Chapter 94

Abigail

Owen was waiting for me, like he said he’d be.

I wish he wasn’t though, considering I wasn’t sure how I felt. Theo was joking around, like usual but he seemed… odd. It was hard to explain but I didn’t feel unsafe. Honestly I felt like I could have sat and chatted all night More like he was warning me.

But I’m not sure how logical that is considering everything.

I barely made it a few steps out of the basement before Owen’s shadow peeled away from the wall, stepping into my path like he’d been expecting this exact moment.

Which, knowing him, he had.

“Abigail,” he said, voice flat, arms crossed. Brother stance #4: ‘I am disappointed, but not surprised.’

I sighed dramatically. “Wow, I missed you so much while I was in there. Did you worry about me? Did your heart ache?”

“Did my—” He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s what they tell me.” I tried to step around him. Keyword: tried.

Owen didn’t move.

“Out of the way, Owen.”

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

I threw up my hands. “You could have came in?”

“No,” Owen scoffed. “Not without losing it. He put you in danger, I’m ticked off.”

I nodded with a sigh. I got it, really, but everyone was feeling a bit dramatic over this.

I was still alive, wasn’t I?

“I talked to him.” I shrugged, “That’s all. No one died. No one even got maimed. I’d say that’s a win.”

Owen’s jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”

I huffed, my fingers twitching at my sides. “Okay, fine. You want an answer?” I met his eyes. “I was right.”

Owen frowned. “Right about what?”

“Theo isn’t our enemy.” I shifted uncomfortably, still not sure how I felt about that truth. “At least… not exactly.”

Owen’s frown deepened. “That’s not the same as saying he’s our friend.”

“He is,” I shot back. “Sure somethings off, but he’s not dangerous—not the way Dad thinks he is.”

Owen let out a sharp laugh, humorless. “Oh, okay. So you, the clueless pup, cracked the case? Figured everything out in one little jailhouse chat? You were in there less then five minutes?”

I bristled. “And I know more than you. Plus, I didn’t say that either.”

“Then what are you saying, Abigail?”

I hesitated.

Because the truth was, Theo did know more than he was letting on. I felt it. In the way he dodged my questions, in the way he looked at me like I was something more than I understood myself to be.

And then there was his warning.

"I wasn’t the only one who came here."

I swallowed hard.

Did he mean the rouges? Or… other wolves in general? What did that have to do with us?

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “I just… something’s not adding up.”

Owen’s eyes searched mine, his usual annoyance shifting into something else. Worry, maybe. Frustration.

Or maybe he was thinking the same thing I was.

That none of this was a coincidence.

That something was coming.

Before he could respond, a voice echoed down the hall—deep, authoritative, carrying weight even at a distance.

Our father.

“Meeting room. Now.”

I didn’t need to see him to know the tension in his shoulders, the steel in his expression.

Something was wrong.

We ducked behind a set of large vases, covering our mouths as the large men passed.

Owen and I flashed a look thinking the same thing.

A meeting? This late? Something must be up.

“Are you sure?” Father’s voice growled low.

A Beta, Miles, answering. “Yes, we have multiple reports they are close to the boarder.”

There footsteps furthered but Owen and I didn’t break our silence, our eyes locked like we could already hear our thoughts.

A new threat, closing in fast.

Alexander

The reports were spread across the table in my office, ink bleeding into the grain of the wood where someone had pressed too hard with a pen. I kept my hands braced against the surface, fingers curled just enough to keep my temper in check.

The air was thick with the scent of paper, ink, and something else—something wrong. A tension that didn’t belong in this room but had settled in anyway, clawing at the edges of my patience.

Three separate reports. Three different sightings.

All in the last two weeks.

Just what I needed on top of the rest of this mess.

“This isn’t a coincidence,” Miles said beside me, arms crossed as he studied the map pinned to the far wall. His dark eyes flicked between the hand-drawn markings, red circles carved into the paper like open wounds. “They’re gathering.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose.

The reports painted a pattern I didn’t like.

Wolves on the edges of our land, unfamiliar scents slipping between patrol routes, old hunting grounds turning up signs of visitors that shouldn’t be here. Scents that weren’t just rogue—but organized.

Rogues didn’t settle. They moved. Stayed quiet. Knew better than to piss off a pack by lingering too long.

And yet, here they were. Around our outskirts like they were waiting. Why?

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. My chair creaked under the movement, the only sound in the room aside from the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. “They’re testing us.”

Lucas, one of the younger betas, shifted uncomfortably. “Borders are marked. They know this land belongs to us.”

“They know,” I muttered. “They just don’t care.”

Which was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Packs had rules. Unwritten ones, but rules all the same. You didn’t cross into someone else’s territory without permission. You didn’t start fights without expecting war. And you sure as hell didn’t linger where you weren’t welcome.

And yet—three separate sightings. Three separate breaches.

The better question is what’s pulling them all here specifically. It wasn’t lie rouges to rally without reason, a cause.

Miles rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Why here?” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “What do they want?”

After mully, I didn’t have an answer. Besides what my kids were, are. My luna, there blood. But those secrets were contained, and happened far too recently to be related.

I turned to Lucas. “Increase patrols. I want more eyes on the borders, especially at night.”

He nodded. “I’ll organize shifts.”

“And I want information,” I added, my voice like iron. “If they’re sticking around, they have a reason. I want to know what it is.”

Lucas hesitated.

A flicker of something crossed his face. Not quite fear, but close.

“There’s something else.”

I lifted a brow. “What?”

Miles sighed, already rubbing a hand over his face like he knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“It’s about the rogue kid.”

Theo.

That damn boy had already caused more trouble than he was worth. The only reason he was still breathing was because Abigail—my daughter, my stubborn, reckless daughter—had insisted he wasn’t a threat.

And against every better instinct, I had let her have this one.

For now.

I straightened. “What about him?” My voice was sharp, a demand more than a question.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “He’s been talking.”

My fingers flexed against the table. “To who?”

Lucas met my gaze. “Abigail. Tonight.”

A muscle in my jaw ticked.

I should’ve seen that coming.

Miles sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose like this was somehow my fault. “You gonna talk to her?”

Of course, I was going to talk to her.

But this wasn’t just about Abigail anymore.

This wasn’t just about one rogue boy.

It was bigger.

I could feel it, creeping under my skin like the change before a shift. A storm building.

And when it broke?

I’d be ready.