Chapter 8

Hidden Secrets

The pack was on edge from the battle's aftermath. Even though they had won, the rogues had made it clear that they had no intention of giving up. Tension hovered in the air like a storm waiting to break, yet the warriors intensified their efforts and strengthened defences.

Lena had a nagging suspicion that things was not quite right. Although the rogues had launched a fierce onslaught, their withdrawal was too well-managed. They had a leader who understood strategy, so they were not just dumb brutes.

That implied that they will return.

She trained the scouting teams over the course of the following few days, teaching them how to move covertly and identify threats before they materialised. She was aware that some of them still had doubts about her, but she did not give a damn. It was one thing to prove herself to Damian, but quite another to prove herself to them.

But Jace seems to have grown fond of her. He even sparred with her during training sessions and showed her something approaching respect after their altercation.

One afternoon, as they circled one another with blades in hand, he asked, "You ever think about what you will do when this is over?"

Lena easily sidestepped his blow. "I do not believe this will ever end."

Jace gave a quick exhale. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."

Lena was familiar with the emotion. The effects of this conflict would endure even if they prevailed and drove the outlaws permanently. She had been running for too long to think that things would be simple.

She had trouble sleeping that night. As she lay on her cot, she listened to the camp's soft murmurs while gazing up at the wooden ceiling. She became tense at every whisper and groan. There was a problem. It was palpable in her bones.

At last, she stopped attempting to sleep and put on her boots. When she went outside, the moon shone on the clearing, and the air was fresh. With their silhouettes scarcely discernible in the darkness, warriors patrolled the perimeter.

Attracted by the forest's edge, she headed for the northern watchtower. She could not quite hear the whispers that the trees whispered as they moved softly in the night breeze.

Then she noticed a shadow moving from one trunk to another.

Lena stiffened. There was a spectator.

She did not make an assistance call. Rather, she trailed after, disappearing like a phantom into the wilderness. It was a subtle yet distinct smell. An outlaw. But behind it, there was another—familiar—thing.

A long-buried recollection awoke. As she drew nearer, her breath stuck in her throat.

Lena froze as the figure turned.

"Hi, younger sister."

Her heart almost stopped. "No," she said in a whisper.

The towering man in front of her had black eyes that gleamed in the moonlight. There was no mistaking him, albeit his face was older than she remembered.

Kieran was the one.

Her sibling.

Lena's thoughts were racing. Kieran was dead, of course he was. Years before, she had witnessed him fall in combat. However, he was standing among the enemies, still very much alive.

He tried to move forward, but she resisted. "You should be dead by now."

He grinned. "I could say that about you, too."

She gripped her dagger more tightly. "Why are you in this place?"

He said, "I came to warn you." "Lena, you are in over your head. Damian is not who you believe him to be.

Her laughter was sour. "And I guess the good guys are the rogues?"

Kieran's face grew serious. "The whole story is unknown to you."

"I am sufficiently knowledgeable."

"Do you?" He cocked his head. "Did he explain to you our parents' true situation?"

Lena gasped for air. "What?"

Lowering his voice, Kieran took a step closer. "Damian did more than simply murder our dad. He killed him.

The earth swayed under her feet. "You are telling lies."

Kieran's eyes remained fixed. "I wish I was."

Lena's thinking begged her to turn and flee and to seek for assistance. She stood motionless, however, caught between the past and the present.

Kieran whispered, "Lena, you have a choice." "Avoid making the incorrect one."

Then he vanished, vanishing into the darkness.

Lena's life was falling apart as she stood there, her heart pounding.

Section Two: The Importance of Veracity

She had been grieving for Kieran for years, thinking he had lost his life defending their family and their people. And yet—he was alive now, moving among the same outlaws she had vowed to oppose.

He had also charged Damian with murder.

She did not want to accept his story. She was unable to. Several times, Damian had saved her life. When no one else would trust him, he had. What if Kieran was correct, though?

What if she was mistaken about all she believed to be true?

"Lena."

When her name was called, she jerked and turned to see Damian observing her. With his arms folded, his amber gaze scrutinised her.

"You spent the entire night out."

Lena made herself maintain a neutral expression. "I could not sleep."

His eyes remained on her face, intent and inquisitive. "Something is not right."

She paused. She was not sure if she wanted to be honest with him for the first time since they first met.

She could still hear Kieran's voice. The complete story is unknown to you.

At last, she responded, "I am fine."

Damian did not seem persuaded. "If you need to tell me something—"

"There isn't." She saw something flicker in his expression, and the words came out sharper than she had intended. Are you hurt? A letdown? She was not certain.

Before he could say another word, she looked away.

She stayed away from him the remainder of the day. No amount of perspiration or bruises could calm the storm inside her, even when she exercised harder and pushed herself to the limit.

Kieran was still alive.

A leader led the rogues.

Damian also had secrets.

She lay awake that night, gazing at the ceiling again.

She would have to decide tomorrow.

With whom did she have faith?

Her history?

Or her future?