Chapter 9: Blood Calls to Blood
1353words
Sleep eluded me after my confrontation with Damian. I spent hours poring over the files from the flash drive, learning about my dual heritage—hunter and hunted, predator and prey, existing in one bloodline. By dawn, my head throbbed with information and questions that had no easy answers.
I stood at my bedroom window, watching the sun rise over the forest. Seven days until the blood moon. Seven days to decide the fate of three alphas and possibly their entire species. The weight of that responsibility pressed down on me like a physical burden.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. I expected Damian, but it was Martha who entered, carrying a breakfast tray.
"Mr. Thorne asked me to inform you he's been called to the city on urgent business," she said, setting down the tray. "He'll return this evening."
Freedom, however temporary. "Thank you, Martha."
She hesitated, her usual efficiency faltering. "There's something else, Mrs. Thorne. A visitor has arrived asking for you."
"Jackson?"
"No." She lowered her voice. "A man who claims to be your father."
My heart stuttered. "My father is here?"
"In the blue sitting room. Mr. Thorne left instructions that you were not to be disturbed by visitors, but..." She straightened her shoulders. "I thought you should know."
"Thank you," I said, already moving toward my closet. "Tell him I'll be down shortly."
I dressed quickly in jeans and a simple blouse, my mind racing. My father—a wolf hunter, according to Damian. What would he make of his daughter married to the very creature he hunted?
The blue sitting room was at the far end of the east wing—a formal space rarely used, judging by the pristine condition of the furniture. A man stood with his back to the door, studying a landscape painting. He turned as I entered, and something in his face triggered an immediate sense of recognition.
"Elena." His voice was warm, familiar. "Thank God you're alright."
"Dad?" The word felt right on my tongue.
Robert Collins was tall and distinguished, with salt-and-pepper hair and the same brown eyes I saw in the mirror. He crossed the room in three strides, enveloping me in a hug that smelled of aftershave and safety.
"I've been so worried," he said, pulling back to examine my face. "When I heard about your accident, then this hasty marriage..."
"How did you find me?"
"I'm your father. Finding you is what I do." He guided me to a sofa. "The question is, do you know where you are? Who you're with?"
I studied him carefully. "You mean do I know Damian is a werewolf?"
His expression hardened. "So you know. And yet you stay."
"It's complicated."
"It's dangerous," he corrected. "These creatures aren't human, Elena. No matter how they appear."
"You hunt them," I said. Not a question.
"Our family has protected humanity from their kind for generations." He took my hands in his. "Just as your mother's family once ran with them, before she chose humanity—chose me."
"You knew about her connection to the Blackwoods?"
"It's why I fell in love with her. Sophia was... special. Like you." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "She had the power to end werewolves forever. Instead, she chose balance."
"By marrying you? A hunter?"
He nodded. "Our union was meant to neutralize both bloodlines. To end the cycle of hunting and being hunted."
"But it didn't work," I guessed.
"No. It made something more powerful instead." His eyes held mine. "You, Elena. The perfect weapon against their kind."
I pulled my hands away. "I'm not a weapon."
"Not by choice, perhaps. But by birth." He leaned forward. "The blood moon approaches. If Thorne completes the binding ritual with you, his power will double. The other alphas will either submit or die. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not."
"Then come with me. Now, while he's away."
The offer was tempting—escape from this tangled web of supernatural politics and primal desires. Yet something held me back. "I need time to think."
"Time is the one thing you don't have." He reached into his jacket, withdrawing a small silver pendant on a chain. "Your mother's. It can help control your abilities until you learn to manage them yourself."
I accepted the necklace, a simple crescent moon design. As it touched my skin, a strange warmth spread through my palm. "What abilities?"
"You can influence them, Elena. Strengthen or weaken their wolf at will. With training, you could even force a transformation—or prevent one entirely."
The power he described seemed impossible, yet after everything I'd learned, who was I to define impossible anymore?
"There's something else you should know," my father continued. "Your accident wasn't Victor's doing alone."
"What do you mean?"
"Damian knew you were planning to leave—to expose what you'd learned about the Three Wolves Pact. He couldn't allow that." His expression darkened. "He arranged for Victor to intercept you, knowing you'd be more willing to accept his 'protection' afterward."
"That's not true," I said, but doubt crept in. "Damian saved me from Victor."
"After ensuring you needed saving." He stood. "I have proof at my hotel. Come with me, and I'll show you everything."
Before I could respond, the door opened. Jackson stood there, his casual stance belied by the tension in his shoulders.
"Mr. Collins," he said smoothly. "What an unexpected pleasure."
"Jackson Thorne." My father's voice cooled several degrees. "Still hiding in your brother's shadow, I see."
Jackson's smile didn't reach his eyes. "And you're still interfering in matters beyond your understanding."
"My daughter's welfare is very much my concern."
"Your daughter," Jackson emphasized, "is now a Thorne. By choice and by law."
"A choice made without full knowledge," my father countered. "Under duress."
I stood, placing myself between them. "I can speak for myself. Both of you."
Jackson's gaze shifted to me. "Of course. I merely came to inform you that Damian is returning early. He'll be here within the hour."
My father gripped my arm. "Elena, please. Come with me now."
"She stays," Jackson said, all pretense of civility vanishing. "The blood moon is in seven days. She needs to be here."
"For what? To be bound to a monster?"
"Dad, stop." I pulled away from his grip. "I need to figure this out myself."
"There's nothing to figure out. These creatures killed your mother!"
The accusation hung in the air like a thunderclap. Jackson went perfectly still.
"What?" I whispered.
"Ask them about the last blood moon ritual," my father said bitterly. "Ask what happens when a moon blood refuses to choose."
Jackson's expression confirmed the truth before he spoke. "It wasn't like that."
"Wasn't it?" My father challenged. "Sophia refused to participate in your ritual. She chose humanity instead. And for that, she died."
"She knew the risks," Jackson said quietly. "The pact requires balance."
"The pact requires blood," my father corrected. "And now you want my daughter's."
I backed away from both of them, my mind reeling. "My mother died because of the ritual?"
"Elena—" Jackson began.
"Did Damian know? When he pursued me, did he know who I was?"
Jackson's hesitation was answer enough.
"I need air," I said, pushing past them both.
Outside, I gulped the cool morning air, trying to steady myself. My mother had died because of the pact—because she refused to choose. And now I faced the same choice, the same potential fate.
The pendant my father had given me felt warm against my skin. I clutched it, wondering if it truly held the power he claimed—the power to control werewolves, to determine their fate.
In the distance, I heard the sound of a car approaching. Damian, returning early. Returning to the woman who now knew he had pursued her with full knowledge of who she was—what she was.
The woman who now had to decide whether to trust the man who had marked her as his own, or the father who claimed that man had orchestrated her near-death to bind her to him forever.
