Chapter 4

The morning of my departure, I carried my single bag down the main staircase.

Mira was waiting in the entrance hall. So were Caelan and Ronan.

"Elara." Mira's voice trembled. "Before you go, there's something you should know."

She was holding a leather folder. Pack documents—I recognized the seal.

"I was organizing the archive this morning, and I noticed some files were missing." She clutched the folder to her chest. "Border patrol routes. Military positioning maps. The kind of information that would be... valuable to outside parties."

Caelan's expression hardened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not saying anything." Mira's eyes darted to me, then away. "I just thought it was strange timing. With Elara leaving for the vampire territory today..."

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

Ronan stepped forward. "Elara. Did you take those documents?"

"No."

"She's been the external liaison for five years," Mira said softly. "She had access to everything. And now she's going to live with the Dravens..." She bit her lip. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I shouldn't have said anything."

Caelan grabbed my bag and dumped its contents on the floor. Clothes. A few toiletries. Nothing else.

"Where are they?" His voice was cold.

"I didn't take anything."

"You expect us to believe that?" He kicked through my belongings. "You've been planning this for weeks. Cozying up to the vampires, feeding them information—"

"I never contacted them. Mother arranged everything."

"Convenient." Ronan's jaw was tight. "Blame Mother."

I stared at him. This was the boy who'd stayed up three nights when I had the flu. Who'd made me honey cakes and called me his little star.

Now he was looking at me like I was the enemy.

"Eighteen years." My voice came out quiet. "I've lived here eighteen years. When have I ever betrayed this pack?"

"People change," Caelan said. "Especially when they're angry. When they feel wronged." He spat the word like it disgusted him.

"So this is revenge?" Mira's hand flew to her mouth. "Because of me? Elara, I never meant to take your place—"

"Enough."

Helena's voice cut through the hall like a blade.

She stood at the top of the stairs, still in her morning robe. I had never seen her so angry.

"Mother—" Caelan started.

"I said enough." She descended the stairs slowly, each step deliberate. "I've been listening to this farce for five minutes, and I've heard enough."

She stopped in front of Mira. "Those documents you claim are missing. Did you check the archive room on the third floor?"

Mira blinked. "I... I checked the main archive—"

"The military files were moved to the third floor two weeks ago. For reorganization." Helena's voice was flat. "Something you would know if you'd actually read the transition notes before taking over as liaison."

The color drained from Mira's face.

Helena turned to her sons. "Nothing is missing. Nothing was leaked. You two just accused your sister of treason based on the word of a girl who can't even find files in her own office."

Caelan opened his mouth. Helena silenced him with a look.

"Eighteen years." Her voice shook with barely contained fury. "She has lived in this house for eighteen years. She learned to walk in that courtyard. She had her first birthday party in this hall. She has worked for this pack, bled for this pack, loved you both with everything she had."

She pointed at the clothes scattered on the floor.

"And this is how you repay her? Dumping her belongings on the ground? Calling her a traitor?" Her eyes were wet now. "Where were you when she collapsed at the ceremony? Where were you when her room was taken, her job was taken, her memories were thrown in the trash?"

Neither of them answered.

"You were with her." Helena looked at Mira with something close to contempt. "Every single time, you chose her. And now Elara is leaving—the girl I raised as my own daughter is walking out that door—and your final gift to her is an accusation of betrayal."

Silence.

I bent down and began gathering my scattered clothes. My hands were steady. I didn't know how.

"Elara." Helena's voice softened. "You don't have to—"

"It's fine, Mother." I stuffed the last shirt into my bag and stood. "I expected nothing less."

I looked at Caelan and Ronan one last time. They couldn't meet my eyes.

"Thank you," I said to Helena. "For everything. For eighteen years of being my mother when you didn't have to be."

She pulled me into a hug. I felt her tears on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make them see."

"It's not your fault." I pulled back and managed a small smile. "Some people don't want to see."

I picked up my bag and walked toward the door.

"Elara, wait—" Ronan's voice cracked.

I didn't turn around.

The morning air was cold and clean. A black carriage waited at the edge of pack territory, the Draven family crest gleaming on its door.

I walked toward it without looking back.

Behind me, I heard Caelan say something to Ronan. I didn't catch the words. I didn't need to.

The carriage door opened. A servant in Draven livery offered his hand to help me inside.

Through the window, I watched the Thorne pack lands shrink into the distance—the forests where I'd played as a child, the towers where I'd dreamed of belonging, the home that had never really been mine.

I didn't cry.

I was done crying for people who had already forgotten me.