Chapter 165
DEREK
The phone clicked as the line disconnected.
I sat back in my chair, staring at nothing for a beat. That had been the fifth call this morning—same story as the others. A smiling denial, a deflection, or worse: radio silence. All tied to the Rogue Foundation permits.
You’d think someone was purposely trying to stall Elena’s progress.
Which wouldn’t be surprising. There were plenty of old-guard wolves who didn’t want rogue rehabilitation to succeed. But still—it made me wonder who was behind the delays. Who had something to gain.
And why I was only now realizing how far out of the loop I’d fallen.
I mean, I knew I wasn’t officially part of the Foundation. But if I could smooth the way for her, I’d at least feel like I wasn’t standing in it.
I wasn’t sure if she’d welcome my help, so I did it on my own. Quietly.
I scrubbed a hand across my face.
The door opened behind me.
Joe stepped in, holding a folder, but I already knew the look on his face meant it wasn’t good.
“She called again,” he said.
I didn’t answer. Just waited.
“Twice this time. Left a message with Caroline. Asked for a sit-down.”
“No,” I said, voice flat. “I’ve already made myself clear.”
“She said it’s urgent.”
“It’s never urgent. It’s Cassandra.”
Joe nodded, dropping the folder on my desk. “So I’ll let her know you’re not interested.”
“Let her know she should stop trying to reach me entirely.”
Joe paused. “You sure you don’t even want to hear her out? It’s been months, and—”
“Under no circumstances do I want to see Cassandra Laurent.”
Joe raised both eyebrows but didn’t argue. “Got it.”
I waited until the door clicked shut again before standing and walking over to the window. The courtyard below was quiet, dew still clinging to the grass, the early morning light slanting across the eastern wall. A few young wolves were gathering for training.
I used to love mornings like this. The crisp air. The simplicity of routine. But now everything felt… off. Like the rhythm of my life had shifted and I was the only one still playing the old tune.
She showed up anyway.
I was halfway through breakfast, coffee in hand, plate still warm, when I caught the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the tile.
Then that voice.
“Derek.”
I didn’t even look up. “Caroline,” I growled.
“I—I’m sorry, sir. She insisted.”
I raised my head then and saw Cassandra walking into the dining hall like she owned the place.
Black coat. Black dress. Hair in a sleek chignon. Effortless elegance, calculated to the last detail.
“You’re not welcome here,” I said.
She didn’t stop. “You look well.”
“Get out.”
She finally came to a halt at the end of the table. “I didn’t come to fight.”
“Then leave.”
She glanced toward Caroline, who hovered nervously near the doorway. “Could we have a moment?”
“I’d prefer we didn’t.”
Cassandra’s smile didn’t falter, but something in her eyes sharpened. “You owe me five minutes.”
I stood. “I owe you nothing.”
She met my gaze evenly. “You may not have made me a blood oath all those years ago, but you do owe me an audience.”
My jaw clenched. “You’re really dragging that out again?”
“I saved your life.”
I said nothing.
“I saved you,” she pressed. “I carried you home. You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t found you that day.”
She was right. But I still wasn’t happy to see her. And I wasn’t happy with Caroline for breaking a direct order not to let that woman within a mile of my packhouse.
My grip tightened around my mug. “Why are you here, Cassandra?”
She straightened her coat. “I have a business proposal. Nothing personal. Just one hour of your time. I’ll say what I need to say, and then I’ll leave you alone.”
My eyes narrowed.
She must have seen hesitation in my face, because she softened. “Just dinner. One meal, Derek. You listen, and then I’m gone.”
I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t want to reward her persistence. But some part of me needed to know what she was really after.
“One dinner,” I said finally. “One.”
She smiled, sharp and polished. “I’ll make the reservation.”
Dinner was at one of the old high-end places in the Silverclaw business district. Not the kind of restaurant you pick at random. The kind with leather booths, linen napkins, and too many forks.
I picked the farthest booth, my back to the wall. I didn’t want surprises.
Cassandra arrived late, of course. Never more than five minutes—just enough to draw attention.
She wore a slate-gray sheath dress and gold jewelry. Hair down this time, loose and shining like it had been combed strand by strand.
She slid into the booth beside me, not across.
I didn’t move. “Really?”
“Old habits,” she said, brushing imaginary lint from her skirt.
The waiter came and she ordered a bottle of wine before I could speak. I didn’t argue. No point.
Once the server was gone, she leaned in, placing her hand lightly on my arm.
“Okay,” I said, pulling back slightly. “What’s the proposal?”
Her lips curved. “Think of it as an offer.”
CASSANDRA
Twenty years ago
I’d gotten the dagger three days earlier.
Polished silver. Slim and beautiful. Father had it made special—etched with protective runes along the hilt. “You’re not a child anymore,” he’d said. “You should know what it feels like to wield something deadly.”
It had felt… elegant. Powerful. Like a secret only I understood.
The forest that day was cool and sun-dappled. I moved with the knife in hand, admiring the way the light danced across the blade.
That’s when the rogue stepped out of the trees.
Thin. Hollow-eyed. Like someone carved from hunger and smoke.
“Pretty blade,” he said. “Can I have it?”
I froze.
“It’s not for sale,” I replied.
Another shape emerged behind him. Then a third.
The first man smiled, slow and sad. “Didn’t ask if it was.”
He stepped forward and my hand tightened on the dagger.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said. “I’m the daughter of the Alpha of the Eastern Ridge Pack.”
One of the rogues laughed. “You think that name means something out here?”
The leader looked tired. “We’re not trying to hurt you. We’re just hungry. That dagger could feed us for two weeks.”
I should have turned and run.
Instead, I lifted the blade.
“Then take it from me,” I said.
They did.
Quick. Efficient.
One grabbed my wrist, another caught my shoulder. The blade turned in my hand and slashed across my own skin. I cried out, falling back into the dirt.
I hit the forest floor hard, the wind knocked from my lungs.
Blood soaked into the sleeve of my coat, bright and hot where the blade had nicked my arm. My pulse throbbed against the fabric as I curled inward, cradling the wound, the silver sting still fresh and sharp. The world had gone suddenly quiet—just my breath and the rustle of movement as the rogues rifled through the satchel one of them carried.
The lead rogue tucked the dagger away with almost reverent care. His eyes, flat and yellowed at the edges, flicked to me only once before he turned away.
I tried not to shake. Tried not to cry. But fear crackled through me, icy and electric. I had never been in real danger before. Not like this. Not where no one could see or save me. I pressed my sleeve tighter to the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
That was when I heard it.
Shouts. Somewhere deeper in the woods.
Teenagers. Laughter.
“Come on, Derek! Catch up!”
The sound struck like lightning.
All three rogues froze.
I lifted my head slowly. The voices drifted through the trees again, teasing and breathless.
A group of boys. Maybe six or seven of them, judging by the scattered voices.
The rogues turned toward the sound.
Then the lead one lifted his head and inhaled.
His whole posture changed. Alert. Focused.
A slow, chilling grin spread across his face.
“Come on, boys,” he said, eyes gleaming with something dark and hungry. “I smell a prince.”
