Chapter 8

Magnus’s POV

Nathan was waiting for me when I arrived at the Lycan estate.

“Alpha, we have a message from the Silver Pack.”

I exhaled, already sensing trouble. “Let me guess,” I muttered, shrugging off my coat. “Another plea for an alliance?”

Nathan nodded. “Not just a plea. A demand.”

“What demand is that?”

“The Silver Pack Alpha insists that you marry his daughter as soon as possible,” Nathan continued. “He claims the only way to solidify the bond between the Lycans and the Werewolves is through blood ties. He wants a swift union, before the hybrid traitors regroup.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “How convenient,” I mused, running a hand through my hair. “The moment I step back into my own territory, they try to dictate my future.”

Nathan hesitated before speaking. “Alpha, I understand it may be a proposition unsuitable for you, but it would serve our cause.”

I clenched my jaw.

He wasn’t wrong. The hybrid traitors were growing bolder. Having the werewolf tribes firmly on my side would ensure our victory.

But I hated being controlled.

I strode toward the window, staring out at the vast land I ruled. Marrying for political gain was a game others played, not me.

“The Lycans don’t need the werewolf’s help to win this war,” I said coldly.

Nathan remained silent. He knew better than to challenge me when I gave conclusions like that.

Still, the real issue wasn’t the marriage, it was the werewolf tribes. They were too scattered, too unpredictable. Some were loyal, others hesitant. And then there were those who might already be in bed with the traitors.

I turned back to Nathan. “Tell them the marriage is nothing more than a formality,” I ordered. “And if they think they’re in a position to demand anything from me, they’re mistaken. Magnus does not take orders from anyone.”

Nathan nodded and left to deliver my response.

I sat down in my chair, fingers tapping against the desk.

My mind was shifting away from the Silver Pack matter. There was a more pressing concern, one I could no longer ignore.

“The Red Moon Pack,” I murmured.

“What about them, sire?” Nathan had returned quickly and was now standing by the doorway.

“Dig up everything we have on them,” I ordered. “I want to know every alliance they’ve forged, every secret they’re hiding.”

Nathan frowned. “You think they’re involved with the hybrids?”

I nodded. “The spy we captured had a Red Moon totem on him. Either it was planted to mislead us, or the Red Moon Pack is working with the enemy.” I tilted my head, my voice turning ice-cold. “I intend to find out which.”

Nathan sighed but nodded. “I’ll have our best scouts dig into their movements.”

Before he turned to leave, he hesitated. His lips twitched slightly, as if amused by something.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes.

“You came back from the human world reeking of female werewolf pheromones,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “And not just any female, one with a scent unlike any I’ve encountered before.”

“You have something to say, Nathan?”

“Are you sure she’s not human?” Nathan pressed.

I clenched my jaw. I had tested Celest’s blood myself. She was as human as they came. And yet… there was something about her. Something that had kept me on edge since the moment I met her.

“She’s human,” I said. “But I’ll admit, she’s… different.”

Nathan smirked. “Different enough to have our ruthless Alpha personally escort her back to his private villa?”

I shot him a glare. “Careful, Nathan.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying. If she’s special enough for you to keep, then maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, I shifted the conversation back to business. “Send a message to the interrogation team. I want to see the spy we captured yesterday. It’s time he talked.”

Nathan nodded and left the room.

The underground cells reeked of blood and damp stone and it was a good reason I hardly visited there.

I stepped into the chamber where the captured spy was held. He was bound to a chair, his face bruised, his body covered in cuts.

The moment he saw me, his body shook out of fear.

“Tell me what I want to know,” I said calmly, rolling up my sleeves. “And maybe I’ll let you live.”

The spy swallowed hard, his breath ragged. “I… I was only following orders.”

“Whose orders?” I asked, stepping closer.

He hesitated.

Nathan, standing behind me, let out an impatient sigh. “He’s been like this all day. Won’t say a damn thing.”

I sighed. “Such a shame.”

Then I struck.

A single blow to his ribs. He groaned in pain, trying to suppress the pain.

I crouched beside him, lowering my voice to a whisper. “You already know how this ends. So why prolong your suffering?”

The spy trembled. “I… I was paid off.”

“By whom?”

His lips parted, but before he could answer, his body went rigid.

Blood poured from his mouth as his eyes rolled back. His breathing turned erratic, then stopped completely as white foams spilled from his mouth.

I cursed under my breath.

Nathan rushed forward, checking his pulse. Then he scowled. “He’s dead.”

I folded my palms into a fist. He had been poisoned. Someone had silenced him.

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the chamber. “Get me his contact history, every person he’s ever spoken to in the past month.”

Nathan nodded, already sending orders to our intel team.

But I wasn’t going to sit around and wait.

If someone had gone to the trouble of silencing him, that meant they were close. And I intended to find them.

Alone.

I had followed the Intel gotten by Nathan into the deepest part of the forest. It led deep into the heart of the wilderness, a perfect hiding place for traitors.

Then I heard it.

The subtle snap of a branch. A heartbeat too fast. A sharp inhale.

I wasn’t alone.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Good.

In an instant, they attacked.

They came from all sides, dark figures shifting into their wolf forms as they lunged at me. Their scent confirmed my suspicion. They weren’t just hybrids. There were full-blooded werewolves among them.

So, the werewolf packs were involved.

A snarl ripped from my throat as I met their assault head-on.

The first wolf snapped at my throat, but I dodged, slamming and twisting my claws into his side. A pained yelp echoed from his mouth before I flung his body into another attacker.

Another wolf leaped from behind, claws out to grab me. I quickly held him mid-air, crushing his ribs in my grip before greeting his face to the ground.

Blood splattered to my body and clothes. The smell fueled my rage the more.

One by one, their bodies fell.

Until only one remained.

He stood frozen, panting heavily. His body was covered in wounds, his breathing had changed into gasps.

I tilted my head. “Go.”

His ears flicked back, tail tucked between his legs. He was unsure of my words, so he hesitated for a moment till I signaled with my fingers and he ran off.

Let him run. He would return to his pack, carrying the message loud and clear: I am not to be challenged.

With blood dripping from my hands, I turned away from the carnage and headed back.

I was heading in the opposite direction—away from my Lycan territory.

My instincts were drawing me elsewhere, to someone.

By the time I reached the villa, I realized my clothes were soaked with blood, but I didn’t care. My body ached with hunger, not just for food, but for something more potent.

Something vital.

I stepped inside, my keen senses instantly detecting her presence. Celest.

She lay curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Her breathing was soft. Peaceful.

For a moment, I simply watched her—the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest, the gentle flutter of her pulse beneath delicate skin. The scent of her—warm, intoxicating—wrapped around me like a cruel temptation.

My hunger stirred. No. It raged.

The wound on my side throbbed, the blood loss turning my vision hazy, my body weak. But it wasn’t just the need to heal. It was her.

Her scent. Her essence.

My fangs ached, a deep, canal craving coiling through me like a beast denied its feast for too long.

Slowly, I moved forward, unable to stop myself. Every step a battle against my own control.

Reaching out, I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly from the bed, her warmth pressing into me like a silent invitation. Her throat was so close. So exposed. The pulse beneath her skin drummed in my ears, taunting me.

I shuddered. My grip tightened.

Then, my lips brushed the shell of her ear as I whispered, low, rough, desperate,

"I need to taste your blood… or I won’t survive."