Chapter 102

ELENA

The door to my father’s study was already cracked open.

I paused outside anyway, hand resting against the worn wood. It had been years since I’d knocked to enter this room—back then, I’d always been too eager to be invited inside, too desperate to sit across from him and feel like he was proud of something I’d done.

Now? I didn’t even know what I’d say once I stepped in.

But Mason wasn’t going to come. And someone had to.

I pushed the door open gently.

He was seated behind the broad oak desk, the same one he’d used since I was a child, though the surface was clearer now. Fewer books. Fewer papers.

Just a crystal tumbler of something amber he hadn’t touched, and a framed photo of the four of us—me and Mason standing between our parents, all dressed in formal wear from some long-forgotten ceremony. I couldn’t remember what it had been for. Maybe an alliance gala, or a naming day for someone in the pack.

We were all smiling in the photo, a happy family.

My father didn’t look up when I stepped inside. Just stared down at the glass like he was trying to decide if drinking it would make any of this easier to swallow.

“I knocked,” I said softly. “You just didn’t hear it.”

His eyes lifted slowly, the weight behind them heavier than I expected.

The years had been good to him in some ways—his shoulders were still broad, his jaw still sharp—but there were new lines around his mouth, deeper ones at the corners of his eyes.

He looked like a man who had been fighting an invisible battle with no victories, and no clean losses either. Just the slow erosion of certainty.

“I thought it might be you,” he said finally. “Mason won’t look at me. And my little girl…” His voice cracked faintly, almost too quiet to catch. “Looked like she wanted to take my head off.”

I stepped fully into the room, letting the door close behind me. “I’ve been training,” I said, trying to soften the moment. “You should be grateful I didn’t.”

That earned a huff of a laugh. Dry. Tired. But real.

“You used to run into this office just to tell me when you lost a tooth,” he said, shaking his head. “Now you walk in like a general reporting for duty.”

“Some things change.”

“And some things shouldn’t have to.”

I circled around the desk and leaned down, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He sat stiffly at first, like he wasn’t sure how to receive it. Then he let out a long breath and lifted a hand to pat mine—awkward, uncertain. But it was something.

“I still love you,” I said softly into his ear. “Even when I disagree with you.”

He let that sit between us, like he wasn’t sure he believed it. Or deserved it.

“I don’t like being at odds with my children,” he said finally, his voice rough. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I raised you to be loyal. Steady. I thought—” He cut himself off, jaw flexing.

“You thought we’d follow in your footsteps,” I finished for him.

“I thought I could protect you both by making sure your futures were… already decided. Safe. Clean.”

I straightened up, settling onto the edge of the desk beside him.

“No one plans for the Moon Goddess to mess up their neat little dynasties,” I said gently.

He gave a humorless chuckle. “That’s the trouble with the divine. They rarely ask permission.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him.

“I think sometimes the things we try hardest to control are the ones we’re least meant to.”

He didn’t respond to that. Just looked at the photo on his desk again.

After a beat, he asked, “Do you really think this rogue of Mason’s is good enough for him?”

I didn’t have to think. “She helped save my life,” I said simply. “But honestly? That’s a conversation you should be having with Mason. Not me.”

“Mason is blinded by love,” he muttered. “He’s not going to see sense or reason. Even if I backed it up with evidence.”

I blinked. “Evidence?”

He hesitated. Sighed. “Alpha Derek found documents while investigating Pierce. Moonstone correspondence. Reports. Internal logistics. It was part of what led him to suspect you were in danger—when you were in Barbados.”

I frowned. “I remember. He said something about finding burned scraps. But they were from us?”

He nodded. “Some of the markings were unmistakable. Your mother and I verified them. Not copies. Originals.”

I straightened. “But… how?”

“That’s the question.” He leaned back in his chair, jaw tense. “Those rogue girls lived here, Elena. Under our roof. They slept in guest rooms. Ate our food. Sat at our table. What if they were acting as spies the whole time?”

My stomach twisted. “They weren’t. Carly? Erin? Maggie—”

He cut me off. “You think it’s impossible. I get it. You trust them. They helped you. But where did those documents come from? Who left them behind? Who had access?”

I didn’t have an answer. Not one I liked, anyway.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “If you’re worried about Erin,” I said gently, “then invite her here. Have her over for dinner. I’m not saying interrogate her—just… see for yourself what kind of wolf she is.”

He exhaled slowly, as if the idea hurt to consider.

“I’m not asking you to change your mind,” I added. “I’m asking you to give her a fair shot. That’s all.”

He looked up at me. “How did you get to be so smart? So good at this diplomacy nonsense?”

I smiled. “I had to overcome my genetics.”

He actually laughed. A real one. Deep and brief, but real.

I left his office with a smile on my face.

But it didn’t last long.

As I stepped into the hallway, the last thing he said started to circle in my mind again like a vulture.

Where did those documents come from?

They had lived under our roof. For weeks. Long enough to unpack, to settle in, to help me heal.

I remembered Maggie moving around the estate like a ghost, afraid to run into anyone. Erin being careful not to speak unless asked. Carly hovering near the windows, anxious, alert.

None of them ever touched the war room. They wouldn’t have had access.

Would they?

I slowed as I reached the stairs.

What if someone else had access? What if the documents hadn’t come from my friends at all—but from someone else? A third party we’d overlooked? Someone hiding behind the same blind spot we’d all agreed not to examine too closely?

But if that was true… why were my friends the ones whose fingerprints were left behind?

My throat went tight.

I thought of Erin’s eyes when she looked at Mason. The way her hands had shaken when she told me she couldn’t come live with him—not like he wanted her too. I thought of how she’d defended me in the roguelands, even when it would’ve been easier to turn away.

She wasn’t a spy.

I knew she wasn’t.

But someone had used the timing. The proximity. The access.

And I couldn’t ignore that anymore.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I pulled out my phone and opened my message thread with Carly.

Me:

Hey. I need to ask you something weird. Do you remember anyone coming and going from the estate back when you stayed here with me? Anyone you didn’t recognize? Anyone who maybe… went places they shouldn’t?

I hesitated before hitting send. Then added another line.

Me:

I’m not accusing anyone. I just need to know if there’s something I missed.

I stared at the message for another second.

Then I pressed send.