Chapter 45
ELENA
There were a dozen things I was supposed to be focusing on–logistics for the Alliance Summit, reviewing proposals from nearby packs, scheduling site visits for infrastructure coordination–but my mind kept circling back to one thing.
Mason.
More specifically, Mason’s absence.
He’d been disappearing for days now. Not entirely, just enough to make it noticeable. He missed two morning meetings without explanation, then showed up late to our strategy call with the pack’s Beta Council, eyes bloodshot and shirt half untucked–something I hadn’t seen since he was seventeen and sneaking out to meet girls at.bonfires.
But this wasn’t high school. This was war. Or something dangerously close to it.
I leaned over the thick maps spread across the table in my father’s office and tapped my finger against a red–marked border.
“Something’s off,” I muttered.
Gamma Chad, who was standing across from me with arms folded, raised an eyebrow. “Which part?”
“All of it.” I blew out a breath and stepped back. “None of the recent rogue attacks make sense. They’re too organized. Too precise. They’re hitting supply lines, communication
towers, outposts–not just running wild.”
“It’s concerning,” Chad agreed, his jaw tightening. “Rogues don’t generally operate with… strategy.”
That got me thinking. I knew how to fight–most werewolves do–but I’d been brought up a Luna–military strategy wasn’t really in the syllabus.
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I looked to Chad. “If you were a rogue, what would you do? How would you win against packs like ours?”
His mouth quirked, just a little. “Coordinate. Unite scattered groups. Strike surgically, not chaotically. Create fear. Confusion. Distrust.” He paused. “In other words… I’d do exactly what they’re doing now.”
The words settled into my stomach like ice.
“Goddess,” I whispered. “They’re organizing.”
Chad gave a curt nod. “Certainly looks that way.”
I wanted to scream. Or shift. Or throw something.
I was born a Luna, raised in strength and diplomacy, trained in the old arts of reading people and calming storms with words instead of claws. I’d always known I wasn’t the tactician Mason was, or my father, or even Derek.
But lately? Mason wasn’t around. And my father, while still sharp as ever, had been slowly scaling back his work schedule–as much as I didn’t want to think about it, he was approaching the age that he’d be recruited to join the Alpha Council as an elder.
So it fell to me.
“I’ll keep digging,” Chad said, his voice steady. “We’ll figure it out.”
I nodded again, grateful, and took the long way through the corridors back to the residential wing. I needed a break–a soft place to land, even if only for a minute.
I wasn’t expecting to find it in Dawn.
She was already halfway through the glass doors to my suite, her arms open wide, a squeal escaping her lips.
“Elena!”
“Dawn!” I laughed, wrapping her in a hug and breathing in the familiar scent of honey and
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bergamot. She smelled like home. Like the years before everything fractured.
She stepped back, holding out her left hand proudly. The diamond caught the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.
“Look at that thing,” I teased. “Is it blinding or is it just me?”
She giggled. “I’m not saying it’s heavy, but I’ve had to strengthen my wrist.”
I smiled. “Come on in,” I said, welcoming her to my inner sanctum.
Dawn was one of the few people who I remembered from before my accident–my memories of her amongst the few that had trickled back in during my memory sessions with Dr. Grey.
“Can I get you something to drink?” I offered.
“I can’t stay long,” she said, sinking into one of the cozy chairs in my personal sitting room. “So much wedding planning still to do!”
I lowered myself into the chair opposite her, smiling, but her gaze slipped downward, just for a second, to my bare ring finger. She didn’t say anything, but I saw the question flicker
in her eyes.
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