Chapter 143

ELENA

The phone was slipping in my sweaty palm, but I refused to hang up.

"I understand protocol," I said tightly, forcing my voice to stay even. "I’m not asking for full disclosure. I’m trying to ascertain if Maggie is being treated fairly and afforded her right of due process."

Static crackled on the line.

"I’m sorry, Miss Hart. No information is being released outside of Council investigation channels. Please submit formal inquiries through your regional Alpha authority—"

"Which I am," I snapped. "Or don’t you recognize the name Moonstone?"

The voice on the other end hesitated for just a fraction too long.

It was answer enough.

They weren’t going to tell me anything.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

Gritting my teeth, I ended the call with a sharp jab of my thumb.

The screen went black.

I stared at it for a moment, anger knotting inside me like a living thing.

They were shutting me out. They were shutting us out.

Like Maggie didn’t deserve a defense. Like she didn’t deserve someone on her side.

I spun on my heel, ready to storm toward my father’s office, ready to demand he throw his Alpha weight around and pull whatever strings he needed to get me access—

When a hand caught my wrist.

"Miss Elena!" a maid gasped, breathless, skidding to a stop beside me. "There’s someone at the door for you."

I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance.

"Who?"

She flushed slightly, glancing over her shoulder.

"Alpha Derek," she said.

My heart skipped a beat.

Derek.

Without another word, I strode down the hall toward the front entrance, the maid trailing after me nervously.

The heavy oak doors loomed ahead, sunlight slanting across the polished marble floor in bright, merciless beams.

I pulled the door open—

And there he was.

Standing on the front step in a dark shirt and jeans, casual but somehow still commanding, the morning light catching the edges of his hair and throwing it into gold.

For a moment, all I could do was feel it.

The flare.

The pull.

The wild, impossible gravity that slammed into my chest like a physical force.

I thought it would fade after a good night's sleep. I thought the magic of the wedding, the nostalgia, the rush of old emotions would wash away in the light of day.

But it hadn’t.

If anything, it was stronger.

Brighter. Sharper.

Every cell in my body leaned toward him instinctively.

Derek, for his part, stood politely back, hands loose at his sides, waiting.

But I saw the way his nostrils flared slightly, the way his fingers twitched once—small betrayals of how hard he was fighting the same war inside himself.

I cleared my throat, struggling for composure.

"Derek," I said, a little breathless. "Were you here to pick up Aiden? I didn’t remember setting any—"

"No," he cut me off gently. His voice was low and careful, like he didn’t trust it to stay even otherwise.

He shifted his weight slightly, those golden eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a fresh wave of heat rushing under my skin.

"I have an odd request," he said.

I tilted my head, trying to gather my thoughts through the haze of bond-induced static clouding my brain.

"What kind of request?"

Derek stepped forward one pace, close enough that I could smell the clean, wild scent of him.

"I think you and I should go speak to the Moonstone Priestess."

I blinked.

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t even on the list.

"About last night?"

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

"May I come in?"

I hesitated for half a second longer than necessary, but then stepped aside, gesturing him into the house.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the bond between us buzzed brighter, hungrier, like a taut string plucked by unseen fingers.

I swallowed hard and started walking, leading him down the long, cool halls toward the back gardens where the path to the Moonstone Sanctuary began.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, the air between us thick with unsaid things.

Finally, I broke it.

"If you wanted spiritual guidance," I said, glancing sideways at him, "why not ask your own pack’s spiritual counselor?"

He hesitated.

I caught it—the subtle stiffening of his shoulders, the flicker of something dark across his face.

And then he spoke.

"The night of the Moonbinding," he said, voice quiet, "when I offered my token into the fire...the Moonstone Priestess said something to me."

I slowed my pace slightly, giving him room.

"What did she say?"

He was silent for a moment, like he was weighing the words carefully in his mouth before letting them go. The sunlight shifted above us, dappling the path in broken patches of gold and green. The breeze carried the scent of wild mint and damp earth, ancient and clean.

Finally, Derek looked over at me, his expression solemn.

"The Moon does not weave blindly," he said. "She ties the thread to the soul."

The words hung between us, heavy and electric, vibrating along the bond like a distant drumbeat.

I felt them slide under my skin, sinking deep into the spaces still raw from the night before.

Something about them—simple as they were—felt true in a way that made my bones ache. Nox had whispered the same thing—maybe at the same time.

"And you think that's related to what happened to us last night?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once, the movement slow and certain.

"Yes."

We walked on in silence after that.

The path twisted and narrowed, winding its way deeper into the woods behind the packhouse. The trees here grew closer together, their branches arching overhead until the sunlight fractured into long, pale beams that painted the forest floor in light and shadow.

It was beautiful out here—wild and sacred, untouched by the politics and wars that had shaped so much of our lives.

I let my fingers brush lightly against the rough bark of a passing tree, grounding myself.

For the first time, I realized exactly where we were.

The Moonstone Sanctuary wasn’t far from the old grotto.

The one where Derek and I had—

I swallowed hard, heat rushing up the back of my neck.

The memories came in an unstoppable rush: the glint of moonlight on water, the press of his hands against my skin, the way the world had fallen away until there was nothing left but us.

I knew the moment Derek recognized it too.

I didn’t have to look at him to feel it—the way his body tensed almost imperceptibly, the sudden shift in his breathing.

The bond between us flared, sharp and aching, a tether tugging taut between two souls who had once known each other in the most primal ways possible.

Neither of us spoke.

Neither of us had to.

The past was a living thing here, stitched into the rocks, the roots, the water that still sang softly somewhere beyond the trees.

It pressed against us with every step we took toward the Sanctuary, a reminder of what we had lost.

I felt the shift in him—the tightening of his body, the sudden spike of awareness in the bond.

Neither of us said a word. There was nothing that needed saying.

Some things lingered no matter how many deeply you tried to bury them.

We kept walking.

The sanctuary rose ahead of us, a small, ancient structure of pale stone tucked into a clearing beside the sacred spring.

The spring itself glittered inside the walls, a sliver of silver water coiled through mossy rocks, sparking swaying reflections on the outer wall. The faintest scent of wild mint drifted on the breeze.

As we approached the heavy wooden door of the sanctuary, it creaked open before we could even knock.

The Priestess stood framed in the doorway, her silver robes shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

Her face was serene, but her eyes were bright with something sharper. Knowledge.

Expectation.

"I’ve been expecting you," she said simply.