Flashback: Fifteen years ago…
The moon cast a pale light over the ancient stone corridors of Vladymyr’s fortress. Danielle stumbled in, soaked from rain and half-mad with grief. Her once-proud shoulders were slumped, her dark hair tangled and wild. Her hand gripped her stomach as she fell to her knees before Vladymyr’s throne, sobbing. Her wolf was gone. Her heart shattered.
He didn’t move from his seat at first. He only stared down at her..
“I warned you,” he said finally, his voice as smooth as ice. “Wolves are cowards. Damien was the most coward of all.”
Danielle looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and haunted. “It’s his,” she whispered through clenched teeth. Her fingers dug into her belly. “I told him… and he still walked away. He said it was a mistake. That I was a mistake.”
Something flickered in Vladymyr’s crimson eyes. Not sympathy—never that. Possession, perhaps. A twisted kind of triumph.
He stood, slowly descending the stairs of the throne, each step deliberate. When he reached her, he knelt and touched her cheek with a gentleness that didn’t belong to monsters.
“You came back to me,” he murmured.
“I had nowhere else to go.”
His hand dropped to her stomach. “Then this child,” he said, “will have everything you were denied. Power. Legacy. Rage.”
Danielle tensed. “He’s not a weapon.”
But Vladymyr only smiled. “Then he will be raised to destroy everything that rejected you.”
She closed her eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek. Somewhere inside her, the last of her old self died.
Present Day – Silverstone Pack Borders
The sun had barely risen when the first scout saw it.
A lone vampire in a black cloak stood just beyond the wards. He said nothing, did nothing. Just placed something gently at the edge of Silverstone’s gate and vanished into mist before anyone could shift or attack.
By the time Eva arrived with Max, Tiana, and Dany, the crowd had already gathered, murmuring uneasily. A single black rose lay on the ground. Its petals shimmered like velvet, and its stem had been soaked in dried blood. Wrapped around it was a tiny scroll sealed in wax.
No one touched it.
Eva crouched down and stared at it. Her gut churned. Something about the rose felt… familiar. Not just in its appearance, but in its intent. It wasn’t just a message.
It was a signature.
“What is it?” Dany asked softly, standing just behind her.
Max answered before she could. His voice was sharp and full of bitter history.
“That rose…” he said. “It’s from Vladymyr.”
Eva stood up slowly and turned to him. “You’re sure?”
Max nodded, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “I’d know his scent anywhere. He used to leave those damn roses on the graves of every Alpha he killed. It’s how he marked territory during the first war.”
Tiana looked from the rose to Eva. “But… why now?”
Eva bent down and picked up the scroll, breaking the seal. Her hands shook as she unrolled it.
Four words were written in deep red ink: “Your blood remembers me.”
She stared at the message, her breath catching. Her vision blurred for a second, as if the past and present blurred together. Danielle. Felicia. Damien. Lucien. Georgina. Vladymyr.
“What does it mean?” Tiana asked, stepping closer.
Eva’s voice was hollow. “It means he knows.”
“Knows what?” Dany frowned.
Eva turned the scroll around so they could all see it. “That the prophecy is waking up. That… I’m not the only daughter of the dead anymore.”
Silence fell over them.
Max stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her. “You think he’s coming for us?”
Eva nodded. “Or for me. Or both.”
The black rose lay on the ground again, and this time, no one touched it.
“Max,” she said quietly, “how do you know so much about him?”
Max looked at her, conflicted. “Because my father fought him. Because Vladymyr once sent one of those roses to our pack too. Just before the fire.”
Realization dawned in Eva’s eyes. “You think he started it?”
“I don’t think,” Max replied darkly. “I know. That rose is his mark. He’s the same bastard who started the war.”
Then he looked around. “Where the hell is Valen?”
Eva stiffened and met Max’s eyes with worry, “He was out in the woods last night, he hasn’t come back yet.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
Summary & Review: Comrade
