"It strikes a nerve when I mention him, right?" Gerald said, pausing briefly. "I can understand your resentment toward the events that shaped your youth. I was there when your mother gave birth to you. At the time, I was one of Curtis' political advisors. I remember the fear in Lady Helena's eyes as she looked at you—a sign, perhaps, that she couldn't reconcile raising her son in a place like this. I can only assume she fled without Curtis' consent because their visions as parents clashed, compounded by the chaos of forbidden alliances between clans."

"Is it true, that my parents plotted against the vampires along with Chief Harrow to steal the elder's essence?"

Gerald sighed. "If I told you yes, it would only be speculation. To be honest, I don't know. Even if you ask Curtis himself, he refuses to talk about it. At that time, everything unraveled in an instant, and before I realized it, we were running for our lives. Most of Curtis' pack was slaughtered by the vampire enforcers, and the few who survived either scattered into the northern forests or fell in line with Dylan's power-hungry reign."

I've always been able to discern when someone is lying, shrouding their intentions with empty excuses, and when they're speaking the truth. Gerald's heartbeat remained steady, his breathing calm and unhurried. He struck me as a man who had already come to terms with the consequences of his actions—or perhaps one who was simply weary of life itself. Fortunately for him, I wasn't in the mood to claim anyone's life today.

"I assume, you knew Harold?"

Gerald lowered his head. "If we're speaking of the same man, then yes, I did. Harold was... ambitious, to say the least. We often clashed over his methods and the way he wanted to lead the clan, but we managed to get along despite our differences. His departure left a bitter taste of betrayal among the pack—and ignited an unquenchable rage in Curtis when he discovered Harold had fled to the human world with Lady Helena."

"Since I was young, I've always believed Harold was my real father," I said, crossing my arms. "It wasn't until I set foot in Adams that I learned the truth. Regardless of his past, Harold treated me with decency while we lived together. I believe he was forced to bring me here after my mother was murdered, though I can't prove it—not yet. Harold met a cruel end, killed by a silver bolt after being chained in a cave for days. His funeral will take place tomorrow—you're welcome to join us."

The old man stared at me, puzzled.

"I don't understand, young master. Are you saying, there's a possibility you'll let me live?"

"I'm considering it, for now. I simply see no reason to kill a man who speaks the truth."

"But I invaded your home and endangered your servants," he said, shaking his head. "Yet you chose to feed and clothe someone as worthless as me. Why?"

"The answer is simple, you assumed I would act like your former alpha, forcing you to plead for your life. But my approach is different. My plan, after this conversation, was to determine whether you deserved a quick and dignified end or a long and agonizing one. I fed and clothed you because I believe everyone should be treated with decency—even when facing death. However, it seems fortune is on your side today. I have no inclination to kill someone as knowledgeable as you. That's why I extended an invitation to Harold's funeral. Afterward, I'll make my final decision—whether to keep you around or send you away."

"Until then, conduct yourself as the educated man you appear to be, especially in the presence of Annie and her mother. I will not tolerate any disrespect toward the members of this household."

Hearing the tone of my own voice, I realized that making threats wasn't true to who I am. Gerald had made a grave mistake by joining the other werewolves in their attack on my home—a mistake that nearly cost him his life. But I saw another way to handle the situation, one that wouldn't compromise my authority over the clan.

I opened the heavy metal door and gripped the cuffs on his wrists, shattering them with ease. "Let's make a deal, Gerald. The bodies of the other five werewolves are in the barn behind the estate. Take them back to Dylan and lay them at his feet. Tell him you've returned to deliver a message from me."

Gerald stretched his hand, now free from the metal cuffs. "It will be done, young master. Tell me, what message shall I deliver?"

"Tell Dylan, that if he attacks this house one more time, I will be waiting for him."

"You know he'll likely try to kill me the moment I set foot in his territory with the bodies of his men."

I nodded, acknowledging the risk. "I'll send Derrick and Antolio with you. They'll carry the clan's crest as a symbol of my authority. If Dylan dares to harm any of you, he will face my wrath without mercy. Once your task is complete, the choice will be yours: return to Curtis or come back here with us."

Gerald's face lit up, as a smile spread across his face. "Thank you. You won't regret your decision, young master."

"Harold's body is being prepared for the pyre," I said. "You should wait for Derrick and Antolio to return before carrying out your task. In the meantime, speak with Lydia—she'll arrange one of the upstairs bedrooms for you. And as a suggestion, take a warm bath while you wait."

