Wolfless Red

The car moved through the forest at an easy pace, the road ahead swallowed in shadow though the sun hung high above the canopy. Kallis sat with one earbud in, head against the window, eyes half-closed, at peace in a way she rarely allowed herself.

Daemon drove in silence, but every so often his eyes drifted from the road to her.

She caught him on the third glance. Pulling the earbud free, she turned. "What?"

"Nothing." He looked back too quickly, his voice not quite steady.

She kept her gaze on him a moment longer. Something moved through her—pity, or the weight of an old memory. It rose anyway, pulling her back.

**Memory**

The practice hall thrummed with noise, hundreds of voices pressed into one restless roar.

Kallis Korr stood at the center, red hair catching torchlight, ringed by twelve armed men. She carried no weapon. Her eyes moved from blade to blade, unhurried, reading them before they moved.

"You're a fool, Kallis." Hurley's voice cut through—her second brother, who despised her nearly as much as their father did. "You can't take all twelve."

She smiled slowly. "Foolishness beats afraid, Hurley. You're just scared to lose to me again."

His hand tightened around his sword. "Maybe Father's here to watch you die." His chin tipped toward the balcony above.

She followed his gaze. Magmoz Korr stood at the rail, watching without a word—the Overlord, her father. Beside him stood Daemon, her eldest brother, sharing her red hair and none of their father's stillness. For a moment her eyes met Daemon's, and he gave her the smallest, steadying smile. She gave it back.

The bell rang, and all twelve came at once.

She moved through them like water through stone—turning, striking, disarming, never in one place long enough to be caught. One by one they dropped, beaten, until only Hurley remained.

He wasn't holding back. Every strike carried the weight of a man meaning to kill.

Kallis snatched a fallen sword to keep pace, blocking blow after blow. The cheering had died. Hundreds watched in silence—this had stopped being sport.

On the balcony, Daemon's face had gone tight. Their father's had not moved at all—flat, and beneath it, something almost pleased.

"This needs to stop, Father," Daemon said.

"Let it continue."

Daemon's jaw locked. An order was an order.

Below, Kallis stopped giving ground. She answered Hurley's strikes with her own, opening thin cuts along his forearms. He had never beaten her, and they both knew this fight wouldn't change that.

They circled, swords raised, breath coming hard.

"Yield, Hurley." Her voice dropped, almost gentle. "You'll only get hurt."

Something in his eyes went past fury. "Die, Kallis."

He threw the sword aside. His body convulsed—bones snapping, fur tearing through skin—and where her brother had stood, a massive red wolf now crouched, snarling.

The hall recoiled. Silence swallowed whatever dread remained.

Kallis's breath caught. Fear broke across her face as Hurley lunged.

His claws opened her hand as he slammed her down, pinning her. Their eyes locked, her heart hammering wild against her ribs.

He drew back for the killing blow— and another wolf hit him broadside, throwing him clear. Bigger. Redder. Daemon.

Hurley scrambled up, and the two wolves faced each other, first son and second son locked in a standoff that held the whole hall still. After a long moment, Hurley shifted back, his eyes finding Kallis one last time.

"Wolfless brat," he spat. "You'll never be one of us." He shoved through the crowd without looking back.

Daemon shifted a moment later, his eyes going straight to her.

"Thank you," Kallis said.

Together they looked up at the balcony. Daemon pulled her to her feet and raised his voice to the hall.

"We have our winner!"

For a beat, nothing. Then the cheering broke loose and swallowed the room whole.

Kallis smiled at her brother and pulled him into a hug.

Above them, the Overlord turned and walked away.

The memory let her go slowly. Kallis pulled her earbud free and drew something from her pocket—a photograph, worn soft at the corners. Aldris.

The trees kept sliding past.

Daemon's attention drifted between the road and the photograph, lingering on how still she went while she looked at it.

"You sure about this?" he asked.

"Yeah." She didn't glance up. "I'm going to bring him back."

That surprised a laugh out of him, and then out of her.

"You were raised inside the Keep," he said. "You don't know the first thing about humans."

"Is that supposed to worry me?"

"It should. Out there you hide what you are. You trust carefully, or not at all. Every word gets weighed before it leaves your mouth." He looked over. "Following me?"

She didn't answer right away. "Could be worse."

He laughed, and this time she let herself relax into it too.

Not long after, Daemon eased the car to a stop.

"This is where I turn back. Keep on that path and you'll reach the road by dark. Los Angeles is just beyond."

