Chapter 4

The grand doors of the hall swing open with a heavy thud, letting in a wave of cold evening air.

A dozen heavily armored warriors march inside, their steel boots clicking in sharp unison against the stone floor.

They wear dark grey cloaks pinned with black iron wolf brooches, the mark of the Obsidian Pack. The room falls dead silent. Even the pack elders hold their breath, visually shaken by the raw strength radiating from the visiting unit.

At the front of the group walks a towering warrior with broad shoulders and a thick beard. His silver-trimmed armor shines under the torchlight, and a jagged scar runs across his left cheek.

He carries himself with massive arrogance, his chest puffed out as he scans the room with a cold sneer.

Alpha Garreth immediately steps down from the raised platform, spreading his arms wide with a fake smile. He bows his head slightly, a rare sign of respect from a man who usually demands total submission.

"Welcome to Blood Moon, Supreme Alpha Silas," Garreth says, his voice loud and dripping with false warmth. "It is an honor to host the legendary ruler of the north in my humble hall."

The tall warrior in silver armor chuckles deeply, leaning back on his heels without correcting him. Garreth assumes this muscular giant is the ruler he fears. He begins pandering at once, gesturing toward the main high table and offering compliments on their long journey.

I stand near the wooden side pillar with my silver wine pitcher, keeping my head bowed low. But while everyone else stares at the towering warrior, my eyes move past him, analyzing the subtle details of the delegation.

Something does not fit.

The tall warrior speaks loudly, but his eyes dart nervously toward the rear guard every few seconds. He stands with his weight shifted back, waiting for permission before he takes a single step forward. A true Alpha does not look over his shoulder for approval.

My gaze drifts toward the back of the group.

Standing behind two heavy shield-bearers is a plain-clothed warrior. He wears simple dark leather, unadorned by silver or badges of rank. His black hair is trimmed short, and his posture looks completely relaxed.

Yet, the deadliest fighters in the room stand in a subtle shield formation around him, leaving a clear path for his vision. When he shifts his hand slightly to the left, two senior guards instantly adjust their stance to cover his flank.

When his dark eyes glance toward the high table, the loud warrior in silver armor imperceptibly stiffens his spine.

They defer to him in every micro-expression.

I trace the lines of his face. His features are sharp, defined by a hard jawline and eyes like liquid flint. He carries no heavy weapons, only a short blade strapped to his belt, but the air around him feels strangely heavy, dense with a power he carefully suppresses.

This plain-clothed man is the real Supreme Alpha, Silas Blackwood. The towering warrior front and center is merely a decoy, a walking target set up to draw away potential assassins while the real leader observes the room in total safety.

Garreth continues his embarrassing display, completely blind to the deception.

"We have prepared our finest foods and aged wine for your arrival, Supreme Alpha," Garreth boasts, gesturing toward the high table. "Please, take the seat of honor on my right."

The loud decoy warrior nods gruffly, stepping toward the table. As he does, the real Silas moves quietly toward the outer edge of the group, taking a spot near the dark stone pillars where the shadows hang thickest.

He wants to watch the room without being watched.

I step forward with my silver pitcher, keeping my steps light and silent. I walk past the loud decoy, ignoring the rich scents of seasoned meat and fresh bread filling the air.

I navigate through the crowd of nervous servants, heading straight toward the dark pillar where the plain-clothed warrior stands.

The two Obsidian shield-bearers catch my approach. Their hands drop instantly toward their sword hilts, their eyes hardening into deadly threats.

I do not stop, nor do I flinch. I keep my gaze dropped to the floor, my posture looking like that of a beaten, timid servant holding a heavy wine jug.

"Wine, my lord?" I ask softly, my tone flat and trembling just enough to play the part.

One guard prepares to shove me back, but Silas raises two fingers. The guard freezes instantly, stepping aside without a word.

Silas steps into the soft torchlight, his dark eyes locked onto my face. Up close, his presence feels like a force of nature, a quiet storm wrapped in simple leather. He looks down at my thin arms, my stained apron, and the pale skin of my neck.

"Fill it," Silas says, his voice a deep, quiet rumble that vibrates through the floor.

I tilt the silver pitcher, pouring the dark red liquid into his brass cup. I keep my hands steady, refusing to let the heavy pitcher shake. As the cup fills, I lift my chin just a fraction, letting my eyes meet his for a single, fleeting second.

I do not look at him with fear. I do not look at him with the blank submission of a broken servant. I look at him with cold, sharp recognition.

My eyes flick from his face to the loud warrior at the high table, then back to his simple leather tunic. I give him a tiny, almost invisible nod of acknowledgment, letting him know that his trick has failed. I see straight through his mask.

Silas catches the subtle movement. His dark eyebrows lift slightly in genuine surprise. The relaxed posture he maintained all evening vanishes, replaced by a razor-sharp focus.

He leans down a fraction of an inch, his intense gaze drilling into mine as if trying to read every thought locked inside my head.

He realizes this weak, nameless girl serving wine knows exactly who he is, while the Alpha of the pack remains completely fooled.

I lower my gaze at once, stepping back into the shadows with a smooth bow.

"Enjoy the feast, my lord," I whisper softly, turning away before Garreth or his guards notice the interaction.

As I walk back toward the service door, I feel the weight of Silas's eyes tracking my every step across the room. The trap is moving.

The Supreme Alpha knows I see him, and the dynamic in this hall has just changed forever.

Tab 6