Chapter 152

CASSANDRA

The numbers weren’t adding up, and Father was livid.

I sat stiffly at the table in the packhouse’s formal office, a fan of expense reports and ledgers laid out in front of me like a criminal record. My criminal record, apparently.

“You bought what?” he barked, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“A mare,” I said evenly, smoothing my palm across the crease in my blouse. “Moon-blessed. Champion lineage. For the charity auction—”

“For what auction?” he snapped, stabbing a thick finger at the figure circled in red at the bottom of the page. “You spent more on saddle fittings than we did training new warriors. Are we running a pack or a stable?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. I’d learned long ago not to take the bait too quickly.

He leaned across the table, eyes narrowed. “You think you’re going to be Luna,” he sneered. “That Derek’s finally going to come to his senses and put a crown on your pretty head. You think if you decorate the palace, the king will move in?”

My nails dug into my palms under the table. “It’s for the good of the pack.”

“It’s for your ego.”

Before I could spit a response, the office door flew open.

Both of us turned. The wind hit first—cool and sharp—and then Derek stepped into the room like the storm itself had answered my prayers.

Except he didn’t look like the man I’d spent years shaping my life around. He looked like fire made flesh. His eyes burned, jaw locked, shoulders drawn tight with something dangerous.

“Derek, my boy!” Father said, instantly switching gears, standing and smiling like a fool. “We were just going over some budgeting—”

“I need to speak with Cassandra,” Derek said, voice like stone. “Alone.”

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Father paused. The smile didn’t drop off his face so much as freeze there, brittle and forced. He looked at me. A loaded glance: what now? And then he looked back at Derek and gave a little bow.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

As he passed behind my chair, he clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. I didn’t flinch. I’d long since stopped reacting to his version of affection.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

I turned to Derek slowly, schooling my features into something soft and confused. The way I always had to with him. It had worked before.

But the way he looked at me?

I’d never seen that look in his eyes. Not even when I pushed him too far. Not even when I touched wounds he thought he’d buried.

“What have you done?” he hissed.

My stomach twisted into a knot.

He knew.

My mind scrambled—what did he know? How much? He couldn’t possibly know everything. Could he?

I weighed the possibilities. The most recent thing that might send him reeling was our attempt to sever his bond with Elena. But I couldn’t give away too much. There was too much at stake.

I took a slow, shuddering breath. The only thing to do now was to control the narrative. Get ahead of it. Make him see me as the victim. I could still spin this.

“Derek,” I started, letting my voice tremble just a little, the way I’d practiced. “I didn’t want to go along with it. It was Logan. He made me.”

His face didn’t move. No twitch, no flicker of emotion. He was just… watching.

His voice cut like a knife. “He made you what?”

I flinched. “It was all his idea,” I said quickly. I didn’t know what he knew and was hedging my bets that he’d somehow figured out about the bond-breaking spell.

His voice was sharp now. Razor-sharp.

“He made you call the rogue Maggie and arrange for Elena to be kidnapped on our wedding day?”

My stomach dropped. A rushing sound filled my ears.

My lungs forgot how to work.

Oh Moon above.

He knows.

He knows.

Panic surged through me like wildfire.

He knew. About Maggie. About Elena. About the wedding day.

I opened my mouth, but my tongue felt thick. Dry. My mind raced for something—anything—to grasp.

“Is… is that what he said?” I stammered. “Logan? Is that what he told you?”

Please say yes. Please say he sold me out. Let me blame him. Let me get out of this.

Derek’s eyes narrowed with something that might have once been pity. But now? It was pure disgust.

“He’s gone,” Derek said coldly. “Logan’s in the wind. No one’s seen him since yesterday morning.”

My breath hitched.

Gone?

The news hit like a slap—but then, just as quickly, it settled into something more useful. If Logan was gone, he couldn’t defend himself. Couldn’t contradict me.

Maybe the Goddess did still love me.

I dragged in a shaky breath, reaching for the tears I’d always kept so close to the surface.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, it was Logan. He was behind all of it.” My voice cracked beautifully. “He manipulated me, Derek. He threatened me. Said he’d tell everyone I’d been behind it all—unless I stayed quiet. Unless I helped.”

Derek’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his jaw locked tighter.

“You knew he was the money behind the rogue faction after Pierce died?” he asked, voice like frostbite.

And for a second, I froze.

Because I didn’t know that.

But maybe I could.

I blinked hard, let another tear roll down my cheek.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “He told me after… after the attack on the convoy. He said it was the only way to keep you and Elena apart. That it would all work out in the end.” I clutched my arms, as if I were cold. “He said he’d kill me if I told anyone.”

Derek’s eyes burned with something dark and coiled. Not just anger. Something ancient and cold and Alpha-deep.

I pressed forward. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“And the spell—the one that broke your bond—he said it was the only way to free you. He was obsessed. He thought Elena would come back to him if the bond was gone.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even breathe.

My voice wobbled on the edge of hysteria. “It was Logan! He made me get your blood! I only did it because you’re always donating—it was easy—I just took a vial from the clinic’s cold storage, I didn’t even—”

“Stop.”

The word was so soft it scared me more than if he’d shouted.

He turned toward me, slowly, his expression carved from stone.

“You took my blood.” The words came out like venom.

My stomach twisted violently. “He took it,” I tried again. “Gave it to the dark priestess in the Blightwood. I didn’t go. He said he’d handle it—”

Derek closed his eyes. Just for a second. Like he was holding something inside that might break the world if he let it out.

When he opened them again, I saw the man he used to be—the one who didn’t have to say anything to make you feel small. The one who looked at you and saw everything.

“Luckily,” he said, voice cold and low, “my bond with Elena is stronger than ever.”

I froze.

The blood drained from my face.

What?

That wasn’t possible. The priestess had said—

The bond will come back. With teeth.

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

Derek stepped forward, his shoulders rising with slow, deliberate force.

“And I don’t ever—” he said, voice shaking now, not from fear, but from the sheer effort it took not to snarl— “ever want to see your face again.”

And then he turned.

And walked out the door.

Just like that.

Gone.

Leaving me alone with the pieces.

With the ruin.

With what I’d done.