THE BURDEN OF BLOOD

Chapter Five: A New Deal

The great hall doors exploded inward.

Beau strode through the smoke and splinters, cloak half-torn, face streaked with blood and dust. Behind him, thirty enforcers fanned out in perfect formation, silver spears leveled. The air itself seemed to bend around him, thick with the stolen power that still leaked from the broken binding below.

Every Crimson wolf froze.

Heath stood in the center of the hall, one arm cradling the half-dead woman against his chest. Her crimson eyes were closed now, breath shallow, but her fingers still clutched his shirt like it was the only real thing left in the world. The other Savannah, wounded, spear jutting from her shoulder, leaned on Scarlett, both women staring at Beau with matching hate.

Beau stopped ten paces away. His gaze swept the room, lingered on the unconscious woman in Heath’s arms, and something raw flickered across his face. Fear. Guilt. Hunger.

Then the mask slammed back down.

“My poor sister,” Beau said, voice smooth as spilled honey. “You found her in one of her fits. She’s been unwell since her first shift, dangerous to herself and everyone around her. I keep her safe. Chained, yes. For her own good.”

The lie stank worse than the blood on the floor.

Heath didn’t speak. He just inhaled once, slow and deliberate. The scent of deception rolled off Beau in waves, bitter, acrid, terrified.

Scarlett spat blood onto the marble. “Safe? You call that safe? She’s a heartbeat from death.”

Beau ignored her. His eyes never left the woman in Heath’s arms.

“Give her back,” he said softly. “She belongs with family.”

Heath shifted his grip, careful, protective. The woman stirred, a faint whimper escaping her cracked lips.

“Family,” Heath repeated, tasting the word like poison. “Funny. She called your name like it was a curse.”

Beau’s smile didn’t waver, but his knuckles went white on the hilt of his dagger.

“She’s not in her right mind,” he said. “Delusional. Violent. Ask anyone here.”

A dozen Shadowed Pine wolves nodded on cue. Cowards.

Heath looked at them, at the fear behind their eyes, the way they wouldn’t meet his stare, and felt something cold settle in his gut.

He looked back at Beau.

“New deal,” Heath said, loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

Beau lifted one golden brow. “There was never an old deal.”

Heath took one step forward. The woman in his arms weighed nothing, but she felt like the entire world.

“The border valley,” Heath said. “All of it. Returned to Crimson Howl by sundown. And her.” He tilted his head toward the woman. “She comes with me. Unharmed. Forever.”

Silence crashed down like a blade.

Then laughter, sharp, shocked, rolling from Beau’s wolves.

Beau didn’t laugh.

“You’re joking,” he said quietly.

Heath’s voice dropped to a growl that raised every hackle in the room.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Beau’s eyes flicked to the unconscious woman again, and for the first time the mask slipped completely. Raw panic.

“You have no idea what she is,” he hissed. “What she’ll do if, ”

“I know exactly what she is,” Heath cut in. “She’s the reason your pack eats while mine starves. She’s the reason you wake up every morning stronger than the last. And she’s done paying for it.”

Scarlett stepped forward, hand on her sword. “You heard him. Valley and the girl. Or we finish what we started downstairs.”

Vance moved to Heath’s other side, cracking his knuckles. “I’m getting real tired of your face, Beau.”

Beau’s enforcers shifted, spears lowering. The air crackled with the promise of slaughter.

Beau raised one hand. They froze.

His gaze locked on Heath, calculating, desperate.

“You’d start a war,” he said. “For her.”

Heath met that stare without blinking.

“I already did.”

The woman in his arms stirred again. Her eyes opened, crimson slits glowing through tangled hair, and fixed on Beau.

“Brother,” she rasped, voice like gravel and lightning. “Let me go.”

Beau flinched as if slapped.

The hall held its breath.

Heath felt her fingers tighten on his shirt, felt the tremor running through her bones, and something fierce and protective roared awake inside him.

“Last chance,” Heath said. “Valley. Girl. Now.”

Beau’s face twisted, handsome features warping into something ugly and small.

“You think you can just take her?” he snarled. “She’s bound to me. Blood to blood. You rip her away, you kill her. And yourself.”

Heath smiled. Slow. Terrible.

“Then we die together.”

He turned his back on Beau, on thirty spears, on a hall full of enemies, and walked toward the doors.

Scarlett and Vance fell in beside him, shielding the wounded Savannah between them.

No one moved to stop them.

At the threshold, Heath paused.

“Sundown,” he called over his shoulder. “Have the papers ready. Or I come back. And next time, I don’t leave anything standing.”

He stepped into the sunlight.

Behind him, Beau’s voice cracked across the hall like a whip.

“Seal the gates! No one leaves!”

But it was too late.

Heath was already moving, the woman cradled against his chest, her breath warm against his neck. Scarlett vaulted into her saddle, reaching down to haul the wounded Savannah up behind her.

Vance swung up last, grinning like a wolf who’d just stolen the moon.

Arrows began to fall, late, panicked, inaccurate.

Heath didn’t look back.

They rode through the gates as they slammed shut behind them, iron groaning in protest. Shadowed Pine wolves poured from every doorway, but Crimson Howl horses were bred for war and desperation. They flew.

The woman in Heath’s arms lifted her head. Her voice was barely a thread, but he heard it clear as thunder.

“You came back for me.”

Heath tightened his grip, feeling her heartbeat against his own, weak, but stubborn.

“I never left,” he said.

She closed her eyes, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on her cheeks.

“Savannah,” she whispered. “My name... is Savannah.”

Heath’s arms tightened until she made a small sound of pain.

“I know,” he said. “And you’re never going back.”

Behind them, Beau stood on the steps of his crumbling hall and screamed orders that no one obeyed. His stolen power flickered, unstable now, leaking away like blood from a fresh wound.

He had lost the source.

And gained an enemy who would burn the world to keep her safe.

As they thundered toward the border, Savannah’s fingers found the scar on Heath’s jaw, the one he’d earned protecting her all those years ago, before Beau took everything.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Heath didn’t answer with words.

He just spurred his horse faster, toward home, toward whatever came next.

Because the deal was made.

And Beau would pay.