Chapter 113

ELENA

The medallion caught the light again as Logan turned it slowly in his hand, making sure everyone could see it. Whispers had already started rippling through the crowd before he even spoke again, but when he did, his voice was sharp and commanding—meant for everyone.

“A Silverclaw crest,” he said, just loud enough to be casual. Just loud enough to spark fire.

Gasps cut through the courtyard.

Someone near me muttered, “But I thought it was rogues…”

Another voice: “Does this mean Silverclaw broke the treaty?”

Logan let the silence stretch just long enough before continuing. “I wonder,” he said, cocking his head slightly, “if that’s why Derek was so quick to offer his help. So eager to run off and ‘defend’ us.”

I blinked, stunned.

“What the hell are you implying?” I asked sharply.

Logan didn’t even glance at me. He looked only at Derek, who had taken one slow step forward. His face was calm. His eyes were not.

“Did you want to go out there to help us, Derek,” Logan asked, voice rising, “or to make sure they got away?”

The entire crowd tensed like a bowstring.

The air was thick with confusion and blooming suspicion. I could see the subtle shifts—shoulders squaring, jaws tightening. This wasn’t some reckless offhand comment. Logan was seeding doubt. Out loud. In public.

Derek’s lips parted like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. And then, with a breath, he spoke.

“I volunteered to help because there was a threat on your territory,” he said, voice low but steady. “And my son was here. I would never stand by when there’s danger near him.”

More murmurs from the crowd. Some people nodding their heads, seeing the sense in this.

Derek took another step, lifting his chin.

“And if you’re really asking me if Silverclaw violated the Alliance Summit treaty—” his voice hardened “—then I’ll answer you clearly. No. We have not. We would not.”

Logan opened his mouth, but Derek cut him off.

“I swear on Aiden’s life.”

A beat of silence.

“I swear on my son’s life that Silverclaw has honored the treaty. That we have not armed rogues, that we did not send them here, and that we are not the enemy.”

Every head in the courtyard turned to the Moonstone Alpha.

Even Logan shut his mouth.

The silence felt holy.

The Alpha studied Derek for a long moment. The only sound was the crackling of torches and the faint rustle of wind.

Then he spoke.

“Any man who swears on his son’s life,” he said slowly, “particularly when that life is my grandson—well. That’s good enough for me.”

The air shifted.

Relief rushed through me, so fast and dizzying that I had to blink twice.

My father continued, turning his voice toward the guests as well. “It was a rogue attack. Probably designed to provoke a response like this. To turn us against each other. But we will not fall prey to it. Moonstone does not break at the first snap of fear. Nor do we make enemies out of allies.”

He gave Logan a pointed look.

Then raised his arms.

“Enough of this nonsense. Let the festivities recommence!”

The crowd erupted—not in celebration, not yet—but in motion. Movement. Voices. Laughter beginning to return. Just like that, the night began to breathe again.

Logan stayed still for a moment longer, then slipped away.

Derek let out a slow breath beside me.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger. Relief. Gratitude.

But I knew one thing for certain: I’d never seen him look more like Aiden’s father than he had when he swore on their bond.

---

The crowd gradually shifted back toward the main lawn. The Bondfires—large ceremonial flames at the center of every Moonbinding Festival—were being stacked and prepped now, and the children’s version, a smaller setup on the east end of the estate, was already surrounded by excited, bouncing young wolves holding sticks, stones, and trinkets.

“Children!” the Luna called, sweeping her hands wide. “Those of you who placed in the scavenger hunt—please come forward!”

Aiden bolted ahead so fast I didn’t even have time to call his name. His ribbon from the hunt was still in his hand, and he waved it in the air as he ran.

My mother stepped forward, her voice smooth and warm as it carried over the gathered crowd. “Tonight, as tradition dictates,” she began, “the children who placed first through fourth in our scavenger hunt will have the honor of lighting the corners of the Bondfire.”

Aiden visibly vibrated with excitement, practically bouncing on his toes.

“But before we begin,” the Luna added, raising her hand gently, “let me tell you why this matters.”

The children paused, wide-eyed.

“The Bondfire is more than just a flame,” she said, turning slightly so her voice touched both the youngest pups and the watching adults. “It’s a symbol of unity. Of dreams. But for the children... it is a promise.”

The crowd quieted, listening now not just with their ears, but with reverence.

“This fire burns for the futures you imagine. For the hopes you carry. For the joy you create,” she continued, looking at the ring of small, solemn faces.

“When you light this fire, you are lighting the path to the world you want to build. And when you make your wish... the Moon Goddess listens.”

Four small torches were handed out, each one already flickering with a slow, steady flame.

The children were guided to each corner of the prepared woodpile, their excitement contained only by the weight of the moment.

The Luna smiled. “On three.”

The entire crowd joined in, voices rising with pride and warmth.

“One! Two! Three!”

The children pressed their torches to the wood. The bundle caught immediately—flames leapt up and danced along the dry edges, golden and crackling. Sparks soared into the darkening sky.

The children shrieked with joy, spinning in triumphant little circles as the fire came alive.

Aiden turned immediately, beaming as he scanned the crowd until he found us.

“Watch me!” he shouted.

“We’re watching!” I called back, grinning.

“Don’t blink!” he added, his voice full of giddy magic. “You might miss my wish!”

Derek chuckled beside me, arms crossed.

The Luna stepped up once more.

“Now that the fire is lit,” she said warmly, “those of you children who would like to offer a token—this is the time.”

A small bowl of symbolic pieces sat nearby—smooth stones, shaped wood, ribbons, and clay charms.

“In the adult ceremony,” the Luna said, “we burn tokens to pray for protection, strength, or fertility. For the children…” she smiled, “you may make a wish.”

Gasps of excitement followed. Small hands reached into the bowl, each child taking one piece. They lined up at the edge of the fire like little acolytes, reverent and wriggly all at once.

Aiden stepped forward last, holding a small silver coin with the Moonbinding symbol carved into it.

He looked at the fire for a long second.

Then whispered something I couldn’t hear.

He tossed the coin into the flames.

It disappeared with a small burst of spark.

And then he ran full-tilt back to us.

“Well?” I asked, kneeling as he skidded to a stop in front of us. “What did you wish for?”

He grinned, eyes gleaming.

“I’m not telling.”

Derek laughed. “A man of mystery.”

Aiden puffed up his chest. “The Moon Goddess knows. That’s enough.”

I looked between the two of them—my son, his father—and felt something twist in my chest. Not in pain. But in possibility.

What had he wished for?

And if the Moon Goddess was listening… would she grant it?