Chapter 100

ELENA

The drive back to Moonstone was quiet, but not uncomfortable.

The sun was dipping behind the trees, casting long streaks of gold across the windshield. Pine shadows flickered over the hood as we followed the winding road north, back toward our father, our pack, and the very carefully maintained illusion that everything was fine.

Mason drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, glancing at me between turns. I could feel the questions rolling through his head like marbles in a glass jar.

“You’re staring,” I said without looking at him.

“I’m thinking,” he replied.

“Same thing.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. “You gonna tell me how the latest memory treatment went, or do I have to guess?”

I sighed, tilting my head against the headrest. “They’re not really like treatments anymore. More like… guided sessions.”

“Does it help?”

“Yes and no.” I hesitated. “Some things come back sharp. Like a picture with the contrast turned all the way up. But then other things—people, places—still feel like I’m watching someone else’s life. Like I’m trespassing in my own past.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

Mason didn’t say anything for a while. The trees thinned out briefly, and we passed a field glowing gold in the late light. I let the silence settle before nudging his arm.

“What about you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You and Erin. How’s it going?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but not in distress. More like restraint.

“She misses me,” he said. “I miss her.”

“I figured.”

He gave a tight nod. “It’s hard. Not being able to have her here. Not knowing when I’ll see her next. I trust her, but that doesn’t make it easier. There’s no routine to this. No plan.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “You deserve more than stolen weekends and vague excuses.”

“So do you,” he said, glancing over.

I gave him a wry smile. “We’re not talking about me.”

“We never are,” he muttered. “But seriously, Lena… when do we get to be happy?”

It wasn’t a real question. Not one I could answer, anyway.

Still, I reached over and touched his wrist.

“We’ll figure it out. You and Erin, me and… whatever I’m supposed to do next. But you’re not alone, Mason. You never were.”

He didn’t look at me, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I know,” he said.

The estate came into view just after that. Familiar stone walls, tall hedges, the wrought iron gates that always made the place feel more like a fortress than a home.

But it wasn’t the gates that made my stomach twist.

It was the man waiting in front of them.

Arms crossed. Jaw locked.

Father.

Mason let out a breath through his nose. “It appears,” he said. “As though Father is in something of a mood.”

“Yep,” I snorted.

“Maybe it’s a good mood.”

“Yes,” I said sarcastically. “It certainly looks like it.”

We exchanged a glance.

We were barely out of the car before Father ordered us inside.

We hadn’t even made it past the foyer when the scent of rage hit—thick with cedar and old smoke. Our father turned to us in the middle of the dining room, the long oak table cleared of everything but a single sheet of paper.

He didn’t speak as we entered.

He didn’t have to.

He picked up the paper, stepped forward, and slammed it onto the table between us.

The photograph skidded across the polished surface and landed face-up.

It was grainy. Taken from a distance. Probably a surveillance drone or an old-fashioned zoom lens. But the figures in the image were clear enough.

Me. And Mason.

In a car.

In the roguelands.

I sucked in a breath.

“What is the meaning of this?” my father said, his voice like ice cracking under pressure.

Mason’s jaw tensed. He looked at me, silently asking what I wanted him to do. I could lie. I could cover for both of us.

And I almost did.

But my brother had done so much for me lately. Protected me. Covered for me. Kept my secrets. I wasn’t about to let him burn alone.

So I stepped forward.

“I know how it looks,” I began, keeping my voice calm. “But it’s not what you think.”

My father stared at me like I was an insect he wasn’t sure he wanted to squash or interrogate. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

I took a slow breath. “Do you remember Erin and Carly? And Maggie? The women who took me in after my accident? They’ve been helping me recover—trying to trigger lost memories. Mason and I went back to check on them. That’s all.”

Mason’s hand touched my arm.

“Lena,” he said gently. “It’s okay.”

He stepped forward, his spine straight, every inch the son of an Alpha.

“The truth is, Dad,” he said, voice even, “we were in the roguelands because I was visiting my fated mate.”

The words hung in the air like a blade mid-fall.

For a moment, everything went silent.

Then our father’s face twisted.

“Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that your mate is a rogue?”

“Yes,” Mason said, firm. “Elena’s friend Erin. And I love her.”

Our father recoiled like he’d been struck.

“You love her,” he spat. “You love some mongrel castoff? You love a rogue?”

“She’s more than that,” Mason said, shoulders tightening. “She’s kind. Brave. Loyal. She saved Elena’s life. She’s smart, Dad. She’s working to build something new. She’s—”

“She’s beneath you,” our father bellowed. The walls trembled. “You are my heir. The Moon Goddess would never pair you with some middling girl with no rank, no bloodline—”

I stepped forward, the words ripping out of me before I could think.

“You hypocrite.”

My father blinked.

I kept going.

“Do you not remember how I was treated in Silverclaw?” I demanded.

“After my accident? After I lost my memory and showed up looking like nothing? I was fated to an Alpha, and they treated me like trash. Like a mistake. Like the Moon Goddess couldn’t possibly choose someone like me.”

His expression darkened.

“Because I had no name. No status. Because I was just a rogue, remember? That’s what they said. That I was unworthy. That I must have tricked Derek, or the bond had to be fake. I lived that judgment. I nearly drowned in it.”

I stepped closer. My voice shook with fury, but I didn’t let it break.

“And now you’re doing the same thing to Erin.”

“She is not the same as you.”

“No,” I said, “she’s not. She’s never had a pack to fight for her. She’s had to make her life out of nothing. And you know what? She’s stronger than most wolves I’ve ever met. Including some here.”

He bristled.

“She makes Mason happy,” I said. “Isn’t that what you want for your son?”

“I want what is best for him.”

“No,” I said. “You want what’s easiest for you.”

The silence that followed was thick. Alive.

My father’s face was carved from granite. Mason stood beside me, still as a statue, his hand twitching once before falling to his side.

Finally, our father straightened.

“You are both confined to the estate until further notice,” he said. “There will be no contact with the roguelands. No more secrets. No more lies. And if I find out either of you defied that order—”

“You’ll what?” I snapped. “Disown us? Lock us up? Pretend we’re dead?”

His nostrils flared.

I shook my head.

“There’s more to people than bloodlines,” I said, quieter now. “The world is changing, whether you like it or not. Packs are changing. Alliances are shifting. You can either evolve, or you can fade away clinging to outdated traditions and broken pride.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away.

I didn’t care what else he had to say. I didn’t need to hear it.

Because in that moment, I wasn’t the princess he remembered. I wasn’t the daughter who begged for his approval. I wasn’t the girl who was supposed to smile and nod and obey.

I was Elena Hart.

And I was done letting people like him decide what anyone was worth.