Chapter 75

"Giana will be occupied with her honor ceremony preparations for at least six hours," I said, reviewing the schedule I'd obtained from Raymond's assistant. "It's the perfect opportunity to check Marcus's hunting lodge."

The preparations for Giana's ceremony had consumed the pack's attention for days. As the soon-to-be officially recognized Delta, she had insisted on elaborate rituals that kept everyone—especially Raymond—too busy to notice our movements.

Kane studied the schedule, his tactical mind assessing potential risks. "Security will be focused on the main ceremonial grounds. Even her personal guards have been reassigned to oversee decorations."

"If Marcus suspected he was being poisoned, he might have kept evidence there," Kane nodded thoughtfully. "It was his private retreat."

"He mentioned consulting old records," I added, recalling his letter. "The lodge housed his personal collection of pack histories and journals going back generations."

We planned our departure carefully, ensuring we wouldn't be missed during the preparations. I arranged to have my Luna assistant handle my ceremonial duties, citing a headache that required rest—a common occurrence since my injuries that no one would question.

The drive provided rare time alone, without the constant need to watch for prying eyes. The forest road wound through territory I'd known since childhood, memories of happier times surfacing unexpectedly.

"I came here often with Marcus and Elena when I was young," I said, breaking the comfortable silence. "While Raymond trained with the warriors, Marcus would teach me about pack history. He said I had a natural understanding of the old ways."

Kane smiled, genuine rather than practiced. "He spoke of your intuitive grasp of ritual. It was one of the first things he mentioned when we discussed you."

"You discussed me with Marcus?" I asked, surprised.

Kane's expression grew slightly embarrassed. "More than you might imagine."

The revelation piqued my curiosity. "Tell me more about your parents," I prompted as the landscape scrolled by. "You rarely mention them."

Kane was silent for so long I thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice carried deep emotion.

"They were killed by rogues when I was fourteen," he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "It wasn't random. My father had uncovered information about rogue infiltration in several major packs. They were targeted specifically to silence him."

The pain in his voice, still raw despite the years, made my heart ache for him.

"After that, I promised myself I'd never be vulnerable again. Never let anyone close enough to hurt me if I lost them."

"So the playboy persona..." I began, understanding dawning.

"A convenient shield," he admitted. "If you never let anyone see the real you, you never risk genuine rejection or loss."

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "The Alpha King took me in afterward, trained me personally. I learned to use the mask as a tool—people reveal more to someone they underestimate."

The candid confession touched something deep within me. "My father used my mother's illness to control me my entire life," I shared in return. "I learned to hide my true feelings behind a perfect Luna mask."

Kane glanced at me, something warm in his gaze. "We've both worn masks for so long, sometimes I wonder if we recognize ourselves without them anymore."

The silver crescent on my neck warmed at his words.

"With you, I don't feel the need to pretend," I admitted quietly. "It's terrifying and freeing at the same time."

Kane reached across the console, his hand finding mine with natural ease. "I know exactly what you mean."

We fell into comfortable silence for the remainder of the journey, the connection between us deepening without need for words.

Marcus's hunting lodge stood nestled among ancient pines, untouched since his death. The rustic structure had been built by Marcus's grandfather, its weathered logs bearing witness to generations of Alpha leadership.

"Someone's been here," Kane observed immediately, pointing to disturbed leaves and faint footprints. "Recently. Within the last day or two."

Kane insisted on circling the perimeter before we entered, checking for traps or surveillance. His training was evident in the methodical way he assessed potential threats.

Inside, we found evidence of a hasty search—drawers partially closed, items slightly displaced. Books had been pulled from shelves and carelessly restacked, cushions left askew.

"They were looking for something specific," Kane observed. "But they didn't know what they were looking for."

"Or where to look," I added, moving confidently through the space where I'd spent countless summer days as a child. "Marcus had hiding places most people wouldn't think to check."

The memories guided me through the lodge with certainty—summers spent exploring while Raymond trained, Marcus indulging my curiosity about pack history. This place held a piece of my childhood that even Giana's poison couldn't taint.

Kane watched me with undisguised admiration as I knelt before the stone hearth, pressing a specific sequence of decorative tiles. "You continue to surprise me at every turn," he said softly.

The hidden compartment revealed itself with a soft click, containing a leather-bound journal and several vials of liquid. Marcus had documented his growing suspicions about Giana in meticulous detail.

"He was testing the tea," I realized, carefully examining the vials. "Collecting samples over time to document the poisoning."

Kane flipped through the journal, his expression darkening. "He suspected Giana wasn't acting alone. There are references to someone he calls 'the puppetmaster' who he believed was controlling her actions."

"The Patron," I whispered, recalling the correspondence we'd found in Lydia's cabin. "The same person mentioned in those letters."

As we examined the evidence, Kane suddenly tensed. "We're being watched," he whispered.

I followed his gaze to the window, catching a glimpse of movement among the trees. With practiced ease, he created a diversion while I secured the most critical items. The protective instinct that surged through him was visible as he positioned himself between me and potential danger.

When Raymond's guard appeared at the door claiming to be "just patrolling," Kane immediately shifted into his carefree playboy persona.

"Ah, caught us!" he exclaimed with a lazy grin. "I was just showing Aurora some of Marcus's famous hunting trophies. Fascinating stuff, really."

The transformation was remarkable—his body language shifting from alert predator to casual charm in an instant.

"Alpha Raymond wanted the lodge secured," the guard said suspiciously. "No one's supposed to be here."

Kane slung an arm around the guard's shoulder, steering him toward a mounted elk head. "Can you believe Marcus took this down with a single arrow? The man was a legend."

I watched in amazement as the guard's suspicion melted under Kane's practiced charm. Only now did I fully understand this side of Kane—not merely a personality flaw as I'd once thought, but a carefully constructed mask he wore as protection.

By the time we left, the guard was helping carry "selected items" to our vehicle, completely forgetting his original suspicion.

Back at pack territory, we discovered Raymond had promoted several of Giana's supporters to key security positions. My Luna quarters now had "guards" who reported my every movement.

During a council meeting, Raymond announced an official investigation into Lydia's disappearance. He promised to uncover the truth about the situation and her involvement in his father’s medical care and death. As he spoke, I noticed moments when Raymond seemed to struggle against Giana's influence—brief flashes of doubt before the familiar fog descended again.

These glimpses stirred complicated emotions—not love, but compassion for someone who, like me, had been manipulated for others' purposes.

Later, Kane and I reviewed our findings in my private quarters, the intimate setting highlighting the growing tension between us. The silver crescent seemed to pulse with warmth as we worked side by side, our shoulders occasionally touching as we examined Marcus's journal.

"When this is over..." Kane began, then hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain as he looked at me.

I met his gaze steadily, feeling the silver crescent warm against my skin. "When this is over, we'll finally have time to understand what this means," I said, touching the mark on my neck.

The unspoken promise hung between us, a future neither of us had anticipated but both increasingly wanted to explore.