Chapter 69

CASSANDRA

By the time my father called, I already had my answer.

“I told you,” I said, reclining on the silk chaise in my apartment, phone pressed to my ear. “You need to stop worrying. Derek will be mine.”

A pause. Then, his voice—cool, clipped, expectant. “You sound confident.”

“I am confident.” I swirled the wine in my glass, watching the red liquid catch the light. “He’s emotionally frayed, unsure who he can trust. Elena’s presence only makes it worse. She’s chaos, not stability.”

“And you think that’s what he wants now?”

“No,” I said, smiling faintly. “It’s what he needs. I’m going to give him peace. A future.”

Even if I had to manufacture every piece of it.

I hung up before he could reply. I didn’t need his approval. I’d get what I wanted—with or without it.

By late afternoon, I was standing on the front steps of the Silverclaw packhouse. I wore something simple—strategic. Soft pink blouse. Loose hair. Just a hint of vulnerability in my expression. The picture of a woman offering comfort.

Caroline opened the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Cassandra,” she said slowly. “Did you have an appointment?”

I smiled, gentle and harmless. “I just wanted to see Derek. I thought he might be here.”

Her mouth tightened. “He’s not.”

“Oh.” I tilted my head. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

She hesitated. Something flickered behind her eyes. “I… I’m not permitted to say.”

Disappointment bloomed across my face with practiced precision. “Oh. I understand.”

She looked genuinely sorry. “If I could tell you, I would. I know you care about him.”

I reached out and touched her hand briefly. “Thank you, Caroline. I know you’re just trying to protect him.”

I turned and walked back to the car, the image of grace and patience.

I could wait. I’d been waiting a long time already.

MAGGIE

The wind had picked up, rustling through the trees like whispers in the dark.

I crouched behind a broken stone fence across the road from the cottage. The windows glowed faintly, warm and golden in the dark. Someone was still awake inside. Probably Erin. Or Carly.

I hadn’t spoken to either of them since I’d seen Carly right after the attack at the Summit. I’d meant what I said—stay away from me. From this life.

And yet here I was.

Watching.

Not knocking.

From the shadows.

I just needed to know that they were okay.

The crunch of tires on gravel caught my attention. I sank lower, barely breathing, as a sleek black car eased down the narrow path and stopped in front of the small dwelling. The engine cut off. The driver’s side door opened.

Mason Hart stepped out.

So the rumors were true.

I had suspected something between him and Erin when they were both at Moonstone—little glances, moments that lingered longer than they should have—but I hadn’t expected this.

He was risking everything just to see her.

That meant it was more than attraction.

It meant he cared. Maybe he more than cared. Could it be love, I wondered?

I should’ve left. Turned back.

But then I caught another scent.

Faint. Fresh.

Not Mason’s.

Not Erin’s or Carly’s.

Rogue.

I moved quickly, silently, circling the house at a distance until I spotted him crouched behind a cluster of trees. A kid, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with a patchy beard and eyes that gleamed too bright in the dark. He held a pair of binoculars, trained on the cottage.

I stepped out of the trees without a sound.

“You’re going to fog up those lenses if you keep panting like that.”

He spun, startled—but didn’t reach for a weapon. His expression shifted when he caught my scent.

“Oh,” he said. “Didn’t see you there. You one of us?”

I was obviously a rogue, which put him ease. For better or worse.

“Something like that.”

He grinned, cocky. “Name’s Rafe. I’ve been keeping an eye on this place. I heard Mason Hart comes out here sometimes. Alone. Looks like I was right.”

He was smiling, eager. Pleased with himself.

I said nothing, letting the silence draw him in.

He took the bait, talking faster now. “If I take him out—if I hit the Moonstone Alpha’s heir before the rest of the faction moves—they’ll have to let me in, right? I mean, I’d be doing them a favor.”

“So you want to be a part of the chaos, huh?” I asked, stepping closer to him.

“I want to belong,” he said fiercely.

Goddess, didn’t we all.

He pulled something from his belt. A silver dagger. Ornate, old. Too delicate for someone like him.

“Found this in the woods a while back,” he said. “Figured it was worth something.”

My stomach turned. That was a ceremonial pack dagger. How the hell had he gotten his hands on that? Someone had lost it.

And now this idiot had it.

I stepped closer, my tone light. “So you know the rogues who are attacking the packs?”

He stood up straighter, feeling important. “Some of them.”

“You know anything they’re planning?”

He smiled, eager to share everything he’d heard. Goddess, this kid was a disaster. Even if Pierce let him into the faction’s inner circle, he was too stupid to know when to keep his mouth shut. He’d end up dead pretty quickly.

One way or another.

“I know their next hit.”

I raised my eyebrows feigning that I was incredibly impressed.

“Some place called Lakepoint,” he said, stumbling over himself to share everything he knew. “It’s on the outer edge of Moonstone territory. Not a lot of security. They’re going to hit it before the rest of the pack can regroup.”

I nodded slowly.

Then my expression shifted.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

He blinked. “What?”

I moved faster than instinct. My hand shot out, seizing the wrist that held the dagger. I twisted hard. Bone ground against bone, and he cried out—a sharp, surprised yelp that cracked through the quiet night.

His fingers opened involuntarily, the blade clattering to the ground. He tried to pull away, but I was already behind him, one arm wrapping around his neck, the other covering his mouth.

He struggled—young and strong, but untrained.

Desperate.

I tightened my grip, my breath steady even as my heart pounded.

“Shh,” I whispered against his ear. “It’s over.”

He thrashed once more. Then he went still.

His body crumpled to the ground like a broken marionette, limbs folding in on themselves. He landed in a tangle of roots and fallen leaves, his eyes open and glassy.

I stood there a moment, staring down at him.

Just a kid.

No older than I was when I first entered the roguelands. Skinny. Cocky. Stupid in the way young wolves often were—eager to prove themselves, to be useful, to be seen. Desperate for a place at the table, even if it meant blood on their hands.

And now he was dead.

Because of me.

I exhaled, slow and shaking. My lungs felt tight, like the trees had closed in around me.

No anger. No adrenaline rush. Just that familiar, hollow drop in my gut.

I crouched beside him and closed his eyes gently with the heel of my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You picked the wrong house.”

I grabbed his ankles and started dragging the body deeper into the woods. Branches snapped beneath his weight. My arms burned. Sweat slipped down my spine. Every foot felt heavier than the last, but I didn’t stop until the trees swallowed us both.

I found a shallow dip in the earth beneath a tangle of thornbush and rolled him into it, then pulled leaves, dirt, and broken brush across the body until it was hidden.

Not buried. Just gone enough.

My hands were shaking by the time I finished.

I wiped them on my jeans and stood still in the dark, the silence pressing down like a hand on my back.

I wasn’t like the others in the faction. Not really. I didn’t want to be.

But I couldn’t go back, either. Not to Carly’s warmth or Erin’s quiet loyalty. Not to a life that could be soft.

I wasn’t soft anymore.

I had blood under my nails and shadows on my soul.

And if I didn’t keep walking this knife’s edge—if I didn’t do what needed to be done—Carly and Erin were going to get hurt.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I stepped back onto the trail, picked up the silver dagger, and wiped it clean against the inside of my jacket. Then I slid it into my belt.

The handle felt too familiar.

Like it belonged there.

I exhaled once, long and slow, and turned away from the cottage’s soft, glowing windows.

I knew where I had to go next.