Chapter 54

ELENA

The scent of smoke still lingered in the hallways, clinging to the stone like a memory that wouldn’t wash clean. No matter how many air purifiers buzzed or how many cleaning crews had been rotated in and out overnight, the Summit venue still felt scorched. Haunted.

My boots echoed softly against the tiled floor as I moved down the corridor, past sections still cordoned off by caution tape, shattered windows covered in plywood. It was early—dawn maybe—but no one had been sleeping. Not really. Not since the attack.

I hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes. No time. No energy. I’d only pulled my hair into a tight braid and re-applied some powder and lipstick, because this wasn’t about comfort anymore. It was about optics. Appearances. Holding the center together.

The Alpha Council wanted unity, and unity meant showing up. Even when you hadn’t washed the dried blood from your ankles. Even when your nightmares still had fangs.

The temporary Moonstone quarters had been relocated to a quieter part of the hotel, far from the summit floor. I knocked once before pushing inside.

Mason was sitting on the edge of his cot, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes shadowed and heavy with exhaustion. He’d taken a hit to the arm last night, I’d heard, but nothing serious. A graze. Enough to slow him down, but not sideline him.

“You look like hell,” I said gently.

He snorted without looking up. “Speak for yourself.”

I shut the door behind me and crossed the room, stopping a few feet away.

We were both too tired to have the conversation I was about to jump into, but we needed to have it. It couldn’t wait.

“I need to ask you something. And I need the truth,” I said.

He tensed immediately. “Okay.”

“Your mate,” I said. “Is she involved in this?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I continued before he could speak. “Rogues attacked the Alliance Summit. That means every relationship, every bond, every whisper of connection to the outside world is on the table now.”

He looked away, but I pressed on. “You’ve been secretive. You've been absent. So I need to know—did she have anything to do with this?”

He rose to his feet, his expression thunderous—but not defensive. Protective.

“No,” he said. “Absolutely not.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I know her. And I trust her.”

“That’s not good enough, Mason.”

“It’s going to have to be,” he shot back. “Because I’m not giving you her name. Not yet.”

The air between us bristled, sharp with old sibling hierarchies. We were both breathing hard, both too tired for this fight.

“She could’ve been killed last night,” he said, his voice dropping. “I could have lost her. So don’t you dare stand there and accuse her of something she had nothing to do with.”

I held his gaze for a long time, then nodded once. “Fine.”

He gathered his jacket from the back of a chair and moved past me toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Out.”

I didn’t stop him. But I watched him go.

---

Back in my room, the silence pressed around me like a second skin.

The desk near the window was covered in papers—incident reports, strategy notes, an open laptop blinking with incoming emails. But one envelope caught my eye. Thick parchment. Ornate crest.

I opened it slowly and read the contents.

A formal invitation to the signing of the Alliance Treaty, scheduled for tomorrow morning. A symbolic ceremony. A photo opportunity. A chance to show unity.

I scanned the names.

Moonstone: Princess Elena

Silverclaw: Alpha Derek

My name. His. Side by side.

Of course.

I didn’t have the energy to be annoyed.

I placed the letter down beside the others, and walked to the window.

Below, the summit grounds were slowly being pieced back together. Broken walls being patched. Burn marks scrubbed. The stage for the signing already half-built.

As if a few flowers and a press photographer could make people forget the smell of blood in the air.

MAGGIE

The outpost lay quiet beneath the bruised haze of late afternoon, tucked between the husks of two dead pine trees and the low roll of forgotten hills.

The Roguelands stretched wide and lawless in every direction, but this place—this little pocket of ruin—had been ours. A nowhere place, halfway between exile and obscurity, so far from the power struggles that most wolves didn’t bother looking for us out here.

Which was the point.

A thin ribbon of smoke curled from the chimney. The wind carried the dry scent of old wood, ash, and the last stubborn remnants of wild lilac. It wasn’t home, not really. But it was quiet. And quiet was rare these days.

I was crouched on the edge of the ravine behind the house, sharpening a blade that I didn’t need. The rhythm of it kept me focused—scrape, turn, scrape, breathe. It was the only thing lately that slowed the spin in my head.

So when I heard her voice behind me, it snapped like a twig underfoot.

“There you are,” Carly said, exasperated but soft. “You disappeared again.”

I didn’t look up. Didn’t pause the blade.

“I needed space.”

“You always say that. Then you vanish for days.”

I exhaled and stood slowly, turning to face her. The wind tugged at the hem of her jacket—one of Erin’s, too big in the shoulders. Her hair was knotted back with one of those cheap cloth ribbons she always found and insisted on keeping, no matter how frayed.

She looked small. And tired. But her worry was the loudest thing about her.

“Where’s Erin?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t far away.

Carly looked down. “She’ll be back soon.”

“I told you to stay put,” I said. “Both of you.”

“Yeah,” she shot back. “You also told us this place was safe.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you acting like the floor’s about to fall out from under us?”

Because maybe it was.

She stepped closer, scanning me. “I was worried sick. You disappeared the night of the attack. I thought maybe you’d been caught in the blast.”

I went still.

So she’d heard. Of course she had. The rogue faction might be fighting miles from here, but news traveled faster than smoke. Especially when it came with fire.

“You and Erin both need to stay away from me,” I said, the words cold and measured.

Carly blinked. “What? Why?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Maggie—” Her voice faltered, shifting from confusion to fear. “You aren’t... You aren’t involved in this, are you? In the attacks?”

I didn’t answer.

She kept going, more desperate now. “We promised. After everything. We promised we were done with that life. That we weren’t going back to it.”

Still, I said nothing.

Carly’s eyes narrowed slightly. “This is about her, isn’t it? About Elena. You got angry when she left. When she found her mate. You disappeared then, too.”

My silence wrapped tighter around me like a chain.

Carly stepped back. Just one step, but it felt like more.

“You said she mattered to you,” she whispered. “You said you saved her.”

“I did,” I said. My voice cracked. “And it still wasn’t enough.”

She frowned. “Then what are you doing?”

I didn’t answer.

Because how could I explain what I had done? What I was preparing to do? How could I tell her that the quiet we had built here was already cracking beneath the weight of what was coming?

That I had stepped too close to the fire this time, and I didn’t know if I’d get back out?

If she knew what I’d done—if either of them knew—they’d never look at me the same way again.

They deserved peace.

“You didn’t see what I saw,” I said finally, stepping closer, lowering my voice so the wind wouldn’t carry it. “You don’t know the truth. About any of them.”

Carly’s brow furrowed. “Then tell me.”

I reached out, touched her arm gently. She flinched, just a little.

But I didn’t answer.

Instead, I turned.

And walked back into the trees.