Chapter 46
The halls of the Silver Moon Packhouse were eerily quiet as I walked toward the kitchen. It was late. Everyone was either asleep or patrolling the borders. And me? I was just hungry.
Pregnancy cravings were a real thing, and at this ungodly hour, my stomach was growling like a beast, demanding to be fed. I let out a deep sigh, rubbing my belly absentmindedly as I padded down the dimly lit hallway, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps. The familiar creaks and groans of the old house seemed… normal. Until it wasn’t.
I had just stepped into the kitchen, reaching for the loaf of whole-grain bread on the counter, when—
A sudden, sharp gust of wind swept through the room, extinguishing the soft hum of the refrigerator and sending the kitchen utensils clattering against the countertop. The sound of a single, deliberate footstep echoed through the silence. And then—a blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Instinct kicked in, and I ducked, narrowly avoiding the knife that came flying straight at my head with the force of a Küchen Knife hurled by a Ninja.
The blade lodged itself into the wooden cabinet behind me, vibrating with the impact, sending shards of wood flying everywhere. My breath hitched, my heart racing like a wild animal. What the hell was happening?! I spun around just as a dark figure lunged at me, his silhouette gleaming with an otherworldly aura.
I had no weapons. No one else was around. I was alone. But I wasn’t helpless. The rogue swung at me, claws aiming for my throat.
I twisted my body, barely dodging him. My back slammed against the counter, pain shooting up my spine. He lunged again—but this time, I fought back.
I grabbed a knife off the counter, swinging it with all my strength.
The blade sliced across his chest, but he barely flinched.
Damn, he was fast! Stronger than most rogues. But how the hell did he get in?
No rogue could breach Silver Moon Pack’s territory without inside help.
Which meant—
Someone had let him in. Someone from this pack wanted me dead. The rogue lunged again, but I was ready this time. I ducked, twisting behind him before slamming the knife into his back. He let out a guttural snarl, staggering forward—but I didn’t stop.
I yanked the blade out and stabbed it again. And again. Until he collapsed onto the floor, motionless. Blood pooled around him, soaking into the cracks of the tiles.
I stood there, panting, my heart hammering against my ribs. What the hell just happened?
I had just survived an assassination attempt. I swallowed hard, staring at the rogue’s lifeless body.
And that’s when I saw it. A note.
It was tucked into the folds of his torn jacket, stained with blood. With trembling fingers, I pulled it out.
And when I read the words, a cold chill ran down my spine.
“Run before it’s too late.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. I had been right. This wasn’t just some random rogue attack.
Someone in the pack wanted me gone. And they were willing to let an assassin into our home to make it happen.
But the real question was—
Who?
