Bloodline of Ash and Fang

CHAPTER FIVE : THE ALPHA'S STUDY

The Ravenholtz townhouse in Bloodhaven wasn't just a house; it was a small fortress nestled among mansions. A high, wrought-iron fence topped with subtle anti-climb spikes surrounded the property. It was a stone's throw from the severe, modern compound of the Ironfang stronghold—a constant, visible reminder of the alliance that ruled the city.

Jeremy parked blocks away, the cold night air biting at his skin. He approached the fence from a blind spot he’d memorized as a kid. This wasn't a social call.

No time for the front gate.

He took a deep breath, letting the familiar energy coil in his gut. His eyes flashed—a storm of sun-gold and silver swirling for a split second before he reined it in. His muscles tensed with a power that was both his and something more.

He leaped.

It wasn't a human jump. It was a powerful, fluid explosion of motion that carried him halfway up the tall fence. His fingers, tipped with claws that had sharpened without him fully noticing, found purchase on the intricate metalwork. He hauled himself up and over the spikes, dropping silently onto the manicured lawn on the other side like a shadow. A partial shift,just enough to get the job done.

He froze, pressing himself into the deep shadows of a sculpted hedge. A guard,a low-ranking Beta from the scent of damp earth and copper,rounded the corner on his patrol. Jeremy held his breath, his body thrumming with adrenaline. The guard paused, sniffing the air, then continued on, oblivious.

Too close.

Jeremy moved again, a blur of motion across the open lawn. He used the key under the same ugly garden gnome,a testament to his father's arrogance,and slipped inside.

The air within was still and cold. It smelled of lemon polish, old parchment, and the faint, ozone-like scent of his father’s power. Jeremy froze at the foot of the grand staircase, listening. Silence. He’d made it.

The heavy oak door to the study was slightly ajar.

He slipped inside. The room was a mirror of his father’s mind: organized, severe, and imposing. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the glass-fronted cabinet.

The Moon Stone sat inside on a velvet cushion. It was a smooth, milky-white orb, about the size of a plum, that seemed to glow with its own inner light, pulsing softly like a sleeping heart.

This is it. Just grab it and go.

His fingers trembled, the sharp points of his claws retracting as he fumbled with the simple lock on the cabinet. It clicked open. The sound was deafening in the silence.

As he reached for the Stone, a floorboard creaked loudly on the landing upstairs.

He froze.

A heavy footstep. Then another. Headed toward the stairs.

Joseph was awake.

Panic seized him. He was trapped.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration screaming in the silence. He fumbled to silence it, his eyes wide with terror. He saw the caller ID.

Damian.

Suddenly, a voice echoed from the hallway, clear and calm. Marcus. "Father? Is that you? I thought I heard something. I couldn't sleep,I had a question about the northern border dispute."

It was a distraction. A gamble.

Jeremy didn’t waste the gift. He snatched the Moon Stone from its cushion. It was unnaturally warm against his palm, humming with a low energy. He shoved it deep into his jacket pocket.

He heard his father's low, rumbling reply from the hall, too muffled to make out the words. They were close.

Jeremy moved. He slipped out of the French windows onto the terrace, closing them silently behind him.

He didn’t run back the way he came. Instead, he sprinted for the high garden wall at the back of the property. Without breaking stride, he planted a foot on a stone planter and launched himself upward. His claws extended just enough to dig into the mortar between the stones, scaling the wall with preternatural speed and agility before dropping soundlessly into the dark alley on the other side.

He was breathing heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through him.

His phone buzzed again, insistently. Damian.

He ducked behind a dumpster, his breath fogging in the cold air, and finally answered, his voice a terrified whisper.

“Damian? What is it?”

The voice on the other end was low, tense, but controlled. “Jeremy. Someone was here. Outside the house. Just standing there. Watching.”

Jeremy’s blood ran cold. “Where? Are you okay? Is Cassie—”

“He’s gone,” Damian cut in, his voice sharp with a focus that was more alarming than panic. “I looked away for a second and he was just… gone. But he was there.”

A cold dread solidified in Jeremy’s gut. This wasn't a coincidence. The body, the glyph, and now this.

They were already making their move. But who were they?

“I’m coming,” he whispered, the stolen Moon Stone burning a hole in his pocket. “Don’t open the door for anyone. I’m on my way.”

He ended the call and looked back toward the imposing silhouette of his father’s house. 

This was getting much more serious than he had thought. And he was sure this wouldn't be the end of it. Could it be a rouge or a vampire... He dreaded that possibility more than anything .

Vampires getting involved? That would become a different ball game entirely.

Jeremy brows scrunched together... "Just what have I gotten myself into and who are you Damien Graves?" He asked under his breath. He looked back at the house that had so many not so fond memories and took a deep sigh, "Thanks Marcus. I owe you one " He said with a smile on his face 

He had to get out of here and get to Damien's as soon as possible. His eyes flashed for a brief second and he was sprinting towards the car parked a little further down the alley,with speed even the world's number sprinter, Usain blitz would struggle to reach at his prime .

He was trapped between the danger at home and the danger at

his best friend’s door. 

The secret was out, and the wolves were already circling.