Chapter 57

ELENA

The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still bruised, heavy with the kind of gray that never really lifted. Damp air clung to the stone paths of Moonstone like a second skin, the scent of wet pine and distant smoke threading through the quiet.

I stood near the edge of the terrace, the estate stretching behind me, its windows reflecting a fractured morning. Storms had come and gone—political and otherwise—but the ache in my chest remained.

We’d survived the summit, barely. But something in the air told me the real storm hadn’t even started.

There was a brief knock behind me and I turned to find my father’s Gamma standing there expectantly, his ever-present tablet held tightly in his hand.

“Your father said you had some instruction for me?” he said.

I took one more look out at our lands and sighed, coming back inside while Chad fell into step behind me.

“Yes,” I said, heading down toward the front of the house where I’d seen Aiden earlier in the day. “New security measures.”

His eyebrows raised, but he brought the tablet up, ready to execute whatever order I might give him.

“We need to triple the patrols,” I finally said. “Rotate shifts tighter. No blind spots at the perimeter, I don’t care how quiet it’s been.”

Gamma Chad typed quickly, his jaw working behind a tight frown. “Any reason for the increase?” he asked, scribbling notes on the tablet he carried. “Did we have a threat?”

“We had a warning.”

His eyes flicked up from the screen. “Do I want to know more?”

“No,” I said flatly, then softened. “Not yet. Just… keep everyone on alert. Quietly. I don’t want panic. But I won’t be caught off guard.”

That damn note. Six words, scrawled in jagged handwriting and slid beneath my door like a ghost had done it: Moonstone is next. I hadn’t slept since.

Chad gave a low grunt. “You think it’s credible?”

“I think we’d be idiots not to treat it like it is.”

We were near the main entrance to the house when I heard the buzz of the gate intercom. Chad moved over to take a look. I saw Chad’s brows lift.

“Elena,” he said, lifting his chin toward the monitor near the door. “It’s Derek. He’s at the gate.”

I blinked. “Did he give a reason why?”

“No. Just that he needs to speak with you.”

My instinct was to say no. Slap the red button and send him back the way he came.

But we weren’t living on instinct anymore. We were building alliances now—fragile ones held together by press conferences, handshake treaties, and too many people watching.

And whether or not I wanted to see him... I’d rather face him as a potential ally than fuel the fire of whatever division our enemies were hoping to exploit.

“Let him through.”

Chad nodded once and gave instruction to the gate guards.

I was halfway across the foyer when I heard voices. Two of them. One deeper, amused. The other—

“You’re seriously gonna wear dress shoes to play basketball?” Aiden’s voice, casual, teasing.

“I wore a suit to a rogue attack,” Derek answered dryly. “I think I can manage a jump shot in loafers.”

Aiden snorted as they came around the corner, already laughing. My son was in his worn gray hoodie, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, his wild curls bouncing as he moved. Derek had a hand in his pocket, the other gesturing as he mimicked some kind of ridiculous basketball maneuver.

The moment they saw me, Aiden lit up.

“Mom,” he said. “Guess who’s going to get dunked on after this important grown-up chat?”

I arched a brow. “He knows that if you play like you clean your room, he’s got no chance, right?”

Derek smirked. “I’ve been warned.”

Aiden held out a fist for Derek to bump. “HORSE. You’re going down.”

“Done,” Derek said, knocking knuckles. “And if I can’t find you on this palatial estate—”

“You got a card or something?” Aiden asked, all bravado.

Derek chuckled, reached into his jacket, and handed him a simple black business card. “Cell number’s on the bottom.”

Aiden gave a mock salute and stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie. “You better stretch first, old man.” He gave me a quick side-hug on his way out, then disappeared around the corner, humming something off-key.

And then, the silence stretched. The warmth Derek had carried in with him cooled, like someone had opened a window neither of us could see.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said flatly, stepping back toward the main room.

“I know.” He followed, hands still in his pockets. “But I needed to talk to you. And it couldn’t wait.”

I didn’t invite him to sit. He didn’t ask.

“What is it?” I asked, standing across from him, the thick air between us pulsing with whatever was unsaid.

He hesitated, shifting his weight. Then reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper—worn, blood-smeared, and fragile at the creases.

He handed it to me without a word.

I unfolded it carefully.

The map was old—hand-drawn. But precise. Marked with notations I hadn’t seen in years.

Silverclaw territory. Old armory sites. Emergency tunnel systems. Escape routes from the last war with Moonstone.

My mouth went dry.

“This was found on a rogue,” Derek said quietly. “After the attack at the summit.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Some of these places... only a few people ever knew they existed,” he went on. “The southern tunnel? That was sealed before I even came of age. It was inner-circle access only.”

I looked up slowly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying someone gave this to them. The rogues.”

I couldn’t figure out why he was telling me. Was he trying to warn me about something, did he have someone in mind—

I pulled up short and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

I turned to him, no doubt the look on my face as incredulous as the tone of my voice.

“…You think it was me.”

“I’m not accusing you,” he said too quickly.

“You’re not denying it either.”

He exhaled, looked at the floor, then met my eyes again.

“You lived in Silverclaw. You had access. You knew me. You could have seen this. Maybe you drew it up and misplaced it, maybe it got into the wrong hands—”

My hand shook as I folded the paper again, tight and sharp, and threw it onto the table between us.

“If you want to accuse me,” I said, my voice colder than ice, “then do it. Don’t dance around it. Say the words.”

He stared at me for a long beat. “Did you give it to the rogues?”

The fury that surged through me was like nothing I’d felt since I’d stepped back onto Moonstone soil.

“How dare you,” I whispered.

“Elena—”

“No.” I took a step forward, chest rising. “You think after everything I’ve done, after I stood beside you, after I defended you to my family, my pack, the world—you think I’d do something like that?”

“I need to know.”

“You need to leave.”

“Elena—”

Nox was snarling inside me. I was half tempted to unleash her and let her take him out by the throat. Instead, I turned to him, my voice low and dangerous.

“Get out of my house,” I snapped.

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but my glare stopped him cold.

“And get out of my life.”

The look on his face was one of regret, like he was thinking about backpedaling a little, but he wasn’t sorry for what he’d accused me of. I could tell.

He reached forward and picked up the map, gingerly tucking it away.

“I—”

I held up my hand. “I don’t want you to say another word. I want you to walk through that door,” I said, pointing to the entrance, “get into your car. And never show your face here again.”

He closed his eyes and I could just hear the placating voice in his head. He thought I would calm down about this, that I would come around eventually. But after everything—after what he put me through six years ago—to accuse me of something like this now…

Intelligently, he did keep his mouth shut and made his way to the door.

“Derek,” I said, not really meaning to speak out loud. But I was so angry I lashed out with the one thing I thought might actually have some impact on him.

He turned to me expectantly.

“Stay away from my son.”

That one landed. I saw it in his eyes.

He turned, jaw clenched, and walked out without another word.

I didn’t move until I heard the door close behind him.

Only then did I let the tears come.

Not because I was heartbroken.

Because I was furious.