The stench of ozone and scorched concrete still clung to Yarina’s tunic, tracing the memory of the lab and Vorzhak's scorched skin. Now, in the fortified isolation of her quarters, the carved cedar beams and brass braziers offered little comfort. Vorzhak stood before her, a looming shadow even in the soft light of the hearth. His scent, usually a grounding blend of pine and raw earth, was now sharp with an agitated musk. His dark fur was slicked back, a few stray crimson streaks still clinging to his muzzle from the skirmish, and his eyes, usually a predatory gold, were obsidian pools of unbridled fury. “You went into the city,” he rumbled, the sound a low growl that vibrated through the very floorboards. He didn't shout; his rage was too deep for mere volume. It was a suffocating pressure that pressed down on her, stealing the air from her lungs. Yarina stared down at the woven wool beneath her boots, the harsh rasp of his breath scraping against her nerves. “I had to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Zhelit… he was a traitor. I saw him take something from the Vulkari.” She looked up then, her own frustration finally breaking through her fear. “And you were dying! What was I supposed to do, sit there and watch?” His lip curled, revealing a flash of teeth. “You were to wake me. You were to alert the guard. You were to stay here, where it is safe.” Each word was a deliberate, heavy stone dropped between them. “Instead, you walked into a den of vipers. You, a human, alone. What did you think would happen?” His voice was edged with a dangerous tremor. “Did you truly believe you could outwit them? That you could face down a pack of Vulkari?” A sharp, bitter laugh escaped Yarina, devoid of humor. “Outwit them? No. Survive them? I had to try. My — my relative, Vorzhak. She was in there.” She stepped back, the memory of her sister's blank, mutated face burning behind her eyelids. “They turned her into a weapon. A bomb.” The words were raw, tearing at her. “And I saw Zhelit. He was feeding them my location. I knew no one else could be trusted. You were incapacitated. I didn’t know what to do.” He stalked forward, closing the distance between them, and the sheer force of his presence made her stumble back another step until her shoulders hit the cool stone of the wall. “You did not trust me. You did not trust my pack. You chose to face that alone, even after everything.” His voice was low, filled with a deep, wounded hurt that surprised her. “Did you think I would not tear the world apart to find you?” “It’s not that!” Yarina cried out, her own fear and anger boiling over. The shame of her weakness, the terror of relying on a creature so utterly destructive, flooded her. “It’s… it’s the violence, Vorzhak! It’s always the violence!” Her voice cracked. “When they came to Veridian, the occupation… they just took. They didn’t ask. They burned our orchards for fuel, they tore down our homes for barracks. They killed… they killed anyone who resisted.” She stared past his shoulder, seeing the ash-choked streets of her childhood instead. “And they did it with such ease. Such overwhelming, casual force.” A tremor ran through her. “I saw what you did to the recruit in the yard. I saw what you did to the Vulkari in the clinic. You tear them apart, Vorzhak. You break them. That is your answer to everything. And I… I can’t live like that. I can’t bring myself to ask for that. It leaves nothing behind.” She pressed her palms flat against the wall, trying to ground herself. “When I was a child, my parents always told me to never invite the wolf to the door. Because once you let it in, it will change everything. It will devour your world. And I… I don’t want to be devoured.” She dug her fingernails into her palms, leaving red crescents against the pale skin. The obsidian fury in Vorzhak’s eyes flickered, then shattered. The predatory glint dissolved into something pained, bewildered. The immense presence that had pinned her against the wall suddenly crumpled. He dropped to one knee before her, his head bowing, the top of his furred skull brushing against the delicate skin of her hands where they rested on the wall. His breath whistled against her skin as he pressed the coarse ridge of his brow against her knuckles, unmoving. His great, clawed hand, usually so capable of rending flesh and bone, now trembled as it reached out, not to grasp, but to hover inches from her waist, as if afraid to touch her without explicit permission. “Devour?” he rasped, his voice guttural, thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “My flower. My little, brave flower. Never. Never you.” He lifted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her face, searching. The golden light from the hearth caught the moisture in his dark eyes, making them glisten like polished jet. “The wolf may change your world, yes. But I swear it on the blood of my ancestors, on the marrow of my bones, on the last beat of my heart: I will use this violence only to build a wall around what you hold dear. Around your life. Around your peace. Around your memories of Veridian. Around your patients. Around… around your relative.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, laced with a terrifying sincerity. “I will burn the world to ash if it touches a single hair on your head. But I will never turn that fire on you. I will never devour you. I will only… shield.” The hearth sputtered, sending a spark drifting toward the flagstones between them as his vow settled into the silence. Yarina stared down at his bowed neck, tracking the thick cords of muscle rigid beneath his scarred hide. She had never seen him like this. This creature, who ruled with an iron claw, was kneeling, begging for her trust, offering his very essence to protect her. Before she could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the suite. Dragoch’s voice, tight with urgency, pierced the charged silence. “Alpha! My apologies. I wouldn’t interrupt, but… Zhelit’s comm logs. I’ve broken through the deep encryption.” Vorzhak rose, his movement fluid and swift, the vulnerability vanishing from his posture as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a renewed, chilling resolve. He moved to the door, pulling it open. Dragoch stood there, pale and grim, clutching a small data-pad. He glanced at Yarina, his eyes briefly softening, then returned his focus to Vorzhak. “He was in constant communication with a rogue cell,” Dragoch reported, his finger tapping the screen. “I’ve cross-referenced the coordinates. They’ve been using a defunct network, deep in the Old Quarter. Specifically… the abandoned Cathedral of the Silent Tears.” He flipped the pad to show a holographic map, a faint blue marker pulsing over a crumbling structure amidst the sprawl of the city. “It’s their staging ground. For the Solstice Gathering.” Vorzhak’s gaze locked onto the map. The gold in his eyes receded completely, leaving only solid, impenetrable black. A low, guttural sound, like stones grinding together, emanated from his chest. “Then we slaughter them all.”

Savage Oaths