Chapter 28: The Kin Slayer

The man who stepped into the torchlight was tall and broad-shouldered, with the solid, predatory build of a wolf who had never lost a challenge. Dark hair was pulled back from a scarred face. One long, pale scar ran from his left temple down across his cheek, ending near the corner of his mouth. His eyes were a hard, amber gold that reflected the mage-light like an animal’s. Everything about him radiated the kind of authority that had been taken by force rather than given.

Alpha Conrad.

Even before the name was fully registered, Adrian’s entire body went rigid. A low, venomous hiss tore from his throat. The sound was pure hatred.

Conrad’s mouth curved into a cold, humorless smile.

"Nice to meet you too, Adrian."

Asher looked between them. The air in the cell had turned sharp enough to cut. Whatever history existed between the Vampire Lord and this Alpha was old, personal, and still bleeding.

Conrad stepped fully into the cell, boots splashing lightly in the thin film of water on the stone. He barely glanced at Adrian’s half-healed wounds or the blood still staining the floor. His attention settled on Asher with the assessing interest of a man examining a useful tool.

"I’ll be taking the human," Conrad said mildly. "You can remain here for now. Try not to kill any more of my men. They’re already demanding your head for the nine you murdered on the road."

Adrian’s eyes, still carrying a faint trace of the red-black intensity from earlier, locked onto the Alpha.

"Why don’t you come and get my head then?" he rasped. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you?"

Conrad’s smile widened a fraction, showing the edge of teeth that were slightly too sharp to be human. He did not rise to the bait. Instead he simply gestured with two fingers. Two large wolves in human form entered the cell and hauled Asher to his feet.

Adrian lunged forward despite his injuries. The chains that had been added while he was unconscious snapped tight, yanking him back against the wall with a metallic clang.

"Don’t you lay a finger on that boy!" Adrian’s voice cracked with fury. "Conrad—!"

Conrad ignored him completely. He turned and walked out of the cell as if Adrian’s rage were nothing more than background noise. The two escorts dragged Asher after him. The last thing Asher heard before the heavy door slammed shut was Adrian’s raw, wordless snarl of protest.

The corridors of the wolf stronghold were rough-hewn stone and timber, lit by flickering torches rather than the elegant mage-lights of the vampire manor. The air smelled of woodsmoke, wet fur, and iron. Asher was marched upward through several levels until the crude lower cells gave way to more finished halls.

They stopped before a solid wooden door. Conrad pushed it open and stepped aside.

The room beyond was a stark improvement over the cell. It was still clearly part of a fortress rather than a palace, but it had a real bed, a small table, a washbasin, and a narrow window set high in the wall. A fire burned in a stone hearth, driving back some of the damp cold.

Conrad nodded to a waiting maid — a young woman with lowered eyes and the careful posture of someone who knew better than to draw attention.

"Bring food. And water for washing."

The maid hurried away.

Conrad turned to Asher and gestured toward the room with an open hand, the picture of rough hospitality.

"You’re free to clean up first if you prefer. The road and the cell were not kind."

Asher remained standing just inside the doorway. He did not move toward the basin or the bed. His wrist still throbbed faintly where Adrian had fed, and the claim ring sat heavy on his finger like a reminder of every other powerful being who had decided he belonged to them.

"I’d like to know why I was kidnapped by wolves," he said flatly.

Conrad laughed. The sound was low and genuinely amused, as if Asher had told a clever joke.

"Sit down, human boy."

When Asher did not immediately obey, one of the escorts gave him a light shove toward the single wooden chair near the table. Asher sat, jaw tight.

Conrad took the opposite seat, leaning back with the easy confidence of a man who had killed his way to the top and never once looked down. The firelight caught the scar on his face and the hard gold of his eyes.

"I’ve heard interesting things about you," Conrad said. "A human fortune teller who sees clearer than most seers twice his age."

Asher’s stomach turned. Word of his skills had already spread, and he didn’t know if he should be scared or proud.

Conrad continued, voice almost conversational. "I am at war. Not with the vampires, not yet at least. But with rival packs and certain territories that have forgotten the old agreements. I need every advantage I can take, and you are going to give me one."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"You will read the outcomes of my battles. You will tell me where to strike, when to hold, and whether the next fight will end in my favor. For your first task, we start small. Tomorrow at dawn I meet a challenger who thinks he can take my title. Tell me now — will I be successful in that fight?"

Asher stared at him.

The request was simple on the surface and monstrous underneath. Conrad was not asking for a vague glimpse of possibility. He was demanding a tool that could tip the balance of bloodshed, and he had already demonstrated he was willing to tear through a Vampire Lord’s protection to obtain it.

Asher’s gift stirred restlessly under his skin, as if it already sensed the weight of the question hanging in the air. Asher knew his gift didn’t always give accurate predictions, and he was scared that doing this once would only make the Alpha want to keep him here longer. He wondered what would happen if he said no to the Alpha, and he already dreaded what would happen if he gave in.

Conrad waited, patient and predatory, the kin-slayer who had murdered his own brothers for power and now expected a human fortune teller to help him keep it.

"Well?" Conrad said softly. "Will I win tomorrow?"