CHAPTER 115: OURS.

Maren stood before the altar, her human form blemish-free, despite the violence that had occurred here only hours ago. No wounds marred her skin, no blood stained her clothes, she just wore a simple black dress and her famous red cloak. Her silver eyes reflected the altar’s glow as she traced her fingers over the spiral, feeling the power thrumming beneath the stone.

Footsteps approached from the north, measured and unhurried. Maren didn’t turn, didn’t need to. She knew those footsteps as well as her own heartbeat.

"You’re alive," Mallory Woods said as she emerged from the treeline.

"The altar restored me," Maren replied, her voice the purr of a satisfied predator. "The spirit realm doesn’t let its chosen die so easily. Not when there’s work left to do."

Mallory approached the altar, her gaze sweeping over the clearing. The bloodstains were still visible in the grass, Maren’s blood, the Moonbloods’ blood, all of it. "The human woman. Angela Rivers. She escaped."

Maren’s jaw tightened, the only visible sign of her fury. "Yes."

"Tell me what happened," Mallory said, leaning against the stone. "Everything. I need to know what we’re dealing with."

Maren was silent for a long moment, her fingers still tracing the spiral. When she spoke, her voice was clipped with barely contained rage. "Angela Rivers found the Sanctuary. I still don’t know how, someone must have told her, or she followed Marcus’s trail like a bloodhound that she stupidly is. She came armed with nothing but a pathetic pocketknife and her dead sister’s journal, can you imagine that?"

"You should have killed her immediately," Mallory simply stated.

"I would have." Maren’s nails elongated briefly into claws before she forced them back to human. "But Marcus and his mongrels arrived first. Four of them, Marcus himself and three others I didn’t recognize. Survivors from the old bloodline, weak and desperate but still capable of shifting. They coordinated their attack well, I’ll give them that much credit. They’ve been training and practicing together."

Mallory’s expression darkened. "Marcus. That traitor is still alive?"

"For now." The words dripped with promise. "He won’t much longer."

"And the girl?" Mallory asked the question carefully, knowing it was the answer Maren least wanted to give. "Bella."

Maren turned from the altar to face her second-in-command fully. There was tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before. "Bella appeared out of nowhere. Fully shifted, silver fur like moonlight, her control absolute. She moved like she’d been born in wolf form, like the transformation was as natural as breathing."

Mallory’s eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of her surprise. "That’s impossible. Her wolf only just awoken within her. No Moonblood has that kind of control without years of practice, decades even. The shift is painful at first, disorienting. It takes time to master."

"I know," Maren said through gritted teeth. "Which means someone has been teaching her. Someone we don’t know about, someone powerful enough to accelerate her development. Or..." She paused, the implications sinking in even as she spoke them aloud. "Or the True Silver bloodline is awakening faster than we anticipated. Three weeks until her eighteenth birthday, Mallory. Three weeks, and she’s already more powerful than Carla ever was at that age."

The name hung between them. Her death was supposed to have ended the True Silver line. It was supposed to have broken the Moonbloods’ last hope.

But Carla had possessed her daughter well.

"Tell me about the fight," Mallory prompted, pulling Maren back from dark memories.

Maren resumed pacing, her movements agitated now. "Bella fought me directly. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t show fear. She was fast, way faster than I expected. Her claws found flesh, drew blood. The Moonbloods coordinated with her like they’d been hunting together for years, like they shared a mind."

She touched her chest unconsciously, where Bella’s claws had struck. The flesh was unmarked now, restored by the altar’s power, but the memory burned like acid. "Marcus went for my throat, the other three attacked from different angles, one at my flanks, two at my legs, trying to bring me down. But Bella..."

Maren’s voice dropped lower, "Bella was the worst. She attacked from the left, drawing my attention, my instincts. Then she struck right, exploiting the opening I created when I moved to counter her. Her claws drove into my chest—" She pressed her palm flat against her sternum. "Right here. Deep enough to feel my bone. The spirit realm’s energy poured through the wound like liquid fire. I felt myself dying, Mallory. Truly dying. The altar’s light flickered, my connection to this realm thinned to a thread. For a moment, I thought it was over."

Mallory’s voice was quiet, steady. "But it wasn’t."

"No." Maren’s smile was razor-sharp, cold as winter. "Because Angela Rivers, in her desperate grief and terror, touched the altar. She was searching for something, a vision, a clue to find Bella, some magical answer to save her precious niece. She activated the conduit without understanding what she was doing. The altar fed on her fear, her grief, her human blood soaking into the stone. It used her energy to pull me back from the edge, to restore me fully."

She laughed then, a short, bitter sound. "Ironic, isn’t it? The woman who came here to destroy me, who carried evidence and righteous fury, ended up saving my life. The spirits have a twisted sense of humor."

