Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 28: The Gathering Of The Teeth

ZAIN

The council room was carved into the bones of the mountain—stone walls etched with history, lit by torches that flickered like they could feel the tension crawling beneath our skin.

Every seat was filled.

Elders in robes lined one side, battle-scarred Alphas the other. Cian stood at my right, expression carved from steel, while Selene lounged to my left like the predator she was, her lips curved in a lazy smirk.

And across the long obsidian table—sat the ones who wished I’d choke on the power they gave me.

"You’re late," Elder Rhagos said, voice brittle with age and arrogance.

I didn’t bother answering. Let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable, let them squirm. I sat at the head of the table and exhaled slowly.

"The rogues," I said, "were coordinated this time."

That shut them up.

Elder Loras leaned forward, face pale. "Coordinated how?"

"They hit the north and eastern borders within ten minutes of each other. Two groups. Trained. Armed. We lost six wolves—three of them high rank."

A murmur rippled through the room.

Cian’s hands tightened behind his back.

"They’re evolving," Selene added coolly. "Thinking like a pack without a code."

"Or with one," I muttered.

Rhagos narrowed his eyes. "You think there’s a leader?"

I nodded. "I don’t think. I know. He came to us during the last raid—looked me in the eye and made a promise."

A beat of silence.

"What kind of promise?" Loras asked.

I met his gaze. "That the hunt has only just begun."

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Some of them shifted in their seats. Others, like Selene, only smiled.

"Could be a bluff," Rhagos offered, though his tone lacked conviction. "Rogues aren’t exactly known for strategy."

"And yet," Cian said dryly, "we keep burying wolves who underestimate them."

The room fell quiet again.

Then came the real question.

"Where is the hunter girl?" someone asked—an Alpha from the southern region. His voice was low, but everyone heard it.

My jaw tensed.

"She’s under control," I replied.

"A threat," Rhagos snapped. "A trained killer. Why keep her breathing?"

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

Part of me still saw her as a tool. A means to understand the hunter factions. A bargaining chip if things with the humans turned bloody.

But another part...

Another part remembered the way her mouth tasted like war and fire. The way her eyes burned with secrets and grief. The way she didn’t flinch when she buried a blade in a rogue’s throat.

"She’s valuable," I said at last. "And no one moves against her without my command."

"And if she turns on you?"

"Then I’ll kill her myself."

That seemed to satisfy them—for now.

The rest of the meeting droned on—territory disputes, resource allocations, pressure from the human world pressing at our borders. But my mind had already drifted.

To her.

To the warning in the rogue’s voice.

To the truth I hadn’t shared.

That the mark on his chest... matched the ancient symbol I’d only seen once before.

Branded into Violet’s arm.

Violet

I shouldn’t be here.

After I left his chambers, I was supposed to head back to my room, but i couldn’t.

I need to know what the meeting was for .

The corridor just outside the council chamber was dimly lit, carved in cold stone and silence, but the heavy wooden doors didn’t seal as tightly as they should’ve.

A crack wide enough to betray secrets.

I pressed closer to it, my breath held in my throat like it might betray me. My palm braced the wall, fingertips brushing the rough grain of ancient history, listening as names and threats were tossed into the air like blades.

They were talking about the rogues. Again.

"They’re evolving," Zain said. His voice sent a sharp jolt down my spine, like cold water down my back.

I leaned in closer, ignoring the sting of the stone against my cheek.

"They’re thinking like a pack," Selene’s voice added—smooth, unbothered, deadly.

A cold knot twisted in my gut. I remembered that rogue. The one who knew my name. Who didn’t lunge blindly like the others. Who had spoken like he wasn’t just there to kill...

He was there for me.

I hadn’t told anyone—not even Inara—that I recognized that mark on his chest. I’d seen it before. Branded into old papers my father once kept hidden. And then again—burning into my own skin when I was ten.

Something ancient. Something cursed.

I swallowed hard.

"Where is the hunter girl?" another voice said. I didn’t recognize it. Deep. Male. Distant but loud enough to make my stomach flip.

