The battle was over.
The dead were being buried. The injured were being healed. But the pack was quiet — the kind of quiet that came before a storm.
Daemon hadn't spoken to Sienna since the fight.
He had watched her from across the field, unreadable. He hadn't come close.
So when a message came to her room that night — "Come to the garden. Alone." — she thought it might be from him.
She went.
But it wasn't Daemon waiting in the dark.
It was Victor.
⸻
He stood beside the stone statue near the old tree. Moonlight cut across his sharp face, but his eyes held no warmth.
"You're not as clever as you think," he said calmly.
Sienna froze. "What do you want?"
"I want you to understand something," Victor said, stepping closer. "You may have fooled the others with your little rescue act, but I know what you really are."
"And what's that?"
"A crack in the foundation of this pack. You're already pulling him down. You'll destroy him. Just like the prophecy says."
Sienna straightened. "That prophecy is a lie."
Victor's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"And lies have a way of becoming truth… if you let them grow. So here's my advice."
His voice dropped lower.
"Leave. Disappear. Walk away now, and I won't have to clean up the mess."
Sienna's throat tightened. "You're threatening me."
"I'm giving you a way out," he said coldly. "Because if you stay, the next attack won't come from rogues. It'll come from inside this pack."
He stepped past her.
Paused.
Then whispered, "You're already cursed, girl. Don't bring everyone else down with you."
⸻
Sienna stood in the garden long after he left.
Wind rustled the trees. A chill crawled up her spine.
This wasn't just about a mate bond anymore. This was war — quiet, invisible, but deadly.
She would have to choose: run and save herself… or stay and uncover the darkness threatening them all.
And for the first time in her life… she didn't want to run.