Chapter 9: The Vow of Steel
The news hit the village of Redpaveley like a thunderclap. After the events of the Crimson Moon, the Council didn't just want the alliance—they wanted it locked in stone.
"Saturday," my father, Drac, announced, slamming a heavy gold-embossed scroll onto the table. "The Council has decided. The union between the House of Drac and the Silvermoon Pack will be finalized in three days. They believe if you are officially married, the 'instability' Marcus is preaching about will disappear."
"Three days?" Wolfie's voice was sharp. She was sitting on the edge of our sofa, her arm bandaged from where she'd shifted too fast during the eclipse. "We aren't ready, Drac. Seraphina and Marcus... they aren't going to just sit in the front row and toss flower petals. They're going to try to kill us."
"Which is why," I said, standing up and checking the edge of my hidden blade, "we aren't spending the next three days picking out flowers. We're going to the Old Ruins."
While the village was busy decorating the town square with white roses and silver banners, Wolfie and I disappeared into the deep woods. We didn't need a dance instructor; we needed to learn how to fight as one.
The training was brutal.
"Again!" I shouted, my vampire speed allowing me to vanish into the mist and reappear behind her.
Wolfie roared, her body half-shifting—claws out, eyes glowing—as she spun with an agility that no human could match. She didn't look for me with her eyes; she looked for me with her scent. She lunged, and I caught her wrists, our energies clashing like a physical spark.
"You're too open on the left," I whispered, my face inches from hers. "Marcus will see that. He fights like a brawler, but Seraphina... she'll use her light to blind you from that side."
Wolfie growled, but she nodded, her breathing heavy. "And you? You're too fast for your own good, City Boy. You're trying to do everything alone. You have to let me be the shield so you can be the blade."
We practiced until the sun dipped below the horizon. We discovered something strange: when we touched, our powers didn't just coexist—they amplified. If I held her hand while she shifted, the "fever" that usually clouded her mind stayed clear. If she leaned against me, my vampire coldness turned into a focused, icy calm that made my reflexes twice as fast.
We were becoming something the supernatural world hadn't seen in centuries: a Syndicate of Blood and Fur.
"They won't see us coming," Wolfie panted, leaning her head against my shoulder as we sat on a mossy log. The moon was rising, but it was a normal, white moon tonight. "They think we're just a contract. They think we're a girl who loses her mind and a boy who hides in the dark."
"Let them think that," I said, reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a small, dark velvet box. "My father gave me this today. It belonged to my mother."
I opened it to reveal two rings. They weren't gold or silver. They were made of Obsidian and Moonstone, forged together in a twisted, elegant band.
"They say that once these are on," I whispered, sliding the smaller one onto her finger, "the bond can never be broken. Not by magic, and not by death."
Wolfie looked at the ring, then up at me. The "cheerful girl" was still there, but there was a new, iron-willed queen standing beside her. "Then let them come, Drayan. Let them try to stop us. I want to see the look on Seraphina's face when she realizes her 'perfection' can't break what we've built."
But as we walked back toward the village, a cold, golden light flickered in the trees. Seraphina wasn't hiding anymore. She stood in the center of the path, her wings glowing with a sickly, over-bright light. Beside her, Marcus stood with a heavy silver claymore, his eyes dark with the poison of jealousy.
"The wedding of the century," Seraphina mocked, her voice echoing through the woods. "How touching. But you forgot one thing, Drayan."
"What's that?" I asked, stepping in front of Wolfie, my fangs extending.
"A wedding needs a priest," she sneered, raising her hands as a circle of celestial fire erupted around us. "And a funeral only needs a grave. Marcus? Show the 'happy couple' what happens to those who defy the Heavens."
The training was over. The wedding was three days away. But the battle for Redpaveley had just begun.