The night was still just beginning when Arina reached Nocturne. The city’s hum was fading into nothing as she entered the club’s upper floor. The door to the lounge closed behind her with a low click. The music below dulled to a pulse under her boots. The same table waited — long, carved from dark oak, with Varric and his Inner Circle already gathered.
Varric didn’t rise. His gaze flicked over her once, as if to measure what had changed.
“Arina. You’ve been quiet,” he said.
“I’ve been watching,” she replied simply. “You wanted information. I brought it.”
Seline leaned forward, her lips curving. “The wolves?”
“Yes.” Arina’s voice was flat. “They’re moving. I saw them send small groups out, mostly younger ones. Pups.”
That drew attention. Cassian straightened slightly; Lira’s head tilted. Darius said nothing, but his eyes sharpened.
“Why move the young?” Varric asked.
“They’re scared,” Arina said. “Maybe something’s coming, maybe they expect to start a fight. After all, it’s strange to send the weakest to a safe place.”
Malric gave a quiet laugh. “So they’re preparing for war.”
“Exactly.” Arina looked at him. “They don’t say it, but the behavior gives it away. You can see it in how they guard their borders, how the patrols rotate faster. The pack is waiting for something to happen.”
Varric’s fingers drummed once against the wood. “And what do you suggest?”
Arina’s reply was instant. “We strike first.” Her gaze moved slowly from face to face. “They’re gathering the strongest pack members. So, probably moving their young, gives them impression of being untouchable. That’s their weak spot. If they lose the ones they’re trying to protect, fear will tear through the rest faster than anything else.”
Seline’s smile faded into something sharper. “You’re suggesting we kill the pups.”
“Yes. t’ll send a clear message that they’re never safe.”
Cassian’s laugh was quiet, almost admiring. “That’s brutal.”
“It’s effective,” Arina said. “And it ends this before they ever reach your door.”
Varric studied her. He didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, he leaned back, folding his hands together. “You’ve thought this through.”
“I have,” she said. “If you want them broken, don’t meet them in battle. Make them bleed where they think they’re safe.”
Lira’s smile was slow. “I didn’t expect that from you.”
“You shouldn’t expect anything,” Arina replied. “I don’t work from emotion. I work from logic.”
Seline’s eyes glittered. “And if this fails?”
“It won’t,” Arina said simply. “They’re predictable, because they are protective. The moment they realize their pups are in danger, they’ll lose all strategy. They’ll come charging in without thought. And that’s when you take them.”
Varric nodded slowly, weighing the shape of the plan in the silence. “You’ve grown sharper since you left Rylan’s coven.”
Arina held his gaze. “I learned that survival doesn’t come from waiting”
Varric’s smile split pleased. “Then we strike first.”
Arina only inclined her head in answer.
Seline spoke before anyone else could. “We picked up a young she wolf a few nights ago. If she’s from the pack, that changes our timing.”
Cassian’s eyes sharpened. “If she’s local, the pack will know something’s wrong immediately.”
Seline’s mouth quirked. “We thought you might help identify her.”
Arina’s face didn’t move. “I can tell. If she’s theirs, it will show.”
Seline’s eyes glinted with approval. “Good. If she’s from them, we accelerate. If not, we wait and plan.”
Varric folded his hands. “Make it quick. And Arina, be sure. There’s no going back once the order is given.”
Arina nodded once stepping away from the table.
The air below Nocturne was colder and denser with the iron tang of blood.
Arina descended past the guards with the easy indifference of someone who belonged here.
The prison corridor stretched before her — a narrow passage lined with barred cells. Behind one, a young woman lay slumped against the wall, wrists bound, her skin pale beneath streaks of dirt. Her pulse fluttered weakly, barely audible, but alive.
Arina stopped before the cell. The girl stirred faintly, lids flickering. Golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, opened.
“Don’t speak,” Arina said softly. The wolf blinked at her, confusion flickering, then fell still again.
Arina slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out her phone. Her thumb moved fast over the screen:
Complication. They have a she wolf captive. If you miss her, the attack will be tonight.
She lingered, watching the typing dots appear and vanish before the reply came through.
Aoni: No wolves are missing. Tell them shes ours.
Arina’s jaw tightened. Her gaze flicked to the imprisoned wolf again — fragile, unconscious, unknowing of the war that would use her.
Arina: What if they kill her?
A pause.
Aoni: What if you try to save her and ruin everything?
Her fingers hesitated over the screen. She drew a slow, heavy breath.
Arina: Ok. Deleting messages.
One by one, the lines disappeared, leaving the chat clean as if her conscience could be wiped the same way.
She locked the phone and slid it back into her pocket, forcing her face into that careful blankness she’d learned to wear. The girl behind the bars breathed shallowly. The slow rise and fall of her chest looked almost ordinary in the dim corridor. A sting of pity flickered and died in Arina.
Footsteps came from behind. Arina didn’t turn until the voice she already knew filled the space:
“So, is she one of them?” Varric asked.
“Yes,” Arina answered. “She’s from their pack.”
Varric’s smile widened in a way that made the hair rise along Arina’s arms. “Excellent.” He turned his head toward her, the smile sharpening. “Want to do the honors?”
Arina’s mouth curved, but it was only a shadow of a smile. Inside, something small and furious clicked: the taste of the Inner Circle’s promises, the memory of Lucien’s face, the ledger of old debts. She let her face lie. “Isn’t this a waste of time?” she asked instead, voice soft, deflecting. “If we strike tonight, I should verify the wolves aren’t already suspicious instead.”
Varric’s expression tightened. “No,” he said. “You stay here.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “When the night comes, you’ll help lead the assault.”
Arina felt the old hunger curl in her belly, but it came coated in something colder, a calculation that didn’t belong to her alone anymore.
She nodded once. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll stay.”
Varric’s smile returned, triumphant now. “Good. Make sure she’s awake by midnight. We’ll need a bit of theatre.”
Arina watched Varric’s silhouette melt into the shadow and let the hate sit in her before she turned and moved to the cell. The girl inside breathed shallow and ragged, lashes fluttering against cheeks too pale for the moonlight, the slow rise of her chest a fragile and yet mattered, in a way that made Arina’s throat tighten.
She crouched until her face was level with the woman’s, close enough that the breath between them fogged. Arina’s hand shook; she felt a traitor’s tremor occupying her for a moment, and she raised it anyway.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words a torn thing in her mouth. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”
Then the hand came down. The left leg bone snapped; the girl’s scream shredded the hush of the corridor and ricocheted against stone…
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