She held his eyes a moment, then closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you. For all of it."

He kissed her—carefully, reading her face for permission as he did it. Something shifted between them. He kissed her again, harder this time, until she broke away first, guilt surfacing in her expression.

She had the door open and herself out before he could speak.

Daemon followed. "We can't do this anymore," she said. "You know what this is."

He had nothing to say.

She turned and walked. He stayed rooted by the car, watching her shrink into the treeline until the forest took her.

**

Kallis walked the forest path alone, the kiss still turning over in her mind. By the time she worked through it, the light was gone—evening had slipped in without her noticing. The trees broke open, and she stepped onto the highway.

Empty. No cars, no lights. The walk stretched on, long enough that her mind wandered back to the night after the arena fight.

**Memory**

The Circle hall smelled like centuries. Vast and ancient. Seven stone thrones ringed the chamber, each ten feet tall, all empty but one—the Overlord's, set higher than the rest. Braziers burned low along the walls. Wolves stood sentry at every entrance, motionless.

Hurley and their two other brothers were already gathered beside their father.

Every eye followed Kallis and Daemon as they crossed the floor and bowed together, practiced, in sync.

"You broke the rules, Daemon." The Overlord's voice carried no warmth.

Hurley's mouth curled with delight.

Daemon and Kallis exchanged a glance.

"Forgive me, Your Grace." Daemon bowed his head. "Hurley would have killed her."

"You still broke the rules of the duel," Hurley said. "You shouldn't have intervened."

"You were trying to kill our sister."

"She should have yielded." Hurley's eyes cut toward Kallis. "But she was too proud. Weren't you, Wolfless Red?"

"You never gave her the chance," Daemon shot back. "You wanted her dead."

The Overlord said nothing. He only watched.

Hurley's frown deepened. "Why do you even bother with her?" he asked Daemon, voice flat as stone. "She's cursed by the Moon Goddess."

Daemon crossed the space in two strides and grabbed his collar. Hurley grabbed back, both fists twisting into fabric.

"Enough. End this." The Overlord's voice cracked through the hall like a whip.

His eyes found Hurley's, something passing between them—an understanding only a father and his favored son could share.

"Behave, Hurley," the Overlord said. "Or leave my sight."

Hurley's jaw tightened, but he let go and stepped back.

Silence settled as the Overlord's gaze moved over his children.

"I need to speak with Kallis. Alone."

His sons traded uneasy looks. A murmur passed through them.

"Silence." One word, and the room obeyed. "You're dismissed."

One by one, they filed out—Hurley fixing Kallis with a hard stare, Daemon giving her a small nod before he left.

The Overlord remained, alone with his daughter.

The silence stretched, father and daughter who hadn't spoken in longer than either would admit holding each other's eyes.

She let it settle before she spoke. "The Circle has chosen you," he said, flat.

"For what?"

"You will bring Aldris—the rebel High Alpha of Pelletglow clan—back to this Keep to stand trial for treason."

She let that settle too. "Why me?"

Silence stretched again, their eyes locked.

"Because the Circle chose you," he said, no more explanation offered.

"I'm not going." She turned.

"You would defy the Circle?" His voice rose behind her, but it didn't stop her feet.

"The Circle is giving you the chance to prove yourself worthy to succeed me as Overlord."

She froze. Let it sink in.

Slowly, she turned and walked back. Their eyes held, long and unblinking.

"You are aware of the consequences of your affair with Daemon, are you not?" the Overlord asked, his voice calm enough to unsettle. "Incest. A crime despised above nearly all others. And the greatest insult of it all? He is not even your bonded mate."

Kallis did not answer. She stood rigid, every muscle locked in place.

"You truly believed you could keep it hidden from me?"

Her jaw tightened, but she remained silent, her fists curling at her sides.

For several long moments, the Overlord said nothing. He simply studied her.

"You've made me proud, Kallis. You've restored the honor of House Korr." A pause. "None of your brothers were found fit. I feared our family would lose a title that has run through our blood for centuries."

She listened, unmoving.

"The Seven found you fit instead. They've offered you this honor." Another pause. "Capture a rebel High Alpha, alone, and my throne is yours."

Their eyes stayed locked, neither looking away.

A car horn dragged her out of the memory. She blinked, disoriented, and found a black car idling beside her on the shoulder, its rear lights bright enough to make her shield her eyes.

The window slid down. A young Black man, handsome, leaned toward her. "I'm Michael. Need a ride?"

