Chapter 18: Victor's Gambit
1312words
The day before the blood moon dawned clear and cold, frost painting delicate patterns on the windows of Damian's estate. I stood in his study, examining the ancient texts he'd gathered about the ritual—leather-bound volumes written in languages I shouldn't understand but somehow could, another gift of my awakening heritage.
"The ritual requires blood from all participants," I read aloud, tracing the words with my finger. "Freely given at the sacred stones under the blood moon's light."
"Yes," Damian confirmed, looking up from his desk where he was reviewing security plans. "The blood creates the binding—alpha to alpha, and alpha to moon blood."
"And if the moon blood refuses to participate?"
His expression darkened. "Then the pact dissolves. The enhanced powers fade. We become ordinary werewolves again."
"Is that so terrible?" I asked, genuinely curious. "To be ordinary?"
"For creatures who have lived centuries with enhanced strength, speed, and longevity?" He shook his head. "It would be like asking you to suddenly live without your senses of sight and hearing."
"Yet my mother was willing to let that happen."
"Your mother believed the pact had become corrupted." His voice softened. "Perhaps she was right."
Before I could respond, Jackson burst into the study, his usual casual demeanor replaced by tense urgency.
"Victor's made his move," he announced without preamble. "He has Robert."
My blood ran cold. "My father? How?"
"Ambushed him at his hotel this morning." Jackson's expression was grim. "He left this."
He handed me a folded note. Victor's elegant handwriting sprawled across the page:
"The hunter for the Balancer. Come alone to the ritual site at sunset, or watch history repeat itself. Your choice, Elena."
My hands trembled with rage. "He's using my father to force my hand."
"Just as he tried to use your mother," Damian said quietly. "History repeating itself indeed."
I clutched my mother's pendant, drawing strength from its balanced energy. "I have to go."
"It's a trap," Damian said, moving to stand before me. "He wants to complete a blood bond before the ritual, ensuring your choice tomorrow night."
"I know that," I snapped. "But he has my father. What would you have me do?"
"Let me handle it," he insisted. "Jackson and I can—"
"No." I cut him off. "Victor specified I come alone. If he senses either of you, he'll kill my father immediately."
"Then I'll follow at a distance," Damian countered. "Where he can't detect me."
"He'll smell you," I argued. "You know that."
Jackson cleared his throat. "Not if Elena masks his scent."
We both turned to him.
"The pendant," he explained, nodding to the silver spirals at my throat. "It's a Balancer's charm. With it, Elena can temporarily suppress another's scent—even from an alpha's nose."
"Is that true?" I asked Damian.
He nodded reluctantly. "Theoretically. Sophia did it once, to help a pack member escape Victor's territory."
Hope flared within me. "Then we have a plan. I go in alone, as Victor demands. You follow, masked by the pendant's power. When the moment is right—"
"We strike," Damian finished, his eyes gleaming with predatory focus.
"One problem," Jackson interjected. "The masking only works on one person. If both Damian and I go—"
"Then it has to be just Damian," I decided. "No offense, Jackson, but if it comes to a fight—"
"Damian's the stronger alpha," he acknowledged without rancor. "No offense taken."
As sunset approached, tension coiled within me like a spring. I stood before the mirror in Damian's bedroom, studying my reflection. The woman who looked back bore little resemblance to the confused, frightened bride who had awakened in a blood-soaked wedding dress. My eyes now held permanent flecks of amber, my posture more confident, my presence somehow larger than my physical form.
Damian entered, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. "It's time."
I turned to face him. "The masking spell—how does it work?"
"Through blood," he said. "A drop of yours mixed with mine, while focusing your intent through the pendant."
Without hesitation, I bit my thumb, drawing blood. "Give me your hand."
He extended his palm, and I pricked his skin with my now-claw-like nail. Our blood mingled as I pressed our wounds together, concentrating on the pendant's energy flowing between us.
"Think of shadows," he instructed softly. "Of invisibility, of passing unnoticed."
The pendant warmed against my skin as our blood connection activated its power. A subtle shift rippled through the air around Damian, not quite visible but perceptible to my enhanced senses—like heat waves distorting light.
"Did it work?" I asked.
He lifted his arm, sniffing his own skin. "I can't smell myself. That's... disconcerting."
"Let's hope Victor feels the same way." I reached for my jacket. "Remember the plan. I engage Victor, keep him talking. You free my father. Only then do we confront Victor together."
"And if something goes wrong?"
"Then we improvise." I touched his face, memorizing the planes and angles I'd come to cherish. "Be careful."
His hand covered mine. "You're the one walking into the lion's den."
"I'm not the same woman Victor encountered before." I let my eyes flash amber. "I'm my mother's daughter now—a Balancer awakened."
The ritual site was bathed in the golden light of sunset when I arrived, alone as instructed. The three ancient stones cast long shadows across the clearing, their surfaces carved with symbols older than the pact itself.
Victor stood by the central altar, my father kneeling beside him with hands bound behind his back. Despite a bruised face, my father's eyes blazed with defiance.
"Right on time," Victor called, his amber eyes gleaming with triumph. "And alone, as instructed. Perhaps you're wiser than your mother after all."
"Let him go," I demanded, stepping into the clearing. "Your quarrel is with me, not him."
"My quarrel is with anyone who interferes with the natural order." Victor's hand rested on my father's shoulder, claws extended just enough to threaten. "Hunters have culled our kind for centuries. Why should I show mercy to one who would gladly see me dead?"
"Because I'm asking you to," I said, moving closer. "As a show of good faith before tomorrow's ritual."
Victor's nostrils flared as he scented the air. "You smell of Damian," he observed, eyes narrowing. "His claim on you grows stronger."
"As does yours," I countered, feeling the blood bond between us pulse in response to his proximity. "We're connected now, all three of us."
"Yet you chose his bed," Victor said, a dangerous edge entering his voice. "His mark dominates mine."
"I've made no final choice," I said carefully. "That comes tomorrow, under the blood moon."
My father's eyes widened at this exchange, realization and horror dawning on his face. "Elena, no. You can't seriously be considering—"
"Quiet, hunter," Victor snapped. "Your daughter has embraced her true nature—something you tried to deny her for twenty-five years."
I took another step forward, now close enough to see the altar clearly. A silver knife lay upon it, alongside three empty chalices. Preparations for a ritual—but not tomorrow's.
"What is this?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.
Victor smiled, all teeth and predatory intent. "Insurance. A stronger blood bond, performed at sunset before the blood moon. Not as powerful as tomorrow's ritual, but enough to... influence your choice."
"You want to bind me to you now," I realized. "To ensure I choose you tomorrow."
"Smart girl." His smile widened. "Your mother refused this same offer. Look how that ended for her."
Behind Victor, a shadow moved—imperceptible to normal eyes, but my enhanced vision caught the subtle shift. Damian, cloaked by the pendant's magic, positioning himself to free my father.
I needed to keep Victor distracted.
"Show me," I said, stepping closer to the altar. "Show me what my mother refused."
