Page 92 of The Blood Moon Oath

I raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “And the second tribe? Were they still laughing when you showed up?”

A corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smile. “No. They’d heard of me by then. Knew I was coming. When I arrived at their gates, their Alpha was waiting. Older. Stronger. The kind of man who thought arrogance was the same as power.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “He looked at me and saw a boy pretending to be a man.”

“And what did you see?” I ask softly.

Kael’s gaze sharpens, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine. “I saw weakness disguised as strength. And I took it apart, piece by piece.”

He shifts, his shoulders squaring as if he’s still standing in that moment. “I challenged him in front of his people. The fight was brutal. He hit hard, like a hammer. But strength without control is nothing. He fought like an animal, swinging blindly, expecting me to charge in the same way. I didn’t. I moved with precision, striking where it hurt most, drawing the fight out until he was gasping for air.”

I can picture it—the cold, the tension, Kael standing amidst the snow, unyielding. “And then?”

“I drove my blade through his chest,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “The tribe fell silent. Their warriors dropped their weapons, their gazes shifting from him to me. And in that moment, I saw the shift. They weren’t just afraid. They respected me.”

I nod slowly, letting the weight of his words settle. “Respect earned in blood,” I murmur.

“That’s the only kind that lasts,” he replies.

He leans back slightly, his gaze hardening as he continues. “The third tribe was different. They didn’t have an Alpha. They were ruled by a council—a group of warlocks who relied more on magic than physical strength. They thought their spells would protect them. They thought wrong.”

I tilt my head, intrigued. “What did you do?”

“Studied them. Their routines, their movements, their weaknesses. When we struck, it was swift and calculated. I led the charge, my blade cutting through their defenses while my warlocks countered their spells. By the time the sun rose, their leadership was gone, and their people knelt before me.”

He pauses, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. “Each tribe was different, but the result was always the same. Some fought fiercely. Others surrendered quickly. I took their strongest warriors, their most skilled magic users, and brought them into my fold. The rest... I left behind.”

“Left behind?” I press, my voice sharp. “Or killed?”

His gaze snaps to mine, cold and unyielding. “The ones who resisted died. The rest were spared. I don’t kill without purpose.”

I hold his stare, refusing to flinch. “You don’t seem to struggle with it, though.”

He leans forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. “When you’ve been weak—when you’ve been cast aside and forgotten—you learn quickly that mercy is a luxury you can’t afford.”

The weight of his words presses down on me, but I refuse to let it break me. “And by the time you were done?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

“By the time I was twenty-eight,” he says, his tone levelingout again, “the northern tribes were no longer fractured. They were mine.”

There’s silence between us for a moment, the gravity of what he’s said hanging in the air. I can see it now—the path he’s carved out for himself, the blood he’s shed, the sacrifices he’s made. It’s not just a story. It’s a part of him, woven into every muscle, every scar.

“And now?” I ask softly. “Do you feel like you’ve won?”

Kael’s lips press into a thin line. “They call me Alpha. They respect me. Fear me. But power is fragile, held together by fear and loyalty. And loyalty is fleeting.” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “They see the Alpha. But I still see the boy. And sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever escape him.”

The raw honesty in his words stirs something in me, something I don’t quite know how to name. I reach out, my fingers brushing against his arm. He tenses but doesn’t pull away.

“You’re not that boy anymore,” I say quietly. “And you’re not alone.”

For a moment, I think he might argue, but he just looks at me, his expression unreadable. And in that moment, I see the man behind the title—the man who’s carried the weight of the north on his shoulders for years, who’s built an empire out of blood and stone, but still feels the cold.

“Maybe,” he says finally, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “But the cold doesn’t go away.”

“No,” I agree, my hand still resting on his arm. “But maybe it doesn’t have to.”

Kael doesn’t respond immediately to what I’ve said. He just watches me, his sharp, ice-blue eyes studying me as though he’s trying to decide whether I’m worth the effort. The weight of his gaze is almost too much, but I refuse to look away.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer than I expected. “And what about you?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve been here for weeks, fighting, training, binding yourself to... us. What are you struggling with, Sable?”

The question catches me off guard, though I suppose it shouldn’t. Kael isn’t the kind of man to hand out vulnerability without expecting something in return. Still, the words sit heavy in my chest, a knot of emotions tangled too tightly to unravel.

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