The door thudded against the wall, then smacked closed with a dull finality that swallowed whatever thread of calm still clung to the room.

Kurt’s gaze snapped to the shadowed figure looming in the doorway. The flicker of the overhead lamp caught in his deep-set eyes, but it was the flicker beneath—something darker—that grabbed Kara’s attention.

Dorian’s broad shoulders tensed, like a coiled wire ready to snap. The room’s stale air thickened—burning with unspoken threats, electric and suffocating. Kara’s pulse ratcheted to a fierce rhythm, her hands clenching and unclenching on her knees.

She dared not move.

“Thought I heard voices,” the newcomer’s voice rasped. Rough, like gravel grinding underfoot.

Kara’s breath hitched. The voice wasn’t Dorian’s, but not quite familiar either—a harsh edge layered over something dangerously close to respect.

Dorian barely blinked. “Kellan.”

The name cracked the tension like an echo in a canyon. Kara’s brain hammered at some vague warning, but the sound was too raw, too sudden.

Kurt’s shoulders straightened, shadows flickering along his jaw as the room’s harsh fluorescence pressed down, exposing more than Kara was prepared for.

And then, there it was—the scar.

A jagged line cutting across the side of Kurt’s neck, half-hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. Pale and cold, it sliced through his otherwise flawless skin like a frozen river breaking underfoot.

Kara’s eyes stung with a sudden weight—the scar wasn’t just flesh. It was a story. An unseen war etched in pain and betrayal.

A trapdoor beneath his calm had just yawned wide open, revealing vulnerabilities no one was meant to glimpse.

Kellan’s gaze locked on that scar like a wolf scenting blood. The silence stretched and cracked, muffled but crackling with accusations unspoken.

Dorian’s tight smile was a blade. “I see you’ve met my reminders, Kurt.”

“Reminders?” Kara’s voice cracked, delicate but charged.

Dorian’s smirk deepened, but Kurt didn’t rise to bait. His eyes settled on Kellan with a quiet storm.

“It’s not a memory I like revisiting.”

The room shrank, walls closing in with the weight of that history. Kara’s heart thrashed against her ribs, each beat pounding questions she couldn’t ask aloud.

Kellan stepped further inside, his boots scraping harshly against the wooden floor. “Funny how some wounds never heal.”

Kurt’s jaw clenched, a vein throbbing under the stark light. “And some betrayals cut deeper than any blade.”

The words settled like ice between them—sharp and frigid, cutting through any illusion of unity.

Kellan’s eyes flicked to Kara then—sharp, calculating. “We’ve been watching. Waiting.”

The air caught in Kara’s throat, brittle and thin. Waiting for what?

“This pack isn’t as invincible as you want to believe,” Kellan whispered, venom dripping beneath the calm. “Not with secrets like these.”

Dorian’s laugh was low, a menacing rumble that shook the faded plaster overhead. “Secrets are power, Kellan. And power is control.”

Kurt’s hand twitched, fingers curling into a fist as the room trembled under the weight of that promise.

Kellan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “But power without loyalty is a house built on sand.”

Kara’s stomach churned. The air crackled with a storm that had just broken loose. And now the question hung between them—raw, dangerous, impossible to ignore.

Kellan’s dark eyes bore into Kurt, unflinching. “How long can we trust you, Alpha?”

Kurt’s silence was like a drawn blade.

And somewhere deep inside, Kara knew—nothing would ever be the same again.

A breath caught in her throat.

Behind the door, the city hummed, oblivious to the fractures spreading inside this small room.

For the first time, trust felt like a fragile, fading thing—threatening to snap and shatter with the slightest touch.

“Answer me,” Kellan pressed.

Kurt’s voice, low and unyielding, finally broke the silence. “I’m still the Alpha.”

The words barely settled when a chorus of creaks outside signaled approaching footsteps—steady, purposeful.

Kara’s gaze flicked back to the scar—unseen scars born not just from teeth and claws, but from tangled lies and bleeding debts.

And then the knock came.

Sharp. Insistent.

---

End Chapter 7.