ELENA
“Yes, I’ve spoken with him. Twice,” my father said, sounding exasperated. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and looked at me across the desk. “Our best attorney, the one who handled the Silverclaw–Moonstone land dispute? He’s with Maggie now. Everything’s in motion. You can stop worrying.”
“I’m not worried,” I said, even though we both knew I was lying. I stood with my arms crossed, a tension knotting in my shoulders that hadn’t gone away in days. “I just need to know she has someone who’s actually going to help her.”
My father let out a breath and sat back in his chair. The late morning sunlight streamed through the windows behind him, illuminating the pale gold embroidery on the jacket he wore.
“I’m still not sure I understand why you’re helping her, Elena,” he said. “She’s responsible for all the recent attacks on Moonstone. From what I understand, she’s admitted as much.”
“Everyone is entitled to a strong defense, Father,” I said primly.
He sighed. “You’re acting like she’s your sister.”
I stared at him. “She was like a sister.”
He looked skeptical. “I was a rogue once too,” I finally said.
That made him pause. Really pause. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t argue either. He just sat with it. Good.
“You’re not a rogue anymore,” he said finally, his voice softer. “You came back to us. You’re part of this pack.”
“And what about the ones who have no home to come back to?” I asked. “What about the ones who don’t get lucky?”
He shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
Before he could come up with a response, I heard a knock at the front door.
I turned, heart leaping for a reason I didn’t understand until I saw Derek’s tall frame filling the doorway.
Derek.
It had only been two days since we’d last spoken, since he’d gotten me out of the interrogation room, tucked me under hotel sheets, and held me while I trembled. That day lived in my memory like a lighthouse against the storm–his arms around me, solid and unyielding, the steady beat of his heart the only thing anchoring me.
Seeing him now in the warm, familiar space of my packhouse made my chest tighten painfully.
He was here to pick up Aiden.
He offered a soft smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Aiden came tearing down the hallway a second later, launching himself into his father’s arms. Derek caught him with ease, lifting him for a second and setting him down again with a rumble of a laugh.
“Ready for the game?” he asked. He was taking Aiden to his first professional baseball game. Aiden had been talking about it for days.
“Yes! I just have to get my shoes and jacket!” Aiden darted up the stairs without another word.
Derek stepped into the foyer. I closed the door behind him.
“You look…” I hesitated. “Tired.”
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“It’s been a long morning,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Not properly. “Something happen?”
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He glanced up the stairs, waited until Aiden was out of earshot, and then turned back to me with something unreadable in his eyes. Something heavy.
“Logan is dead,” he said.
The world narrowed into a pinpoint.
“What?”
“He was found this morning,” Derek said quietly. “On the edge of the Blightwood. No visible injuries. No clear cause. Just… gone.
My legs nearly gave out. I grabbed the banister, breathing fast.
“The Blightwood? Why would he…”
Derek shook his head. “We don’t know. But it wasn’t natural. The guards said the air felt… wrong.”
I wanted to laugh or cry or scream, but there was no emotion left in me. “He ran there for help,” I whispered. “That’s where the dark priestess lives. Where they tried to break our bond.”
Derek’s hand brushed my arm, gentle, grounding. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”
But I couldn’t answer, not really. Because Aiden was bounding down the stairs, his jacket half on, his sneakers mismatched.
“Ready to go, Dad?”
Derek looked at me, something flickering in hi
“Yeah, bud. I’m ready.”
They walked out together.
-regret? Concern? I wasn’t sure. Then he ruffled Aiden’s hair and smiled.
I stood at the window and watched Derek buckle Aiden into the car, saw the way my son leaned forward with animated excitement, already babbling about hot dogs and home runs. Derek listened, nodded, smiled.
And then they were gone.
I stood there, unmoving, the silence of the house pressing in around me,
Logan was dead.
Just like that.
No trial.
No confrontation.
No answers.
No final moment to look him in the eye and ask him why.
I walked to the kitchen, filled a glass of water with shaking hands, and sat at the long wooden table. I stared at the glass for a long time before lifting it to my lips.
This was how it ended.
After all the pain. The secrets. The way he manipulated my memories, warped my sense of reality. I had imagined screaming at him, dragging the truth out piece by piece. Thad imagined justice.
Chapter 232
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And instead–he was gone.
Swallowed by the same darkness he once courted.
The worst part was how empty I felt. I didn’t even know if I was grieving. Or if I was just relieved.
I thought about the Logan I’d known growing up. The friend who taught me to climb trees, who snuck cookies to me when the kitchen was closed.
And then I thought about the Logan who had lied, who had tampered with my memories, who had tried to chain me to a life that was never really mine.
Maybe both had been real. Maybe that was what hurt the most.
But one thing was clear. I wasn’t going to let someone else dictate my fate again. Not my father. Not the Council. Not Derek. And certainly not the ghosts of men who thought they could mold me into something safe and pliant.
I stood.
Walked to the front hall.
Picked up my phone and scrolled through my messages until I found the contact I needed.
If there was going to be real change–if the rogue situation was going to be addressed–then I wanted a seat at that table.
More than that.
I wanted to lead the conversation.
Not just about Maggie. But about all of it. About what happens to wolves like me when they lose everything. About memory and power and the weight of the Moon Goddess’s design.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
For a moment, fear whispered at the back of my mind. Who was I to challenge the status quo? To demand a voice among Alphas and Elders?
But then I remembered.
I was Elena Hart.
And I had survived everything they threw at me.
I pressed the button, put the phone to my ear, listened to the dial tone.
And when a voice finally answered on the other end, I said what I needed to say.
Because for the first time in a long time, I knew who I was.
And I wasn’t afraid to say it out loud.
