Chapter 127

DEREK

The room still smelled like fresh paint.

The new bedding hadn’t quite lost its store scent either—crisp fabric, a little too new, the faint chemical undertone of being unboxed that morning.

But it didn’t matter. Aiden was already halfway under the covers, head turned toward the window, blanket clutched in one hand, the other gently brushing the plush moon-and-stars comforter that Caroline had helped him pick out that afternoon.

I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching him settle in.

“This one’s just for you,” I said quietly. “Whenever you come visit Silverclaw, this will be your room.”

He turned to look at me, eyes half-lidded but bright. “Really?”

I nodded. “Really. Yours. No one else’s.”

He smiled softly and glanced around. The walls were still bare, but there was a framed print of a wolf howling at the moon above the headboard, and the bed was already scattered with pillows shaped like stars and one slightly deformed stuffed rocket ship.

“You think about how you want to decorate the rest of it?” I asked, walking in and sitting beside him.

Aiden nodded sleepily. “Yeah. I want space stuff.”

“Space stuff, huh?”

“Mmhm.” He blinked slowly. “Stars. Planets. Constellations. Like a whole sky.”

I smoothed a hand over his hair. “Why space?”

His voice was small, barely above a whisper. “Because space is quiet. And far away. No one can come and get you in space.”

That hit harder than I expected.

“If I was in space,” he said, “I’d be the only one up there. Just floating. Safe.”

I swallowed hard.

It was easy to forget sometimes—how resilient kids were, how fast they bounced back—but moments like this reminded me that the cracks were still there. Still forming. Just beneath the surface.

I could still see him in the firelight, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, shaking but trying not to show it.

This was the first time he’d been alone with me overnight. The first time since his world had turned upside down—again.

“You want to go back to Moonstone?” I asked gently. “Tonight, I mean. You can. I’d understand.”

His eyes opened fully, and he looked up at me, serious. “No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” He reached out and clutched my arm, as if he thought I might disappear. “I want to stay here.”

The words warmed something in me I didn’t even know had grown cold.

I nodded and tucked the blanket around him more tightly. “Then here you’ll stay.”

Aiden yawned, turning onto his side to face me. His voice was soft, curious. “Why is it called Silverclaw? That’s a weird name. Silver’s bad for wolves, right?”

I smiled faintly and nodded. “Yeah. It is. For most.”

He blinked at me, eyes big and waiting.

I leaned back against the headboard and looked up at the ceiling, letting the shadows stretch above us like a starless sky. “You want to know the story?”

Aiden gave a sleepy nod. “Yeah.”

I exhaled and let my voice drop to a low rhythm, steady and sure. “A long time ago—long before this pack existed, before there were formal titles or borders or Councils—there was a lone wolf who lived near a silver mine.”

“Alone?” he whispered.

“Yes. But not by choice. He’d been hunted out of his home, driven into the mountains. The humans who lived nearby worked the mine—digging silver from the rock day and night. They didn’t know he was there, not at first. And they didn’t know what he was.”

Aiden pulled the blanket up to his chin, rapt.

“But on the night of a full moon,” I continued, “he changed. His shift was seen. And the moment they realized he was more than just a man… they were afraid.”

I glanced at Aiden, who was holding his breath.

“They set traps. Dug pits. Forged blades tipped in silver and laid them in the woods. One night, they caught him. Nearly ended him. But even with his body broken and silver burning through his veins, he didn’t run. He didn’t die.”

“What did he do?” Aiden asked, eyes wide.

“He crawled out of the pit. He found one of their blades—the same blade meant to kill him. And he turned it into something else. He bound it to his hand, forged it into a weapon not made for man or wolf—but for both. A claw.”

“A silver claw?”

I nodded. “Yeah. The first. The only. It seared his flesh every time he used it. Every swing hurt. But he used it anyway.”

“That sounds… awful.”

“It was,” I said. “But he made that pain his purpose. Every battle, every fight he walked into—he carried the silver claw. And with it, he took down every hunter who had tried to end him. He didn’t hide from what hurt him. He wielded it.”

Aiden’s voice was a whisper. “Even though it burned him?”

“Especially because it burned him.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

“That’s what Silverclaw means,” I said, my voice slow and steady. “It’s not about silver. It’s not about being invincible. It’s about facing what’s meant to destroy you—and turning it into something that makes you stronger.”

I looked down and found Aiden staring up at the ceiling like he could already see the stars there, like he was painting his own constellations in his head.

“It’s about making power from pain,” I said. “Fear from fire. Strength from suffering.”

Aiden didn’t say anything at first. I didn’t rush him.

He finally turned to look at me. “Do you think he was scared?”

I nodded. “I think he was terrified. I think he felt pain with every step he took. But he didn’t let it stop him.”

Aiden was quiet again, but I could see something shifting in his little face—like a weight was lifting, or maybe settling into place. “So I’m kind of like the Silverclaw wolf.”

My throat tightened.

“You’re exactly like him.”

He gave one last yawn and rolled onto his side. “Okay. But I still want stars on the ceiling.”

I laughed softly. “Done.”

He was asleep before I left the room.

---

Downstairs, the packhouse was quiet. The hour was late, and most of the staff had retired for the night. The old hardwood floors creaked under my steps as I made my way to the command room, where Joe was still up, hunched over a map and a cup of reheated coffee.

He looked up when I entered. “He settle in okay?”

I nodded. “He wants the room to look like space.”

Joe cracked a grin. “We’ll call in an artist and make it happen. Get the glow-in-the-dark stars and everything.”

I leaned against the table. “I need you to find someone.”

Joe’s humor vanished. “Who?”

“Maggie. Elena’s friend. The rogue.”

His jaw tightened. “You think she’s involved?”

“I think she might be leading Pierce’s faction.”

He whistled low under his breath. “Shit.”

“She saved Elena once,” I said. “She’s not evil. But she’s got reasons to hate this pack. Deep ones. And if she’s leading them… I need to talk to her.”

Joe gave a slow nod. “We’ll put the intel network on it. Cast the net wide.”

“Don’t spook her,” I added. “Not yet. Just find her.”

He scribbled a note. “I’ll start with the usual contacts. See if there’s been any rogue activity in the last week that fits her M.O.”

“One more thing,” I said.

He looked up.

“Cassandra,” I said. “I want everything checked.”

Joe frowned. “You think she’s involved with the rogues too?”

“No,” I said. “I think that’s a whole different set of lies.”

Joe flipped through a folder, pulled something out, and slid it toward me. He sighed. “I’ve known Cass a long time. You know Caroline and I love her. But…you were right to be suspicious.”

My stomach turned as I looked at the contents. Fake appointment confirmations. A non-existent clinic. A name that had been scrubbed clean.

“No payment records,” Joe said. “No clinic in that location. No employee named Amy. And no medical license registered to the OB she claimed to be seeing.”

I stared at the page. The ultrasound was a lie.

“All of it?” I asked.

Joe gave me a grim look. “Every word.”

My hands clenched into fists.

Maggie might be leading a rogue uprising.

But Cassandra?

She was playing a longer game.