"She’s under control," Zain replied.

A pause.

"A threat. A trained killer. Why keep her breathing?"

My breath caught.

There it was.

The sentence I’d been waiting for. The one that might finally seal my fate.

"She’s valuable," Zain said.

Valuable.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. A tool. A chess piece. A blade waiting to be aimed.

"And if she turns on you?" someone pushed.

I braced myself.

"Then I’ll kill her myself."

The words sliced clean through me. And yet... I couldn’t feel rage. Couldn’t even feel surprise. Because wasn’t that always the deal?

The ones who get too close are always the ones with the knives.

I slowly pulled away from the door, heart pounding like war drums in my chest. My feet moved before I could think. Down the corridor, into the shadows, deeper into the hollow veins of the packhouse.

I didn’t cry.

Didn’t let the betrayal sting too loud.

Because I’d expected it.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling.

I needed a plan.

Zain trusted me just enough to let me stay. But not enough to see me as more than a tool. Not yet. If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to use whatever connection we had—I needed to be ahead of him.

I needed to find out what that mark on the rogue meant.

Why it matched mine.

Why my name had been carved into his threat like prophecy.

The second Zain’s voice faded and the council began to rise, I knew I’d overstayed. Footsteps echoed behind the thick doors—heavy boots, purposeful strides—and I turned on instinct, retreating down the corridor in a low crouch.

Too late.

The doors swung open, and I was bathed in the sudden flood of torchlight.

"Going somewhere?"

I froze.

Cian.

His voice was low, almost amused, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it. I turned slowly to find him standing just behind me, arms crossed over his broad chest, golden eyes glinting with suspicion and just a trace of humor.

He didn’t look surprised to see me.

"I was just..." I cleared my throat, trying for casual, even as my heart thundered like a warning drum. "...lost."

Cian raised an eyebrow. "Outside a locked council chamber? During a meeting you weren’t invited to?"

I offered a one-shouldered shrug. "These halls all look the same."

He stared at me for a long, loaded beat, then slowly stepped forward. Not threatening, but deliberate. Each step echoed, not in volume, but in weight.

"You always lie like that, or am I special?" he asked, stopping just a few inches from me.

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze. "You’re not special. Just persistent."

A smirk twitched at the edge of his mouth. "Careful. That kind of attitude might make someone think you’re not afraid of me."

"I’m not." The words came out colder than I expected. Sharper. Too honest.

His smile faded slightly, and something unreadable passed through his expression—thoughtful, maybe even impressed. Then he sighed and looked over his shoulder toward the emptying chamber.

"You heard everything, didn’t you?"

I didn’t answer. Didn’t have to.

He already knew.

When he turned back, his golden gaze hardened just a bit. "If Zain finds out you were listening, there’ll be consequences."

I crossed my arms. "Let me guess. He’ll kill me?"

Cian chuckled. "No. Worse. He’ll make you explain why you did it. And you’ll have to lie to his face. And I’m sure you know that he’ll find out you’re lying before it even leaves your mouth"

I hated how that made my stomach twist.

I hated that I wasn’t sure if I could.

"You going to tell him?" I asked, squaring my shoulders.

Cian leaned in slightly. "Depends. Did you hear anything worth dying for?"

I held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

Then I said, softer this time, "He said he’d kill me himself if I turned on him."

Something flickered behind Cian’s eyes.

"Then don’t turn on him," he said, and to my surprise, there wasn’t malice in his tone—just quiet warning.

"But if you’re smart," he added, stepping back and gesturing down the corridor, "you’ll stay out of things that aren’t meant for you. You’ve already made it further than anyone expected."

He started to turn.

"What was that mark on the rogue?" I asked quickly.

Cian froze, mid-step.

He didn’t face me. Didn’t speak for a second too long.

"You don’t want to know, hunter."

"I think I already do."

Finally, he turned back, eyes shadowed. "Then pray you’re wrong."

With that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone in the dark corridor, one truth clearer than ever:

There were things in this world far more dangerous than being hunted.

Like being remembered or recognized.