C10 SOUNDS OF BETRAYAL

The fortress was too quiet.

Hours had passed since the rogues retreated into the forest, yet the silence weighed heavily than the battle’s chaos. The walls still smelled of burning, blood, and ash—scars of the conflict engraved into stone. But it wasn’t only the fortress that bore the wounded.

Elara lay on a mattress in Damon’s chamber, her side bandaged where the rogue’s claws had torn through her. Every breath burned, not only with pain, but with the lingering remembrance of the fire she had unleashed. She had felt invincible in those moments. Terrifying. Alive.

And now… empty.

The bond thrummed faintly; her wolf curled in restless sleep deep inside her. Damon had barely left her side since carrying her from the battlefield. He stood now at the window, his back straight, his broad shoulders taut beneath a bloodstained tunic. The moonlight traced him in silver, making him look like the shadow of a god.

“Stop staring,” he murmured without turning.

Elara reddened, shocked. “I wasn’t.”

“You were.” His voice was low, harsh, but not nasty. “You don’t have to deny it. The relationship creates liars of us both.”

Her chest constricted. The memory of his voice on the battlefield—She’s mine—echoed inside her, making her pulse beat. He hadn’t uttered it like a plea. He had stated it as the truth. But truth could be brutal.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered.

Finally, he turned. His eyes, piercing as onyx, captured hers. “Shouldn’t have said what?”

“That I’m yours. That I belong to you.” Her voice quivered, but she retained his stare. “The pack heard. They’ll think—”

“They’ll think what I want them to think,” Damon interrupted, getting closer. His aroma of smoke and pine curled around her, tantalizing. “They’ll think the Alpha King does not reject strength. That he accepts what fate offers him and makes it his weapon.”

Her breath hitched as he crouched near her mattress, his palm touching her bandaged side with unexpected gentleness. “And they’ll think twice before doubting you again.”

Heat surged through her, but it had little to do with the fire inside her. “You don’t trust me,” she whispered softly.

His jaw clenched. “I don’t trust anyone. That’s how I’ve kept alive.”

Their eyes locked, the air between them sizzling. Her wolf roused, pushed against the bond, coaxing her closer. But before she could speak, a harsh knock at the door ruined the moment.

“Enter,” Damon snapped.

One of his betas stepped inside, head lowered. It was the same man who had scoffed at her earlier. His lip twisted slightly as his eyes flicked to Elara.

“My King,” the beta said. “The council demands an audience. They are… troubled by what they witnessed tonight.”

Damon climbed to his full height, towering. “Unsettled? Or threatened?”

The beta hesitated. “Both.”

Elara moved uneasily. Whispers of her burning already spread like wildfire through the fortress—through the entire kingdom, possibly. Power made enemies as swiftly as it inspired admiration.

Damon turned back to her. “Stay here. Rest.”

But Elara’s chest clenched at the notion of his facing them alone. “They’ll use me against you if I’m not there. You know they will.”

For a time, he looked ready to dispute. Then, with a low growl, he offered his hand. “Then stand with me. But realize this, Elara—you show them power, or they’ll tear you apart.”

Her hand slipped into his. Warmth flashed through her, steadier than any flame. She nodded.

The council chamber was a ring of shadows and candlelight. Old wolves, scarred and cunning, sat around the long table. Their eyes gleamed like knives when Damon took Elara inside.

“She doesn’t belong here,” one elder rasped before the doors had even closed. His pale eyes shone softly in the dark. “She’s a curse, Damon. We all saw it—the prophecy made flesh.”

“She saved your hides,” Damon growled, his voice booming through the chamber. “If not for her, we’d be burning your corpses from the walls right now.”

Murmurs rippled.

Another elder leaned forward, his tone sweet as poisoned honey. “And at what cost? Fire that consumes rogues today may consume us tomorrow. You noticed how little control she had.”

Elara’s stomach twisted. The words were blades, sharper because they were true. She had nearly lost control.

Damon’s palm wrapped around hers, grounding her. “Her power is ours now. Mine to command. You will accept her, or you will stand against me.”

The challenge reverberated through the chamber, heavy and dangerous. Silence followed—no one dared answer it. Not yet.

But Elara felt it. Beneath the quiet, beneath their bent heads, revolt boiled. Fear had teeth. And it would bite.

When they eventually left the chamber, Damon’s hold was iron on her hand. His jaw was tight, and his eyes hard.

“They won’t obey forever,” Elara remarked gently.

“They don’t have to obey forever.” His voice was a sneer. “They only have to obey long enough for me to crush them when they betray me.”

His words chilled her. Not because of their brutality, but because some part of her agreed.

Later, in the seclusion of his chamber, Damon crushed her against the wall, his eyes searing into hers.

“You’re mine, Elara. No prophecy, no council, no fate will change that.” His breath was scorching across her skin.

Her heart beat, caught between terror and need. “And if the prophecy says I’ll destroy you?” she whispered.

His lips hovered a whisper away from hers, his gaze dark with something savage and unyielding. “Then I’ll let you. Because no one else will ever touch me the way you do.”

Her wolf howled inside her, claws scratching against her ribs, forcing her closer. Her fire stirred, licking along her veins. She wanted him—wanted to burn and be scorched.

But before their lips met, another knock shattered the air.

Damon hissed, wrath flaring. “What now?”

The door creaked open just enough for a messenger to stumble inside, pallid and shivering.

“My King,” the man muttered, voice shaking. “There’s been an attack… not by rogues. By one of our own.”

Damon’s gaze narrowed, dangerous. “Who?”

The messenger swallowed. His gaze glanced uneasily to Elara before falling. “It was Beta Kael, my King. He sought to flee the fortress. He was caught with letters—sealed with the crest of the Shadow Pack.”

Elara’s blood ran cold. Betrayal. The whispers she had felt in the council chamber had already taken root.

Damon’s howl rattled the walls. But before he could answer, the messenger added, voice breaking:

“And… he wasn’t alone. The letters… they carried her name. Elara’s. The Shadow Pack knows about her flame.”

The chamber spun. Elara’s knees nearly buckled.

The prophecy. The rogues. The whispering. All of it was tied to her.

Damon’s palm tightened around her arm, strong and uncompromising. His eyes flashed, a tempest of rage and dread.

“They’re coming for you.”