Gerald's expression shifted; his face clouded with confusion. "Is everything alright?" I asked.

"Please, forgive me. It's just... I find it hard to believe someone would show kindness to me. It's been a long time since I've experienced such generosity."

I rested my hand on his shoulder, giving him a smile. "Go ahead and get some rest. I have two hunters to deal with. I also have to find a burial site for Harold that the Scarlet clan will agree to."

Gerald took a step back, his face pale with terror. "Moonshade Hollow," he whispered. "Please tell me you're not seriously considering burying Harold there."

"I hadn't heard the name before. But according to Lydia, it's a werewolf cemetery—one that's said to be haunted."

"Haunted doesn't even begin to describe it," Gerald said. "It's the stronghold of a group of warlock deserters—practitioners of necromancy. Moonshade Hollow is far from town, nestled near the mountains to the northwest. The area is cloaked in perpetual darkness, with thick foliage that has always blocked out the sun's rays. The vampires won't allow Harold to be buried near the town because of our supernatural nature and the superstitions they've spread among the people. They fear werewolves might rise from the grave as rabid beasts, attacking anything in their path—even their own kind. But those tales are wrong. The so-called corpses walking around and skeletal werewolves preying on the weak—they're nothing more than puppets. The real threat we need to fear is their masters."

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Gerald's expression darkened, lowering the tone of his voice. "I've seen firsthand what these necromancers are capable of and let me tell you... their magic is terrifying. Moonshade Hollow was the site of a massacre during the first war of the clans, over two hundred years ago. Hundreds of werewolves were slaughtered there, and the soil is said to be saturated with their blood and bones. Their souls are trapped, roaming the hollow, searching for a way out. That's why necromancers are drawn to it—it's a place steeped in death, where they can bind the spirits of the deceased in exchange for false promises of freedom. But those spirits rarely escape. Instead, they end up serving their masters for centuries."

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor echoed from the Gathering room, pulling my attention away. It seemed our guests were growing restless.

"Our conversation will have to wait. We'll speak more when you return if that is the decision you want to pursue. I'm curious to hear more about these necromancers."

"We will see each other eye to eye, young master," Gerald said as he walked away.

I made my way back to the gathering room, only to be greeted by an unusual sight. Closing the door behind me, I watched as Utica's partner entertained not one but three ferrets, all scurrying about on the table. The moment they noticed me, the ferrets darted toward their master, perching on his shoulders and peering at me with curious eyes.

"Don't mind them. They are just... curious about you," the male hunter said.

I sat down across from them, already doubting this conversation would yield anything useful. Fixing my gaze on Utica, I decided to set the tone by addressing the obvious.

"Let's be clear. I've returned with the assumption that you won't answer my question. So why don't we save ourselves some time and end this conversation now?"

Utica nodded in agreement and began to rise from her seat. But her partner reached out, grabbing her hand and halting her. He stared at her, slowly shaking his head. Utica, clearly displeased, reluctantly sat back down, her expression brimming with frustration.

I interlaced my fingers, looking intently at them, aware that my next question would be a blunt one. "Now that we understand each other, are you going to tell me who was responsible for firing the bolt at Harold?"

The male hunter leaned over, whispering something into Utica's ear. Her expression changed, as she whispered back. What they failed to realize, however, was that werewolf senses are far sharper than they accounted for—I could hear every word.

"We're aware of who issued the command," Utica said. "But the identity of the hunter remains unknown. The order came from the Lord Inquisitor; it could have been any recon hunter who fired the bolt."

Their response was just as evasive as I had anticipated, carefully sidestepping the core of my question.

"Let's lay it all on the table, shall we?" I said, staring directly at her. "Your thirst for power is unmistakable. You don't need to declare your readiness to lead—it's written all over you. You see an opportunity in Chief Harrow's weak grasp of leadership. But whispering in secret will get you nowhere. I can hear everything, Utica. Even when you're silent, your heartbeat, the energy you exude, and the rhythm of your breath betray you. They tell me what you're thinking long before you speak. And let's be honest, I doubt you have a solid offer that would convince me to form an alliance with you. But here's the kicker for you and your hunter clan—before Harold died, he managed to identify his captors."

"And you are not planning on sharing that information, are you?" Utica asked.

"I might," I said, leaning back slightly. "If you tell me who shot the bolt at Harold."

