Shadow of the Pact

Sasha

The night smells of ash and blood.

I move through the dark alleys of the city, the damp air clinging to my skin. My heart pounds, not from fear but from rage. Tonight, my father tried to seal my fate with a ring and an alliance that are not mine to accept.

"You must think of the pack, Sasha."

"An Alpha does not choose their mate out of love, but out of duty."

His words still burn in my mind, scorching more than the flames of war. The Morvan pack has ruled this city for decades, and as the Alpha's daughter, I am expected to uphold that legacy. But I am not some bargaining chip, not a princess to be married off for the sake of an empire.

I am not a fucking prisoner.

My boots hit the wet pavement harder as I quicken my pace. I don't have a destination, only the desperate need to escape the golden cage closing in around me. My father thinks I'll break, just like all the others before me. But I am not like them.

Anger pulses through my veins, mingling with the fever of my wolf, who howls inside me. The urge to bite, to rip, to sink my teeth into flesh until I taste warm blood floods my senses. The hunger is overwhelming. But I hold it back. I cage it inside, where it cannot betray me.

I slip into a narrower alley, where the neon lights of rundown bars flicker uncertainly. This district, I know it like the back of my hand. It belongs to us. Every street, every shop, every goddamn brick is under Morvan control. And yet, tonight, I feel no sense of belonging. Only exhaustion.

I am tired of fighting. Tired of proving that I deserve more than a submissive role in an arranged marriage.

A cold wind snakes through the alley, carrying the scent of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke. The world around me is alive with predators lurking in the shadows-humans who think they are dangerous, criminals who don't know what true power is. If they knew who I was, what I was, they would run.

But I don't want them to run.

I want to sink my claws into something, to make someone pay for the rage boiling inside me.

A low growl vibrates through my chest as I turn a corner, my body still tense, every nerve on edge. That's when I feel it.

A presence.

Not human. Not wolf.

Something colder. Darker.

Vampire.

My instincts sharpen instantly. I should turn back, return to my world, where I know the rules, where my father still holds my leash. But instead, I step forward.

Because tonight, I am done following orders.

Sasha

The presence lingers in the air like a cold whisper, a silent challenge slithering over my skin. My wolf bristles inside me, her hackles raised, instincts screaming that I should run. But I don't run. I never run.

I step forward into the dimly lit alley, my breath steady, my fists clenched. The scent of vampire lingers-rich, metallic, like old blood soaked into velvet. I know what they smell like. I've been raised to hunt them, to hate them, to destroy them. But right now, I don't feel hate.

I feel something far more dangerous.

Curiosity.

A shadow shifts ahead, smooth and controlled, nothing like the drunks or petty criminals that slink through this part of the city. He leans against the wall, one foot lazily crossed over the other, like he owns the damn night. The flickering neon catches his face just enough for me to see the smirk stretching his lips.

Arrogant. Dangerous. Too beautiful to be human.

A vampire.

My heart doesn't race-it slows, steady and measured, as if my body already knows this moment is different. As if fate itself has decided to intervene tonight.

He tilts his head, studying me with those cold, silver-blue eyes, a predator assessing another predator.

"You're far from home, little wolf," he murmurs, voice like smoke and silk.

I don't react immediately. I hold my ground, watching him, waiting. His kind love to talk, to play games, to act as if time is their toy. I don't have patience for games.

"Funny," I say flatly. "I was thinking the same about you."

His smirk widens, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Touché."

I should walk away. I should end this before it starts. But instead, I take another step forward, closing the space between us.

Something about him calls to me in a way that has nothing to do with instinct or logic. It's deeper. Older. A pull that I don't understand but refuse to ignore.

"Do you have a death wish, vampire?" I ask, my voice calm but edged with warning.

He chuckles, low and dark, the sound curling around me like invisible hands. "If I did, I wouldn't waste it on a pretty little wolf like you."

Arrogant bastard.

"Then why are you here?" I demand.

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he moves, pushing off the wall with effortless grace, his movements too smooth, too precise. He's close now, close enough that I can see the faint pulse at his throat-the one reminder that despite everything, he's still a creature bound to life.

"Maybe I was curious," he says finally. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching wolves who don't belong in their own skin."

His words strike deeper than I want to admit. I school my expression, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Oh, but I do," he says softly. "I know you hate that ring they want to put on your finger. I know you hate the leash they've tied around your throat. And I know that right now, you're more tempted to talk to a vampire than return to your precious little pack."

I inhale sharply, my nails digging into my palms.

How does he know?

His smirk returns, sharp and knowing. "You can lie to them, but you can't lie to me, little wolf. I can smell it on you-restlessness. Rebellion. The hunger for something more."