The Game Begins
The room was silent except for the faint crackle of torchlight and the distant echo of footsteps beyond the stone walls.
Caidren was still watching him.
Elias could feel it—the weight of the Alpha's gaze like an iron brand against his skin.
Not wary.
Not distrustful.
Something else.
Something he didn't know how to deal with.
Elias forced himself to focus.
"The assassin won't have gone far," he murmured, shifting his stance. "He'll report back to whoever sent him. If we act too soon, we might scare them into hiding."
Caidren hummed. "And if we wait too long, they may strike again."
Elias nodded, fingers tightening against his sleeve. "That's why we make them think they already won."
The idea had formed the moment the assassin's blade missed its mark.
They expected him to die tonight.
That meant there would be whispers. Plans. Movement.
If he played it right, they would lead him directly to the ones pulling the strings.
Caidren's golden eyes gleamed in the low light. "You're playing a dangerous game, Elias."
Elias let out a quiet breath, his lips curling into a small smirk. "It's only dangerous if I lose."
Caidren chuckled—a dark, amused sound.
Then, without warning—
He moved.
Elias barely had time to react before the Alpha closed the distance, stepping so close their bodies nearly touched.
Instinct screamed at Elias to move, to retreat—
But he held his ground.
Because if he stepped back now, if he let Caidren see even a hint of uncertainty—
He would never get it back.
The Alpha studied him in silence. Then, voice low and knowing, he murmured, "And you trust me to play my part in this?"
Elias inhaled sharply.
There it was again.
That same damn question.
Why did he trust Caidren?
It should have been simple.
It should have been a calculated decision—just another move in the game.
But it wasn't.
It was instinct.
And instinct, Elias had learned, was dangerous.
He forced himself to meet Caidren's gaze. "I trust you not to be a fool."
Caidren arched a brow, lips twitching. "That's not the same thing."
Elias exhaled slowly. "It's close enough."
Caidren watched him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then—
He smirked.
"Very well."
Elias blinked. "You agree?"
Caidren leaned in slightly. Not enough to touch, not enough to crowd—but enough.
Enough for Elias to feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath.
Enough to make something coil deep in his gut.
"I'm curious to see where this leads," Caidren murmured.
Elias swallowed.
A test.
He knew it was a test.
Because that was what Caidren did—he pushed, he prodded, waiting to see where Elias would break.
But Elias wasn't going to break.
Not tonight.
He forced himself to smirk. "Then try not to ruin it."
Caidren chuckled, the deep, rich sound rolling over Elias's skin like smoke.
"Careful, Elias," the Alpha murmured. "One day, I might actually listen to you."
Elias's stomach twisted.
Because the way Caidren said it—low, teasing, almost fond—
Felt too much like a warning.
Like something Elias didn't know how to name.
Something he wasn't sure he wanted to name.
---
The Illusion of Death
The next few hours were spent setting the stage.
Blood smeared across the floor. The dagger, planted at just the right angle. The assassin's own cloak, shredded and left behind as if Elias had struggled before he fell.
It had to be perfect.
It had to look real.
By the time they were finished, Elias stood at the center of his own supposed death scene, staring down at the mess they had made.
Caidren stood beside him, arms crossed. "Satisfied?"
Elias let out a slow breath. "It will do."
Then, just as planned—
He slipped away.
He moved through the hidden tunnels beneath the stronghold, the same ones he had mapped out weeks ago. The same ones that now ensured no one would see him alive again—at least, not until he wanted them to.
By dawn, the news would spread.
The Omega—Caidren's Omega—was dead.
The reaction would be immediate.
It would be brutal.
And it would reveal everything.
All Elias had to do now—
Was wait.
---
The Stronghold Awakens
The next morning, the halls of the stronghold were chaos.
Caidren sat on his throne, his expression cold, unreadable, as his warlords shouted over each other.
"This was an attack against you, my Lord—"
"They will pay for this—"
"Who would dare—"
Caidren listened.
Watched.
Waited.
Because Elias had been right.
The moment the news spread, the wolves started showing their teeth.
Some feigned outrage.
Some whispered in the shadows, not realizing Caidren heard them.
And then there were the ones who remained too quiet.
The ones who hadn't expected this outcome at all.
Those were the ones Caidren focused on.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.
You trust me, Elias had said.
And he did.
More than he should.
Because even now, even knowing Elias was somewhere in the shadows, watching this unfold—
He still found himself wanting to see him.
Damn him.
A sharp voice cut through the noise.
"My Lord."
Caidren's gaze snapped toward the speaker.
One of his warlords, standing stiffly, eyes wary. "There has been… another body."
The room fell silent.
Caidren's grip tightened against the arms of his throne. "Who?"
The warlord hesitated.
Then, voice low—
"The assassin. The one who killed Elias."
Caidren's blood ran cold.
The warlord swallowed. "Slaughtered. Beyond recognition."
Whispers rippled through the chamber.
But Caidren wasn't listening.
Because he already knew.
Already understood.
This wasn't his doing.
This wasn't the work of his men.
This was Elias.
Silent. Unseen. Hunting.
Caidren exhaled sharply, a slow smirk curling at his lips.
"So the game begins."
The warlords stared at him, uncertain.
But Caidren didn't explain.
Didn't need to.
Because this wasn't their game.
This was Elias's.
And Caidren, as much as he hated to admit it—
Was eager to see how it played out.