Her partner leaned toward her again, whispering something in her ear, ignoring the fact that I had already told them such secrecy was pointless.

"That sounds like a great Idea. Restarting the conversation, as your hunter friend suggested, might get you what you're aiming for. Less tension, more transparency. I suggest you speak openly, I'll hear every word you want to say," I paused, as a smile spread across my face. "It's a wolf thing."

The hunter placed his hands flat on the table, lowering his head as if finally acknowledging that secrecy was no longer an option.

"My apologies, young Master. I am Kalen Franco, head of intelligence and the investigations division for the Hunter Clan. Additionally, I serve as a political advisor to Utica in her bid for leadership among the hunters."

"And the little ones?" I asked, gesturing toward the ferrets.

With a sharp whistle, Kalen called the ferrets to attention. They perked up instantly, emerging from their hiding spots and lining up neatly on the table.

"The black sable-colored one is Omos, the eldest of the three. The albino is my pretty lady, Olei. And the most curious of the trio, you've already met, Omir. They're highly trained to infiltrate spaces we can't easily access and locate specific objects."

"Cute, but I doubt you brought a summon order just to introduce your furry companions. Please, get to the point."

"You're already aware of the chaos within the hunter clan," Kalen said. "What started as an experimental test has spiraled completely out of control. We've come to propose combining our forces to capture the hybrids responsible for the havoc in Adams. Our leadership has turned a blind eye to the problem, leaving us no choice but to act. We must move quickly before the hunter clan collapses from within."

"We've received reports from all over town about attacks carried out by subjects from the hybrid program," Utica added, gently holding Omir in her hands. "I want to get these individuals under control before the situation spirals further and more lives are lost due to Harrow's negligence in addressing the problem. There are only a couple of months left before the first trumpet sounds across Adams Town, signaling the first wave. By then, if we don't get these people under our control, the hunter clan will cease to exist. I believe I can provide a solution to this issue, and lead the hunter to a better future."

"Have you brought your concerns to the elder's attention?" I asked.

"I haven't. The hunter clan is still officially in charge of the town's safety until the end of October. Seeking assistance from the vampires would not be in our best interest."

"Which means the vampires are unaware of these hybrids," I said. "And it's unlikely you'd seek their help without revealing how you're obtaining the elder's essence. Speaking of which—how are you getting it?"

Kalen and Utica exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. "Chief Harrow has never revealed how he acquires the essence. But I can assure you, he has enough to conduct experiments on every hunter in the clan—including the new recruits," Kalen said. "Harrow has decided, he wants to stay in power. He plans to eliminate the other three clans during the upcoming culling of Adams Town, regardless of the cost. We have entered into conversations with him and the inquisitor, but they have not yielded a result. Chief Harrow is infatuated with having the upper hand in the war."

After a brief pause, I decided to voice my decision. "I can't help you."

A heavy silence fell over the gathering room as my immediate response took them by surprise. "I will not involve myself in the internal conflicts of your clan. While I appreciate your assistance with the rogue hunters near the cave where Harold was held, it doesn't change the fact—you are one of the hybrids."

Utica gazed at Kalen, confused. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't bother hiding your thirst for power, Utica. I can smell the stench of rotten blood emanating from you as the essence transforms your body. The hunter hybrid we eliminated exuded the same scent—but yours is far more potent. Which means you're either nearing the end of your transformation or... you've already have become a vampire."

I shifted my gaze to Kalen, catching the shock etched across his face. "I'm guessing you weren't aware of that little detail, were you?"

I rose from my chair and walked toward the door. "This conversation is over. I trust you know your way out. But there's one thing I need to make clear, Utica. If Mel gets hurt because of your actions—directly or indirectly—I will never forgive you. Leave her out of your mess."

Utica shot to her feet, slamming the table with a burst of anger. "We don't need your help! I never expected you to agree anyway, considering your pack consists of a few lesser werewolves and yourself. By the time the third trumpet blares across town, you and your pathetic little pack of powerless wolves won't stand a chance."

She stepped in front of me, blocking my path, glaring at me. "Pray we don't cross paths during the war. I won't hesitate to bring you down. Once I leave this room, consider me your enemy. Kalen, let's go."

Kalen hesitated as he approached the door, slowing his exit. He stopped briefly in front of me. "Thank you for the warning, and don't take her too seriously—she's just angry. There's something we need to discuss later. I'll send Omir to you with the details."

I nodded, silently watching as he left the Gathering room.