Mallory allowed herself a small, cold smile. "The spirits favor those who serve them. You’ve fed this altar for decades. It won’t abandon you so easily."

"No," Maren agreed. "It won’t."

"And Jonathan?" Mallory asked, her tone shifting to contempt. "Where was the girl’s father during all of this?"

Maren’s fury reignited like gasoline touched by flame. "Standing at the edge of the clearing like a coward. Like a spectator at a sporting event. He had his leather pouch, his suppression powder, all the tools I’d given him. He threw a handful at Bella, the powder that was supposed to keep her dormant, weak, controllable."

"And?"

"Missed. Mostly." Maren spat the words. "A few grains landed on her fur, but they did nothing. Nothing. Her power just absorbed it like water into sand. And Jonathan stood there, watching his daughter tear into me, watching me bleed, and did absolutely nothing. He completely froze."

Mallory’s expression was stone. "He’s a liability."

"Worse than a liability, he’s actively damaging our operations." Maren began pacing again, her movements sharp and controlled. "After the fight, after Angela was pulled away by the altar’s magic and the Moonbloods retreated, I sent Jonathan to track them. I gave him one simple task: follow them, intercept them, bring Bella back. Do you know what happened?"

Mallory waited, her golden eyes tracking Maren’s movements.

"He chased them through town like a lunatic. Let them lead him on a pursuit that ended with his car wrapped around a bridge support beam." Maren’s voice rose with each word. "He crashed, Mallory. He had extraction teams standing by, resources at his disposal, and what did he do? He crashed his car like a teenage boy in his first shift."

"Where is he now?"

"Hospital. Broken ribs, concussion, possible internal bleeding. Utterly humiliated and completely useless." Maren stopped pacing, turning to face Mallory directly. "And the girl, Bella and whoever she’s traveling with, those four boys who’ve bonded with her like some kind of makeshift pack, they got away. With Angela Rivers. With evidence."

This stopped Mallory cold. Her casual posture vanished, replaced by rigid attention. "What kind of evidence?"

Maren’s eyes flashed dangerously. "Everything we’ve worked to keep hidden. Journal entries from Carla Koker documenting the Moonblood lineage, the hunts, the rituals. Photos of this Sanctuary, the altar, the stone circle, the blood. Possibly recordings of our ceremonies. Angela Rivers has been documenting obsessively since her sister’s death, building a case like she’s preparing for trial."

"And?"

"She has it compiled on a USB drive. Everything in one neat little package, ready to be delivered to Marcus, to the Moonblood Council, to any authority figure who might listen. In the wrong hands, that evidence destroys us."

Mallory’s jaw tightened. "Then we find her. We silence her before she can spread it."

"It’s not that simple." Maren returned to the altar, pressing both palms flat against the spiral. The green light intensified, responding to her touch. "Angela has gone underground. She’s learned from her mistakes. No more predictable patterns, no more staying in one place where we can corner her. She’s scared but motivated. And Bella is back at Whitethorn Academy with her little pack of protectors, all of them on high alert now. They know we’re coming. They’re preparing."

"So we’re exposed," Mallory said flatly.

"Not yet. But we’re vulnerable, more vulnerable than we’ve been in years. And we have three weeks before Bella’s eighteenth birthday, before the True Silver fully awakens and becomes exponentially harder to contain. If the Moonblood Council mobilizes before then, if Marcus rallies more survivors from hiding, if that evidence reaches human authorities who might actually investigate..."

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. They both understood the implications. Exposure meant scrutiny. Scrutiny meant interference. Interference meant failure.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Then Mallory spoke, her voice careful but carrying an undercurrent of anticipation: "But we have the other plan. The one we’ve been preparing."

Maren’s expression shifted, her anger giving way to a careful calculated expression. Her lips curved into a smile that held no warmth. "Yes. We do."

"The housekeeper is in position," Mallory continued, stepping closer to the altar. "She has eyes on every student, every movement, every breath. She’s already identified Bella’s return tonight, the girl thinks she was clever, but the housejy knew the moment she set foot in the dormitory."

"And the new enforcers?"

"Embedded as faculty members. Three of our best, positioned in key locations around campus. They’re watching the boys, Cassian, Rafe, Luca, Killian. Documenting their movements, their relationships, their weaknesses." Mallory’s smile matched Maren’s now. "And the chamber beneath the school..."

"Is ready," Maren finished, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "

Mallory’s eyes gleamed. "And now?"

"Now it’s hungry. Ravenous. Ready for the final ritual." Maren’s hands trembled slightly against the altar. "So even if Angela Rivers exposes us, even if the Moonblood Council mobilizes every survivor they can find, even if human authorities come knocking with warrants and questions, it won’t matter. Because by the time they organize themselves, by the time they understand what we’re doing, Bella will already be—"

"Ours," Mallory interrupted, her voice thick with satisfaction.