A New Arrival
The wolves exchanged uneasy glances, confusion rippling through the crowd. Isla stepped forward, her silver hair glinting in the moonlight as she scanned the stranger’s face. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice clear and steady despite the unease tightening in her chest.
His sharp gaze flicked to her, lingering just a moment too long. “Ah, you must be Isla,” he said, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “Draven’s fabled Luna. The Silver Queen herself. I have to say, the stories don’t do you justice.”
Draven bristled, stepping closer to Isla as a growl rose in his throat. “Don’t speak to her.”
The man raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never faltering. “Touchy, touchy. Aren’t we protective?” He turned back to Isla, ignoring Draven’s warning. “I’m Malrik. Your mate’s half-brother.”
The words landed like a thunderclap, ripples of shock spreading through the pack.
“Half-brother?” Isla repeated, her silver eyes narrowing as she turned to Draven.
Draven’s face was like stone, his jaw clenched tightly. “What are you doing here, Malrik?”
Malrik stepped closer, his twisted smile growing. He was shorter than Draven, his stature sickly and pale compared to the Alpha’s broad, imposing frame. But his presence was sharp, like a knife pressed against skin.
“Oh, you know me, brother,” Malrik said, his voice light but venomous. “Always curious. Always wondering what the mighty Draven is up to. And when I heard about your new Luna—” His eyes slid to Isla again, assessing, almost predatory. “Well, I simply had to meet her.”
“You’re not welcome here,” Draven growled, stepping protectively in front of Isla.
Malrik raised an eyebrow, feigning hurt. “Is that any way to greet family? After all, you’re the one who got everything, aren’t you? The strength, the title, the pack.” His smirk turned razor-sharp. “And now the perfect Luna to top it all off.”
Isla stiffened at the way his eyes lingered on her, her instincts screaming to stay close to Draven. But she forced herself to speak, her tone steady and cold. “Whatever you’ve come for, you won’t find it here.”
Malrik chuckled, a sound that was more unsettling than amused. “Oh, but I’ve already found something interesting,” he said, his gaze flicking between her and Draven. “This little fortress of yours is quite the show. I wonder how much of it is real, and how much is just… appearances.”
Draven’s patience snapped. “Leave,” he growled, his voice sharp as steel. “You’ve made your presence known. Now go before I make you.”
Malrik took a step back, his smirk never wavering. “So eager to get rid of me. It’s almost as though you’re afraid of what I might say.” His voice dropped, laced with insinuation. “Or what I might see.”
Draven’s fists clenched at his sides, but Isla placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. Her touch was gentle, but her voice was firm. “Let him stay,” she said, her silver eyes locking onto Malrik’s. “For now.”
The pack murmured in surprise, but Isla didn’t waver. She could feel Draven’s tension beside her, but she didn’t look away from Malrik.
Malrik’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “I knew I liked you,” he said smoothly. “This is going to be fun.”
