces. The firelight danced over their sweat-slicked skin, over the scars they'd given each other—a map of violence and twisted devotion. Kael's hands gripped her waist, his touch softer now, almost reverent.
"Why her?" Zoya murmured, her lips brushing his ear. "Of all the broken things you've collected… why *her*?"
Kael's eyes darkened. He rolled her onto her back, pinning her wrists. "You talk too much."
She laughed, but it faded as he kissed her—slow, deep, a contrast to their earlier rage. His thumb traced the scar on her throat, a silent apology. Zoya's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
When it was over, she lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "We leave at dawn?"
"Yes."
"And the concubine?"
"She comes."
Zoya propped herself up, her smirk returning. "Good. I'll enjoy peeling her apart."
Kael's hand snapped around her throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to silence her. "Touch her," he said quietly, "and I'll hang your pelt from my throne."
She grinned, unflinching. "Promises, promises."
---
**The Next Morning**
The camp buzzed with chaos as warriors packed weapons and loaded carts with plundered gold. Lakshmi stood shackled to a supply wagon, her wrists raw from the iron cuffs. She watched Kael mount his wolf—a monstrous beast with fur black as midnight and eyes like smoldering coals.
"Move out!" he roared.
The caravan lurched forward, wheels groaning over uneven ground. Lakshmi stumbled, the chains yanking her arms. Ahead, Zoya rode a white stag, her laughter sharp as she glanced back.
"Keep up, little queen," she called. "The Den of Ashes has such *fun* in store for you."
Lakshmi gritted her teeth. As they marched, she studied the warriors—their tattoos, their weapons, the way they avoided Kael's gaze. *Find the cracks. Use them.*
A soldier shoved her, his boot connecting with her calf. "Faster, slave."
She fell, her knees scraping stone. Before she could rise, a shadow loomed over her.
Kael.
He backhanded the soldier, sending him sprawling. "She walks," he snarled, "or you lose the legs that chased her."
The soldier scrambled back, blood dripping from his nose. "Y-yes, Alpha."
Kael turned to Lakshmi. For a heartbeat, his gaze lingered—on her scraped knees, her shackled wrists. Then he walked away, his wolf snapping at stragglers.
That night, as the camp settled, a guard tossed a fur-lined cloak at Lakshmi's feet. "From the Alpha," he muttered.
She stared at it, then at Kael's tent. Through the flickering firelight, she saw his silhouette—pacing, restless, a beast trapped in human skin.
*What game are you playing?*
Lakshmi wanted to know.
But as she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, its warmth seeped into her bones. For the first time in years, she slept without shivering.
All she dreamt about was simpler times, when the sky was still blue and rain still fell and she was a child doted upon by her father and her entire tribe.
The time of sweets and hugs, when the biggest problem were skinned knees and craving.
The time when Varun was just a servant dusting the shoes of her father.
Then she dreamt of breaking free and putting a dagger in between his eyes.
It was a good dream.