Page 95 of The Cursed Wolf King

The stench almost overwhelmed me as we crossed into Heraclid land on foot, our bikes left behind at the edge of their territory so we could avoid detection. We’d have to trek for hours to reach the main Heraclid city by following the borders, but the time lost would be worth it for the element of surprise.

The trees here were the same as those on Orion lands—towering evergreens swaying gently in the wind—but the energy was dark and oppressive. My wolf bristled, the bond between us tightening as if he, too, felt the burden of the place.

I passed Rhys a small leather pouch, the faint aroma of wild herbs seeping through the seams. “Mask your scent,” I instructed him.

Rhys sniffed the pouch and wrinkled his nose. “Smells like something died in here.”

“Do you want to smell like fresh Orion blood instead?” I shot back, a growl undercutting my words. He grumbledand rubbed the mixture into his skin, muttering curses under his breath.

We pressed on. While on the highway we reached Heraclid borders in good time, it would take the better part of a day to reach the main Heraclid area on foot. We moved silently through the dense forest that bordered the Heraclid pack’s territory. The usual checkpoints, the scent markers, the patrols that should have been there—they were either absent or minimal. It was unnerving. Heraclid wasn’t known for being careless, but their defenses were slack, almost negligent.

Rhys leaned closer as we ducked behind a rocky outcrop. “Why the hell is it so quiet? I thought they’d be swarming with scouts.”

“They’re overconfident,” I murmured. “Or preoccupied.”

We crept farther in, our senses on high alert. The first sign of life was a small cluster of wolves hauling firewood near a weathered cabin. Two appeared to be teenagers, their movements sluggish, as if they hadn’t eaten. Their heads were bowed low in submission as an older wolf barked orders at them, before cracking a whip that snapped one of them in the neck. He stumbled while the other one flinched.

“That’s not discipline,” Rhys muttered. “That’s suffering.”

My wolf growled in agreement, his rage simmering beneath the surface. Grayson kept them in line through domination. It was the only way he knew how to lead. Even I had believed it was hidden under a veneer of respect, of dedication and loyalty.

But this was blatant tyranny.

We moved deeper, passing a small clearing where agroup of wolves sat in a circle. Their shoulders sagged, and their postures were defeated. An elderly wolf tried to speak, but a younger one snapped at him, silencing him with a low snarl. No one intervened. The bond here was all submission.

Rhys stopped abruptly, his jaw tight as he scanned the scene. “This isn’t a pack,” he said quietly. “It’s a prison.”

I nodded. Orion wasn’t perfect, but we fought for each other. We thrived because of our pack bond, not despite it. Seeing this made my stomach churn and my determination burn hotter. The Heraclids weren’t just a threat to us—they were a risk for all Shadow Moon packs.

The sun began to set and shadows cloaked us as we crouched behind a crumbling stone wall. The wind carried snatches of conversation from the Heraclids gathered near a makeshift fire pit. Their voices were low, gruff, laced with frustration. I signaled to Rhys with a sharp hand gesture, and he stilled beside me.

The scent of damp earth and charred wood filled the air as we listened, the Heraclids oblivious to us.

“They think they can walk in here and call the shots?” one growled. “Grayson’s already sold us out to those so-called alphas.”

A second voice, deeper and more measured, responded. “Does it matter? If it means keeping Orion in check, I say let them.”

My wolf bristled, snarling in my chest. I pressed a hand against the stone, grounding myself as my pulse thundered in my ears.

“It’s not about keeping Orion in check,” another chimed in, his tone bitter. “It’s about making sure they’re the example.If we crush them, the rest of the packs will fall in line, and it starts withher.”

Her.

I exchanged a glance with Rhys, whose jaw was clenched so tightly I thought he might crack a tooth.

“They’ve already weakened themselves,” the first one said. “Grayson’s waiting for the right time to strike. Then we’ll be golden.”

A low growl escaped Rhys, and I shot him a warning glare. The Heraclids paused, their ears perked and bodies tense. My wolf prepared, ready to spring, but the moment passed, and they resumed their conversation.

“Tomorrow’s the night,” the second one said. “Grayson wants everything in place by then. If we can get in on some of what those packs have going with the human traders, using that oracle wolf as our collateral, we’ll be set.”

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the Heraclids’ faces.

What the fuck are they talking about?Some pieces were falling into place, while others weren’t even in the puzzle. I’d been sure they were planning to attackus, to use Orion as the scapegoat for something larger, a show of dominance to solidify their power. This was something else entirely.

Rhys adjusted his position beside me. “We should grab one of them after. Bring them home and get them to talk.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I asked. “You want us to play into their game?”

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