Chapter 71
- ELENA
The scent of smoke still lingered in the hallways, clinging to the stone like a memory that wouldn’t wash clean. No matter how many air purifiers buzzed or how many cleaning crews had been rotated in and out overnight, the Summit venue still felt scorched. Haunted.
My boots echoed softly against the tiled floor as I moved down the corridor, past sections still cordoned off by caution tape, shattered windows covered in plywood. It was early— dawn maybe–but no one had been sleeping. Not really. Not since the attack.
I hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes. No time. No energy. I’d only pulled my hair
into a tight braid and re–applied some powder and lipstick, because this wasn’t about
comfort anymore. It was about optics. Appearances. Holding the center together.
The Alpha Council wanted unity, and unity meant showing up. Even when you hadn’t
washed the dried blood from your ankles. Even when your nightmares still had fangs.
The temporary Moonstone quarters had been relocated to a quieter part of the hotel, far
from the summit floor. I knocked once before pushing inside.
Mason was sitting on the edge of his cot, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes shadowed and heavy with exhaustion. He’d taken a hit to the arm last night, I’d heard, but nothing serious. A graze. Enough to slow him down, but not sideline him.
“You look like hell,” I said gently.
He snorted without looking up. “Speak for yourself.”
I shut the door behind me and crossed the room, stopping a few feet away.
We were both too tired to have the conversation I was about to jump into, but we needed to have it. It couldn’t wait.
“I need to ask you something. And I need the truth,” I said.
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He tensed immediately. “Okay.”
“Your mate,” I said. “Is she involved in this?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
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“Don’t look at me like that,” I continued before he could speak. “Rogues attacked the
Alliance Summit. That means every relationship, every bond, every whisper of connection
to the outside world is on the table now.
He looked away, but I pressed on. “You’ve been secretive. You’ve been absent. So I need to know—did she have anything to do with this?”
a
He rose to his feet, his expression thunderous–but not defensive. Protective.
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because I know her. And I trust her.”
“That’s not good enough, Mason.”
“It’s going to have to be,” he shot back. “Because I’m not giving you her name. Not yet.”
The air between us bristled, sharp with old sibling hierarchies. We were both breathing hard, both too tired for this fight.
“She could’ve been killed last night,” he said, his voice dropping. “I could have lost her. So don’t you dare stand there and accuse her of something she had nothing to do with.”
I held his gaze for a long time, then nodded once. “Fine.”
He gathered his jacket from the back of a chair and moved past me toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Out.”
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I didn’t stop him. But I watched him go.
***
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Back in my room, the silence pressed around me like a second skin.
The desk near the window was covered in papers–incident reports, strategy notes, an open laptop blinking with incoming emails. But one envelope caught my eye. Thick
parchment. Ornate crest.
I opened it slowly and read the contents.
A formal invitation to the signing of the Alliance Treaty, scheduled for tomorrow morning.
A symbolic ceremony. A photo opportunity. A chance to show unity.
I scanned the names.
Moonstone: Princess Elena
Silverclaw: Alpha Derek
My name. His. Side by side.
Of course.
I didn’t have the energy to be annoyed.
I placed the letter down beside the others, and walked to the window.
Below, the summit grounds were slowly being pieced back together. Broken walls being patched. Burn marks scrubbed. The stage for the signing already half–built.
As if a few flowers and a press photographer could make people forget the smell of blood in
the air.
MAGGIE
The outpost lay quiet beneath the bruised haze of late afternoon, tucked between the husks of two dead pine trees and the low roll of forgotten hills.
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