The stench of iron and secrets filled the air beneath the Alpha Hall.
As we went farther beneath, Jace walked in front of me, the long shadows made by the torchlight on the small stone walls. With each step resonating like a heartbeat in a coffin, the secret stairs creaked.
Rowan's drawing burned in my coat pocket. I couldn't stop thinking about the words he whispered.
"Soon, the moon will bleed… and I'll be free."
A child shouldn't know those words. Shouldn't dream about broken moons and hidden prisons. But the look in his eyes when he said it…
He believed it.
Which meant someone—something—put it in his mind.
And Jace thought the answers might be here.
"This chamber wasn't part of the original hall," Jace murmured as we reached the bottom.
He pressed a hand to the old stone wall. A click echoed, followed by the groan of a hidden mechanism.
The wall shifted.
A secret door opened.
We were struck by cold air that was stale and harsh, and it smelled like something metallic and strange to me.
I stepped in behind him.
Beyond was a tiny, windowless chamber with a stone floor carved with sigils I hadn't seen since my training days. Most were harmless—symbols of memory, blood, bond—but others were older. Forbidden. Leftover from a time before the High Council banned instinct manipulation.
"What is this place?" I whispered.
"My father told me it was a vault for rare artifacts," Jace said. "But I never had clearance to enter until after his death. Garrick took over as guardian of the vault before I became Alpha."
"And he never mentioned this room?"
Jace's jaw tightened. "No."
We moved slowly through the chamber.
In the center stood a reinforced iron table. Its surface was covered in scratches—and faint, dried blood.
I touched the edge and flinched.
The steel was cold. Too cold. As if it remembered pain.
"This wasn't a vault," I said. "It was an exam room."
Jace's gaze shifted to a filing cabinet set into the wall. He gave me a folder that he had taken out.
It was labeled "Patient Records: Control Test Series 3."
Inside were profiles.
Not just of rogues.
But pack members.
Including infants.
"Moonlight," I breathed. "These are… these are experiment logs."
Jace looked grim. "Test series. Medical procedures. Bond suppression trials. One entry listed Rowan's blood signature before he was even a month old."
"But how?" I asked. "I never brought him near Thorn lands."
"Unless someone took samples before you left."
A memory flashed—giving birth in an isolated town, the strange midwife who disappeared after one visit, the man who paid my medical bill in full and never gave his name.
"I was watched," I whispered.
"They knew what he was from the beginning," Jace said. "And they wanted him."
We read more.
A name showed up repeatedly across reports: Dr. Elian Voss.
A geneticist. Formerly exiled for instinct experimentation. Believed dead.
His notes were chilling.
"Subject 4C shows reactive energy even during unconscious state. Bond memory pathways are unnaturally strong. The blood may hold the key to generational imprinting."
Another note:
"If paired with a pure Alpha trigger, the subject could awaken the dormant pack core."
"What the hell is a pack core?" I asked.
Jace's expression darkened. "It's a theory from old times. That some packs have a psychic center—a wolf born with a spiritual bond to every other member. If controlled, it could turn the entire pack into an army of loyal drones."
"Like a living Alpha link."
"Exactly."
My hands trembled. "They wanted Rowan to be their weapon."
We left the chamber in silence.
Back in the daylight, the world felt sharper. The sun too bright. The wind too loud.
The shadows we carried from that room didn't fade.
They clung to us like blood on fur.
Jace convened a meeting with the healer, Reed, and his Beta that evening.
The war room, a high-ceilinged hall adorned with ceremonial swords, stone shelves, and ancient maps, was where we assembled.
Milo, one of my closest pals from my exile years, was with Rowan. A former rogue who owed me a life-debt. I trusted him more than I trusted half this pack.
Jace laid the files out on the table.
Reed swore under his breath. The healer looked ready to faint.
"This can't be real," she murmured. "The council banned instinct tampering after the Great Sundering."
"And yet here it is," I said. "In our Alpha's own bloodline."
Jace clenched his fists. "We need to find Dr. Voss. If he's alive, he might know how to undo whatever was done to Rowan."
"But if he's working for your uncle—"
"Then we take him down," Jace snapped. "All of them."
Reed looked between us. "We need evidence before we make a move against the council."
"We need more than that," I said. "We need time."
That night, Rowan had another episode.
However, things were different this time.
The sound of buzzing awakened me up.
Low. Melodic. It seemed familiar in a manner that made me shiver.
I sat up.
With his eyes open but not focused, Rowan stood at the window. His little figure was silvered by the moonlight, and the floor's shadows twisted as if alive.
He was singing.
"When the moonlight cracks and the blood runs red,
The sleeping wolf shall rise from bed.
Marked by fire, born from pain,
He'll tear the sky and break the chain…"
I rushed to him.
"Rowan," I said, kneeling. "It's only a dream, baby."
He blinked.
Looked at me.
Then whispered:
"The man with the glass eyes is coming."
I froze.
"What man?"
Rowan pressed his face into my chest.
"The one who made me bleed."