Chapter 5: The Taste of Silver

The chains bit into Liam's wrists like frozen snakes.

He hung suspended from the ceiling of what used to be a slaughterhouse. Rusted hooks dangled beside him. The concrete floor beneath his bare feet held dark stains that weren't rust.

Three hours since they'd taken him. Maybe four. Hard to track time when your skull felt split open and your veins burned like someone had replaced his blood with acid.

The door groaned open.

Boots on concrete. Two sets. One heavy, one light.

"Still awake." Marcus circled him, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The beta's face looked different in the dim light. Harder. Older. "Most pups would've passed out by now."

"Not a pup." Liam's voice came out cracked. "Not yours."

"You think that matters?" Marcus stopped in front of him. The chain clinked as Liam shifted weight. "The blood moon doesn't care about your feelings. It cares about blood. Old blood. Your blood."

"I don't—"

"You don't know anything." Marcus grabbed his chin, forced his head up. "Your mother never told you. Your father ran before you were born. And now you're twenty-one with a dead alpha's soul sleeping in your bones."

Liam's breath caught.

"What?"

"Alexander Bloodmoon." Marcus released him, stepped back. "Last true Wolf King. Died thirty years ago. No heir. No pack. Just a legend that old wolves whisper about when they're drunk."

The name hit Liam like a physical blow. Something deep in his chest answered it. Recognized it.

"That's impossible."

"Is it?" Marcus pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, turned it toward Liam.

A photograph. Old. Grainy. A man with silver-white hair and eyes that glowed amber even in the black-and-white image. He stood on a mountainside, surrounded by wolves that looked more like shadows than animals.

Same jawline as Liam's reflection. Same scar above the left eyebrow.

"Your father."

"No." Liam shook his head. The chains rattled. "I never knew my father. He left before—"

"He left to die." Marcus pocketed the phone. "The Eclipse Council executed him. Tore out his heart with silver blades while he was still in wolf form. Made sure every pack in the territory watched."

The room spun.

"Why?"

"Because he refused to bow." Marcus's voice dropped. "Because he wanted to end the clans. The bloodlines. The old ways that keep us fighting each other instead of growing stronger."

"And you killed him."

"I wasn't there." Something flickered in Marcus's eyes. Shame? Grief? "I was seventeen. Your age. I didn't know what the Council was doing until it was done."

"Doesn't matter." Liam pulled against the chains. Metal groaned. "You're working with them now. You took me for them."

"No." Marcus stepped closer. "I took you because the Council knows about you. They've known since your first moon. They've been watching. Waiting for you to turn twenty-one."

"Why?"

"Because the bloodline awakens at twenty-one. The Wolf King's power passes to the heir. And the Council wants to make sure that heir never claims his throne."

The door burst open.

Light flooded in. Liam squinted, saw shapes moving. Three men. No, four. All carrying something that glinted silver.

"Marcus." A voice like gravel in a blender. "Step away from the bloodline."

Marcus didn't move.

"Council business, Marcus. You know the laws."

"I know." Marcus's hands came out of his pockets. Empty. Open. "I also know what happens when the blood moon rises and there's no Wolf King to lead the hunt."

"You're a beta. Your opinion doesn't matter."

"It matters when I'm the only one in this room who's seen an Execution Day."

The silver glinted brighter. Liam smelled it now. Cold. Sharp. Like a dentist's drill against raw nerve.

"Last warning, Marcus."

Marcus turned. Looked at Liam. His eyes held something that might have been apology.

"Run when you get free," he whispered. "Don't stop running until you find the Moonlit Temple."

Then he spun and slammed into the nearest Council agent.

The chain holding Liam snapped.

He hit the ground hard. Pain flared through his shoulder. He looked up and saw Marcus trading blows with all four men, silver blades slicing through the air, blood spraying across the concrete.

"GO!"

Liam ran.

Bare feet on cold concrete. Through the slaughterhouse, past hanging meat hooks, out a broken window into the night.

Behind him, a howl cut through the darkness.

Not human. Not wolf.

Something in between.

He didn't look back. He just ran, branches whipping his face, rocks cutting his feet, the taste of silver still burning on his tongue.

The forest swallowed him.

---

He collapsed near a stream two hours later.

His lungs burned. His legs shook. Blood dripped from a dozen cuts he didn't remember getting.

The moon hung overhead. Full. Silver. Watching.

*The bloodline will awaken.*

Marcus's words echoed in his skull.

*The Wolf King's power passes to the heir.*

He looked at his hands. Normal hands. Pale skin. A cut on his thumb from breaking a window.

Nothing special.

Nothing kingly.

Then the pain hit.

Not in his muscles. Not in his bones.

In his blood.

Like every vein in his body turned to liquid fire. He screamed, clawed at his arms, watched his skin ripple and shift beneath his fingers.

His bones cracked. Rearranged. His spine arched backward until he heard something pop.

The wolf wanted out.

He fought it.

Pressed his face into the cold stream, let the water fill his lungs, coughed it back up. Anything to stay human. Anything to stay himself.

*You can't fight forever.*

The voice came from inside. Deep. Ancient. Not his own.

*I've been waiting thirty years. You think a little water will stop me?*

Liam's vision blurred. The moon split into two. Three. A dozen silver eyes staring down at him.

"Who are you?" he gasped.

*You know who I am.*

"Alexander."

*The blood remembers. Even if you don't.*

Pain exploded through his chest. He looked down and saw something impossible—a glowing symbol over his heart. A crescent moon wrapped around a wolf's head.

The mark of the Wolf King.

*Seven days,* the voice said. *Seven days until the blood moon ceremony. If you don't master me by then, I will master you.*

"Master you?" Liam laughed, blood on his lips. "I don't even know how to shift."

*Then learn fast, boy.*

The pain receded. Slowly. Like a tide pulling back from shore.

Liam lay in the stream, water flowing over his broken body, staring up at the moon.

He'd found out who his father was.

He'd found out the Council wanted him dead.

He had seven days to learn how to become a king.

And somewhere out in the darkness, the woman with moonlight in her scent was waiting for him.

If he survived the night.

A twig snapped behind him.

He didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Footsteps. Soft. Deliberate.

A shadow fell over him.

"Liam."

Her voice. The woman from the alley. The one with the moonlit eyes.

He turned his head.

She stood over him, silver hair falling past her shoulders, eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. She held out her hand.

"The Moonlit Temple," she said. "I can take you there. But we have to go now."

Liam stared at her hand.

Trust her?

Trust anyone?

The mark on his chest still burned. Alexander's voice still echoed in his skull. Marcus had given his life to free him.

"Who are you?" he asked.

She smiled. Sad. Ancient. Familiar.

"My name is Luna," she said. "And I was your father's mate."