Chapter 9The Weight of Debts

The cabin sat at the edge of a clearing, its windows dark. Rissa pressed herself against the trunk of a pine, scanning for movement. Nothing stirred. Not even the wind.

Dorian crouched beside her, his breathing still ragged from their escape. The underground river had left them both soaked and shivering, but the cold was nothing compared to the hollow in Rissa's chest where Kellan's scream still echoed.

"Doesn't look right," Dorian muttered.

"Lorna's cautious. She survived Vance this long by being careful."

"Or she's already made her choice."

Rissa ignored the doubt in his voice. She had to trust someone. Lorna had given them the cave. Lorna had warned them about the stone. If that was a lie, they were already dead.

She moved toward the cabin.

The door opened before she reached it. Lorna stood in the shadow, her face drawn and pale. She grabbed Rissa's arm and pulled her inside without a word.

Dorian followed, closing the door behind them. The cabin was small—a single room with a wood stove, a cot, and shelves lined with dried herbs and jars. A map of the territory was pinned to the wall, marked with red circles.

"You shouldn't have come here," Lorna said.

"We didn't have a choice." Rissa's voice came out harder than she intended. "Vance has Elara. He's going to kill her."

Lorna's jaw tightened. She turned to the stove, stirring something that smelled bitter and medicinal. "I know."

"Then help us."

"I've been helping you." The words cracked. "I weakened the Moonstone. Sabotaged the rituals. Did you think the hunters lost your trail by accident? That the guards were blind the night you escaped?"

Rissa's breath caught. "You—"

"Every time I tampered with the stone, I bought you hours. Days. But Vance is not stupid." Lorna's hand trembled as she set the spoon down. "He knows someone inside the pack is working against him. He's been watching. Waiting."

Dorian stepped forward. "So you're saying we can't trust anyone."

"I'm saying I've run out of time." Lorna reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph. The edges were worn, the image faded. A young girl with dark braids and wide eyes, maybe eight years old, grinning at the camera. "This is my granddaughter. Mira."

Rissa stared at the picture. The girl looked nothing like Lorna—same sharp cheekbones, but lighter hair, a softer mouth. "I didn't know you had family."

"Vance made sure of that. He took her mother when Mira was two. Told me if I served the pack, the girl would be safe." Lorna's voice dropped to a whisper. "Yesterday, he moved her into the compound. She's the next sacrifice."

The words landed like a blow.

Rissa remembered the stone's hunger, the way it had reached for her through Kellan's body. *Fresh vessel. New blood.* She thought of Elara, chained in that chamber, and her stomach turned.

"No," she said. "No, we can stop this. The fail-safe you mentioned—three days without blood fury—"

"Takes time we don't have." Lorna's eyes glistened. "The ritual is tomorrow night. By dawn, Mira will be in the Moonstone chamber. And Elara will be dead."

Dorian's hand moved to his jacket pocket. "There's another way."

Rissa watched him pull out a folded piece of paper—yellowed, torn at the edges. She recognized it from the mine, from the journal he'd found. He'd been reading it in the cave, studying it by firelight.

"What is that?"

"A recording from the original survey team." Dorian spread the paper on the table. It was covered in dense handwriting and diagrams. "They studied the Moonstone before the pack took control. One of the engineers discovered something: the stone resonates at a specific frequency. If you hit that frequency with enough force, it shatters."

Lorna leaned forward, her eyes scanning the notes. "I've never heard of this."

"Because it was buried. The pack's founder suppressed it. He wanted the stone's power, not its destruction." Dorian's finger traced a line of calculations. "But the engineer knew. He built a device that could generate the frequency."

Rissa's pulse quickened. "Where is it?"

"I don't know. But I can build another." Dorian looked up, his expression grim. "There's a catch. The frequency has to be keyed to the alpha's blood. Each pack's Moonstone bonds to its alpha's unique signature. Without Vance's blood, the device is useless."

Silence.

Rissa thought of Vance standing on the roof, Elara at his side. Of the enforcers that surrounded the compound. Of her claws, still stained with Kellan's blood.

"You're saying we need to cut the alpha and steal his blood."

"Essentially."

"That's suicide," Lorna whispered.

"Maybe." Dorian folded the paper and tucked it back into his jacket. "But it's the only way."

Rissa opened her mouth to respond, but the words died in her throat.

The cabin's door splintered open.

Three enforcers poured in, their eyes burning gold. Rissa lunged for Dorian, but a fourth figure stepped through the doorway—Vance, his coat dark with rain, his smile sharp as a blade.

Lorna's face went white.

"Good," Vance said. "I was hoping you'd come."

Rissa's blood turned to ice. She looked at Lorna—at the guilt in her eyes, the way her hands trembled.

"You called him."

"I had no choice." Lorna's voice cracked. "He would have killed Mira."

Vance laughed, low and cold. "Lorna and I made a deal. She delivers you to me, and her granddaughter lives. Simple." He stepped forward, and the enforcers closed in. "But I'm feeling generous, Rissa. You can still walk out of here."

"What's the price?"

"Your surrender. You become the Moonstone's vessel. In exchange, I release your sister and Lorna's brat." He tilted his head. "One life for two. That's a bargain."

Dorian's hand found hers. She felt the warmth of his palm, the steady beat of his pulse against her fingers. *Don't,* his grip said. *Don't you dare.*

"You're lying," Rissa said.

"Am I?" Vance reached into his coat and pulled out a phone. He pressed a button, and a video flickered to life—Elara, bound to a chair in the Moonstone chamber, her face streaked with tears.

Rissa's chest seized.

"I can end this," Vance said. "Or I can make it last."

The enforcers moved.

Dorian grabbed Rissa's arm and yanked her toward the back door. She caught a glimpse of Lorna—frozen, her face a mask of grief—and then they were running.

Gunfire erupted behind them.

Branches whipped at Rissa's face as she plunged into the forest. Dorian was beside her, his breath ragged, his jacket torn. They crashed through the undergrowth, no direction, no plan, only the need to *survive.*

Vance's voice followed them, amplified by the night.

"Dawn, Rissa! Your sister dies at dawn!"

They didn't stop.

They ran until the forest gave way to a ravine, until Rissa's legs gave out and she collapsed against a moss-covered rock. Dorian fell beside her, gasping. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead.

"We lost her," Rissa whispered. "We lost Lorna."

"She made her choice."

"She had no choice. Vance had her granddaughter."

Dorian was silent. Then his hand moved to his jacket, and he pulled out the journal again. The pages were damp, but the words were still legible.

"We need a new plan."

"We need Vance's blood."

"Yes." He looked at her, and there was something new in his eyes—not desperation, but resolve. "I know how to get it."

"How?"

"The ritual. Tomorrow night. Every alpha bleeds into the Moonstone during the ceremony. It's part of the bond."

Rissa stared at him. "You want to walk into the compound during the ritual."

"I want to give them a reason to bleed."

She thought of the enforcers. Of Vance's cold smile. Of Elara's tears on the video.

Dorian's hand found hers again. "We do this together, or we don't do it at all."

Rissa looked at the compound's distant glow. Somewhere in that light, her sister was waiting. Lorna's granddaughter was waiting. The Moonstone was waiting.

She squeezed Dorian's hand.

"Then let's go make an alpha bleed."