- DEREK
I straightened my tie in the mirrored window, adjusting the knot for the third time even though it hadn’t moved. The glass reflected a version of myself I recognized–groomed, composed, steady. But on the inside? I was coiled wire.
Elena stood nearby, quiet, trying to keep her breathing steady. She was dressed simply— classy but unpretentious, like always. Her hair was down, loose around her shoulders.
She stood tall, chin up, eyes forward, her expression fixed in the kind of stoic calm you had to learn young if you were born into power.
But I could still feel the tension rolling off of her.
Since returning to Moonstone–since the Alpha Ball–Elena had always worn confidence like a second skin–elegant, untouchable, a force in her own right.
But now…there was a tightness in her jaw. A flicker of something brittle behind her eyes. She was holding herself together with sheer will.
I’d seen it before, in soldiers right before battle. Or a funeral where the casket was still
open.
And maybe this was both.
I shot my cuffs and made sure my cufflinks were where they needed to be.
The air was thick with static–press bodies packed together beyond the risers, cameras trained on the stage, whispers and murmurs rising like wind before a storm.
I glanced over at her.
“You okay?” I asked, softly.
She didn’t look at me when she answered. “This is why I never went out in public,” she
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muttered. Mason, standing beside her, snorted.
“This is why I told Father we should’ve stayed quiet about the funeral,” he added.
She turned to him. “We didn’t tell anyone about the funeral.”
Mason looked pointedly at me. I didn’t rise to the bait.
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Instead, I shot my cuff again and looked at my watch. The press were already seated. The mics were hot. The buzz of cameras and reporters‘ voices filtered through the doors, like a rising tide just waiting to break.
“Derek,” Mason said, stepping closer, his voice low. “If this backfires, it’s not just you and
Elena who take the hit. The whole Alliance is teetering. The Summit could fall apart before it even begins.”
I met his gaze evenly. “You think I don’t know that?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and for a second I thought he’d say more. But then the doors
opened.
It was showtime.
I stepped up to the podium, the bank of microphones stretching toward me like a multi- headed beast. Elena stood to my right, Mason behind her. I let my eyes scan the room- local journalists, pack press liaisons, freelance media wolves.
A few I recognized from their coverage of the Alpha Ball. And then there was him–Carlton Brier. Cassandra’s old school friend, now conveniently positioned front and center with a smug glint in his eye.
“I’d like to begin with a prepared statement,” I said into the mics, lifting the page from the podium.
But I never got the chance to read it.
“Alpha Derek!” someone shouted. “Is it true you were fated mates?”
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A wave of murmurs swept through the room. I glanced at Elena.
“We were,” I said flatly.
“Were?” a woman pressed. “Does that mean one of you rejected the bond?”
I kept my tone even. “That’s all either of us is prepared to say at this time.”
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Carlton pushed himself up from his seat, holding a tablet with a still image of Elena from the wedding, yanking her hand away from me. “Princess Elena,” he said, voice amplified. “Did you fake your death?”
The room exploded. Shouts. Questions. Flashes.
Beside me, Elena stiffened.
And took a step backwards.
ELENA
I could barely hear anything past the ringing in my ears. My vision narrowed, my stomach twisted. The words–fake your death, fated mates, rejected bond–they were crashing around in my head like a storm.
I hated being here. Exposed. Under scrutiny. My pulse pounded behind my eyes.
I wasn’t ready.
And then his hand closed around mine.
It was steady. Warm. Infuriatingly comforting.
I looked up, meeting his eyes.
He nodded.
Derek stepped forward, taking control again. His voice was calm, clipped, the same voice
I’d heard deliver commands back when I lived in Silverclaw.
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“A little over six years ago, Elena was involved in a rogue attack,” he said, and the room fell silent.
“She was injured. Gravely. When she awoke, she was suffering from amnesia. She had no memory of who or what she was.”
There were a few snickers. I heard them. I felt them like barbs under my skin.
“It was then that I found her,” Derek continued. “That we discovered we were mates.”
“You had a wedding planned,” someone called out.
“It was in all the papers,” another added.
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Derek didn’t miss a beat. “We did. But Elena wasn’t ready, and we took a step back.”
He squeezed my hand again, and this time, I drew strength from it.
I stepped up to the mic.
“Yes,” I said, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat and repeated it, stronger this time. “Yes. That’s true. And that day–our wedding day–I was attacked. I was in a terrible accident. I was in a coma for weeks.”
The silence deepened.
“Who attacked you?” A reporter called out.
“Which time?” I answered. There were a few laughs as the tension eased. Derek squeezed my hand and I glanced at him to find him looking back. I took a breath and turned back to the bank of microphones.
“Derek had every reason to believe I was dead,” I went on. “I only woke up a day or two before the funeral. My family had found me. They had been looking for me for months- had thought me lost. They took me home. I still had no memories. I convalesced on my pack lands and stayed out of the spotlight.”
“Until now!” someone shouted.
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The room chuckled.
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I did too. “Until now,” I said. “But know this–Moonstone and Silverclaw are committed to the Alliance the Alpha Council is calling for. Both packs will be present at the upcoming
summit. United.”
Derek raised our joined hands like a victory gesture. I didn’t resist, but I didn’t feel
victorious either.
We had survived the moment.
Barely.
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The moment we were off the stage, I let go of his hand like it burned me.
Mason spoke first. “I think it might have worked.”
“Only because your sister is so damned charming,” Derek said, his brow furrowed. “And only by the skin of our teeth. We need to be careful. If anything like this happens again, especially at or just after the summit, before things get a chance to work against the rogues, we may be in real trouble.”
He was completely right. I would need to watch myself. I was still so angry with him, even after all these years, but I would have to put on a more placid, friendly mien around him, particularly in front of the press.
“Goddess,” I muttered. “If I ever find out who leaked that story…”
Derek’s jaw ticked, the muscle flexing as he looked away from me, toward the now–empty press platform where the microphones still stood, the cameras blinking red. The crowd was dispersing, but the aftershock of the scandal still clung to the air like smoke.
“I think I know,” Derek said, and his expression went cold.
He turned on his heel and stormed away.
I didn’t try to stop him.
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Chapter 58