She looked him over. "Kallis. Thanks, I'm fine."

"The nearest town's a long way off." He paused. "There've been reports—wolves attacking people out here. Killing them."

Her eyes widened before she could stop them.

"You don't want to be out here alone," he added.

She weighed it, then nodded and got in.

The ride was quiet at first.

"You're not from around here," Michael said, more statement than question.

"No."

Silence again.

"What brings you to Los Angeles?"

She took her time. "Looking for a relative."

"Do you know where to find them?"

"In Los Angeles."

"Los Angeles is a big place. That might not be enough."

She said nothing, just watched him.

They reached the edge of town not long after. Every house they passed was barricaded, plastered with warnings—electric shock signs, a wolf's head crossed out in red, WOLVES OUT in block letters.

"You got somewhere to stay tonight?" Michael asked.

"Any motels around?"

He started to answer when headlights flooded the car—a group of men, armed with cutlasses, daggers, guns, waving him down.

Kallis didn't understand until Michael rolled his window down.

One of the men leaned in. "You're past curfew, Michael."

"My apologies."

"Who's she?"

Michael glanced at Kallis. "A relative."

The man took his time looking them over. "Want us to escort you home?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

"Ride on, then. Watch your backs for wolves."

Michael offered a smile and pulled away.

Neither spoke for a moment. "Who were they?" Kallis asked.

"Town vigilantes. They hunt wolves."

She let that sit. The ride went on, but she noticed how tense he'd gotten behind the wheel, his eyes cutting to the treeline.

"Looking for someone?" she asked.

"Just keeping an eye out for wolves."

She didn't push it—until she saw them. Eyes, glowing in the dark, fixed on the car as it passed. Something cold settled in her chest.

"Werewolves," she murmured, almost to herself.

**

The barricade gate opened and Michael pulled in. He came around and opened her door.

"This is home," he said, leading her toward it.

She looked around. "Alone?"

He went quiet. "Not until now. Used to live here with my brother. Before the wolves got to him."

She let that settle, the memory of those glowing eyes rising back.

"What's going on with the wolves here?" she asked.

He hesitated. "We don't know where they came from, or why. They started attacking at night. That's what the barricades are for." He paused. "Once people stopped going out after dark, they started breaking into homes instead."

She took that in.

Michael led her to a room. "You can rest here. There's a shower through that door." He turned to go.

"Why are you helping me?" Kallis asked, stopping him. "A stranger you know nothing about."

He didn't answer right away. When he turned back, his voice was simple. "Because you needed help."

Their eyes held for a moment.

"I'll get you something to eat," he said, and shut the door behind him.

Alone, Kallis stood with everything crowding in—her life outside the Keep, the wolves attacking this town for reasons she still didn't understand. She pulled Aldris's photograph from her pocket, studied the calm, unbothered face in it, then tucked it away and lay down. She fought sleep. It won anyway.

**

Morning light came through the window before she was ready. She hadn't managed to shower, hadn't even changed.

She checked her pocket for the photograph, found it, put it back.

A tray of food waited on the table. She followed the smell out to the kitchen, where Michael stood cooking. He brightened when he saw her.

"Morning, Kallis."

"Morning, Michael."

"Did you see the food I left last night? Tried waking you, but you were too far gone to even make it to the shower."

"Old habit," she said.

He studied her a moment, something passing between them. "So—this relative," he said, chopping vegetables. "What's his name?"

She was quiet before answering. "Aldris."

His knife stopped. His eyes lifted to hers and stayed there.

"Ring a bell?" she asked. "You know anyone by that name?"

He took his time. "No."

She watched his face a moment longer, then left it there.

**

They sat together at the table not long after. Michael ate nervously, while Kallis's food sat untouched, her eyes never leaving him.

"Eat something," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "You'll like it."

She read the tension in him, the flicker of curiosity he couldn't hide.

"Aldris," she said again. "Did you know him?"

He didn't answer immediately. "No."

She stood. "I should get going. Thank you—for all of this." She turned.

"You don't have a map. No address. Nothing that'll actually get you to this Aldris." His voice stopped her.

She stood there a moment, then kept walking.

"Maybe I can help," he said.

She stopped. "But you'll have to tell me what I need to know."

"What?"

"Who you are. And why you're looking for Aldris."

"He's a relative."

He studied her, unconvinced. "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

Something tightened in her—anger, sudden and sharp, her fists closing at her sides. She turned and walked out without another word.