Chapter 38

DEREK

Brock didn’t say a word when he walked into my office. He didn’t have to. The envelope in his hand was enough.

“Is that it?” I asked.

He nodded and laid it gently on the desk between us. A plain white envelope. No return address. No markings. Just my name scrawled across the front in blocky, deliberate handwriting.

I’d already read the contents twice, but I opened it again anyway, as if the third time might offer something new.

If you want to know what happened to Elena, perhaps you should look at your own pack.

That was all it said.

But the weight of it—of the possibility behind it—pressed down like a boulder on my chest.

“Do you think it’s true?” Brock asked, his voice low. “You think what happened to Mia—Elena—had something to do with Silverclaw?”

I stared at the note, the sharp edges of the paper biting into my fingertips. “I don’t know. But I’m damn sure going to find out.”

Brock nodded. “I’ve already checked with the front gate. No one saw who dropped it off.”

“Then we start inside,” I said. “Paper stock. Ink. Pen stroke pattern. Get a handwriting analyst. Run the fibers through our forensics team. Trace everything. Every damn detail.”

“Copy that.”

“Spare no expense,” I added, turning to face him fully. “I want answers.”

Brock didn’t flinch. “You’ll have them.”

He left without another word. That’s what I liked about Brock—he didn’t ask unnecessary questions.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the note. I turned it over again and again, like it might open itself up if I just looked hard enough.

A threat? A warning? Or a clue?

The silence of the office closed in around me. I should’ve been running numbers, looking over strategy for the Alliance Summit. There were deadlines, updates, political tightropes to walk. But my thoughts kept drifting—dragging me backwards.

To her.

To Mia.

Only she wasn’t Mia. Not really. And maybe that was the problem.

Elena. Her real name. Her real self. And she wasn’t the same woman whose empty casket I’d buried all those years ago.

Mia had been soft-spoken. She never challenged me in front of others. She let me make the decisions, and if she disagreed, she never said so. She was careful, controlled. She moved like a shadow through my world—never drawing too much attention, never giving too much away. Except when we were alone.

When we were alone… she was different. Laughing and impulsive, always teasing. She’d been warm, affectionate in private, and there were moments—brief ones—when I’d glimpsed the fire beneath her skin. Moments when she stopped being Mia and started being something more.

And now I knew why.

She wasn’t born to be silent. She wasn’t a shadow.

She was an Alpha’s daughter. Moonstone royalty. Elena wasn’t just stronger than Mia had ever been—she was sharper, more confident. She didn’t look to me for permission. She didn’t ask for my protection.

She didn’t need it.

Had she ever needed it? Had I smothered her? Tried to turn her into something smaller, something easier to control?

I ran a hand through my hair and cursed under my breath.

It didn’t matter. Not right now. Because someone—someone from Silverclaw—might have tried to kill her. Not just hurt her. Not just scare her.

Kill her.

And if that was true, then the rot wasn’t on the outside.

It was here. At home. In the walls I trusted. In the warriors I trained. In the people who swore loyalty to my name, to my bloodline.

I couldn’t sit around waiting for answers. I needed to do something.

Which was why I found myself in the back seat of an unmarked SUV, riding shotgun through a stretch of dense forest just outside our borders. The road to Moonstone wasn’t long, but it was winding—cut through steep hills, wide pine groves, and the occasional abandoned watchtower left over from the last border war.

My jaw clenched every time we passed one. Some of them still bore Silverclaw’s crest, long since weathered by time and moss.

The air outside the SUV was thick with the scent of summer rain, the kind that hadn’t broken yet. The kind that hung in the air like tension before a fight. It matched my mood.

I stared out the window, watching the trees blur past as the vehicle climbed the last ridge. With every mile, the plan sharpened in my mind. Elena’s father had rejected my proposal to meet before the Alliance Summit.

Mason hadn’t even bothered to respond. But a face-to-face meeting couldn’t be ignored so easily. Maybe I could appeal to their sense of strategy, unity, shared survival.

And if that failed?

I’d see Elena.

As we crested the final hill, the terrain began to change. Moonstone territory was cleaner, more orderly—each tree trimmed back to the edge of the road, each light post standing at attention like soldiers on patrol. Even the pavement was newer, smoother. Strategic, well-maintained. A statement.

We reached the first checkpoint a few minutes later. The Moonstone border loomed ahead like something out of a dystopian novel. In the last few months, they’d fortified their defenses and secured their border.

High fences crowned with barbed coils. Automated gates. Thermal scanners. Mounted cameras rotating on metal arms.

And guards—at least a dozen of them. Most in uniform. A few in wolf form, pacing behind the perimeter like shadows.

The car slowed as we approached. The tension in the car thickened, even though my driver didn’t say a word. He reached for the switch and rolled the window down, the scent of pine and ozone sweeping in like a wave.

“Alpha Derek of Silverclaw,” he said evenly, “here to speak with—”

Before he could finish, a guard stepped forward.

“No entry. You don’t have an appointment with the Alpha, and Mason is unavailable.”

I leaned forward, resting an arm across the back of the driver’s seat. “I’m not here to talk to Mason.”

The guard’s eyes flicked to me. “Then who are you here for?”

“The Alpha. If he isn’t available…Elena.”

A pause. “Princess Elena is unavailable as well.”

So. She was well protected from everything. And everyone. Even me.

My jaw tightened. “Let me guess. Also doesn’t have time for unannounced visits.”

The young warrior’s leather gloves creaked as he wrapped his hand more tightly around his weapon. The walkie talkie on his belt gave a crackle.

“No, Alpha,” he said politely. “She’s just under strict orders not to engage with anyone from Silverclaw without clearance.”

I stared at the young guard, sizing him up. Too young to be more than a pawn, but too confident not to be a trained soldier. His orders were real.

A day ago, I would have thought that those orders were meant to protect her from me, and me alone. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe they were right to protect her from my pack.

My driver shifted uncomfortably.

“Very well,” I said at last, my voice flat. “We’ll turn around.”

The guard waved us off without another word.

We pulled a slow U-turn, the car crawling forward, tension stretching out in every direction.

That’s when I saw him.

Logan.

He stepped out of the guardhouse casually, holding a cup of coffee like he had all the time in the world. His white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, tan skin tanned from summer patrols. He looked like the picture of Moonstone perfection. Even if he wasn’t Moonstone.

And he was smirking.

Not at the driver. Not at the situation.

At me. Our eyes locked through the window. His smirk widened.

It was smug. Confident. Like he knew something I didn’t. Like he’d won.

I didn’t look away. I refused. But I could feel my fingers curl into fists.

There were rules. Politics. Fragile threads we all had to pretend we cared about. But if there hadn’t been… If I’d been in my wolf form…

Erebus would’ve lunged.

The car pulled back onto the road, and I sat in silence.

I wasn’t stupid. Logan knew exactly when I’d show up. He’d made sure I saw him. And he’d made damn sure I couldn’t get past those gates.

This wasn’t about courtesy anymore.

It was war.