Chapter 5

The heavy scent of pine and earth filled the air, the moonlight filtering through the trees in long, slanted beams that bathed the clearing in a ghostly glow. It was a quiet night, but the silence hung like a curtain of tension, heavy and unnerving. Elara stood frozen, staring at the figure before her, her breath coming in shallow, unsteady gasps.

Her father.

Draven Blackthorn stood just beyond the mist’s edge, his broad figure dark against the backdrop of the forest. The faint light from the moon revealed the sharp lines of his face, the severity of his expression. His black eyes—cold, calculating—locked onto hers with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

“Father,” Elara said, her voice faltering. She hadn’t expected to see him so soon, not like this. Her pulse hammered in her neck, her chest tightening as the weight of everything she’d learned settled heavily on her shoulders. Kael Storm, her biological father, had revealed his dark secrets, but now, Draven was here—just as much a part of this tangled mess as Kael.

“You’ve made your choice,” Draven said, his voice low and even, carrying the full weight of his authority. He took a slow step forward, his tall, muscular frame cutting through the mist like a predator stalking its prey. The cloak he wore swirled behind him, black and imposing, as though he were cloaking himself in the shadows of his own past.

Elara's heart raced. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run or face him, but she knew one thing for sure: there was no escaping the choices that lay ahead.

“I don’t understand,” Elara said, shaking her head, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain steady. “What do you mean, ‘my choice’?”

Draven’s lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. He paused just within arm’s reach, and Elara instinctively took a step back, though it did nothing to reduce the growing pressure she felt in the pit of her stomach.

“The prophecy, Elara,” Draven said, his voice now softer, but no less chilling. “It was always about you. You were never meant to follow the path your mother dreamed of. You were never meant to unite the packs.”

Her mind raced, flashing back to the stories her mother had whispered to her when she was younger—tales of a future where two rival packs would join under one leader. Elara had always known her mother’s vision had died with her death, but hearing Draven’s cold words now, she realized how deep the web of deception ran. Her father had never intended for her to be a part of that vision. He had never believed in peace.

“Then what do you want from me, Father?” Elara’s voice hardened, but the crack of uncertainty betrayed her. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, like a weight pressing down on her chest.

Draven’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments, a flicker of something almost… human, before he exhaled heavily. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.

“I want you to accept who you are,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Blackthorn bloodline is strong, Elara. You have power in your veins that you cannot deny. You’re my daughter. You belong with me. Not with him.”

Elara flinched at the mention of Kael, her biological father. The weight of his revelation still lingered in her mind, clashing with everything she thought she knew. And now, here was Draven, offering her power, offering her a path she had never considered—a path she never wanted.

The tension between father and daughter stretched between them like a thin, taut wire, ready to snap.

Leon’s presence was a steadying force beside her. She could feel the warmth of him there, his strength a silent promise that he would stand by her, no matter the path she chose. His eyes, fixed on Draven, were cold and calculating, his hand still resting near the hilt of his dagger. He was ready for a fight.

“You’re wrong,” Elara said, her voice firmer now. “I don’t belong with you. I’m not a pawn in your game anymore, Father.”

Draven’s eyes darkened, his lips tightening as if Elara had struck a nerve. He didn’t take a step back, didn’t flinch. Instead, he seemed to draw power from her rejection, his presence growing more imposing.

“You’ve always been my daughter, Elara,” he said slowly, each word dripping with bitterness. “And you will always be mine. But you don’t have to be a part of this war. You don’t have to choose sides.”

Elara glanced at Leon. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, the intensity in them shifting, but he said nothing. She could feel the tension in him, could see the way his jaw clenched as he waited for her to make her move.

She had to make a choice.

Her thoughts raced—her mother’s dream, Kael’s words, Draven’s manipulation. The prophecy she had always heard in whispers had now become a burden, and the weight of it threatened to crush her.

But she wasn’t her father. She wasn’t a product of his manipulation, his control. She was her mother’s daughter, too. And she would find her own way.

“I’ll never follow you, Father,” Elara said, her voice steady now, filled with finality. “I will not let you dictate my fate. I will never be your puppet.”

Draven’s eyes flashed with fury, and for a brief, horrifying moment, Elara thought he might strike her. The air between them crackled with the electricity of his anger, but just as quickly, he reigned it in, straightening his posture. His lip curled into a sneer, and he took a step back, his gaze shifting to Leon.

“You think you can save her?” Draven spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “You think you can protect her from what’s coming? You don’t know what you’re up against.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Leon said, his voice calm but laden with authority. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Elara felt a surge of something—pride, warmth, or maybe something deeper—at Leon’s words. The bond between them, fragile as it was, was undeniable. He was standing beside her, not because he had to, but because he chose to.

Draven glared at him, his black eyes narrowing. Then, with a final, venomous glance at Elara, he turned and walked away, vanishing into the mist, his cloak trailing behind him like a dark shadow.

Elara stood there for a long moment, her body trembling from the intensity of the confrontation. The valley around her seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world were holding its breath.

The silence was broken by Leon’s soft voice, laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Elara turned to face him, her chest tight, but his steady presence grounded her. She nodded, though the ache in her heart told her she was far from okay.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Leon stepped closer, his hand brushing hers in a gesture so subtle, yet so powerful, that it made her breath catch in her throat. He didn’t say anything more, but the quiet understanding between them spoke volumes.

And in that moment, amidst the lingering tension of the night, Elara realized something: the choices ahead of her wouldn’t be easy. But she didn’t have to face them alone.

As the mist began to thicken again, a low, guttural growl echoed from the forest. Elara’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked up to see two glowing eyes staring back at her from the darkness—closer now. A shadow detached itself from the trees, moving toward them with deliberate slowness. The growl rumbled again, this time louder, more menacing.

And then, from the shadows, emerged a wolf—not just any wolf, but one larger than anything Elara had ever seen. Its eyes glowed an eerie yellow, its massive frame casting a long, twisted shadow as it approached.