Chapter 13

The Unraveling

The rain had not stopped for two days.

It drummed relentlessly against the windows of the packhouse, casting a gray pall over everything inside. The once-bustling corridors were quiet, weighed down by a sense of unease that clung like mist. The pack had won a battle, yes, but not the war. And now the quiet felt more threatening than the clash of steel and the roar of wolves.

Lena stood in the hallway outside Damian's office, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. For the past three days, she had avoided confronting what she’d learned in the woods. Kieran was alive. Her brother. Her blood. And he had claimed that Damian had murdered their father in cold blood.

She didn’t want to believe it.

But the doubt had burrowed its way into her chest, whispering questions in the dead of night. Why had Damian never spoken about her parents? Why had he always changed the subject when she asked about the war?

Today, she needed answers.

The door creaked open. Damian was seated at his desk, surrounded by open maps and scattered intelligence reports. His golden eyes flicked up, wary but not unkind.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said simply.

Lena stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "I need to ask you something. And I need the truth."

He sat back slowly. "Ask."

She hesitated. Her throat felt tight. "What happened to my father?"

Damian’s face didn’t change, but something shifted in the room. The tension that had lingered like a low hum suddenly snapped taut. He exhaled slowly.

"I knew this was coming."

"Don’t lie to me," she said.

"I’m not." He stood, walking to the window. "Your father... he was a strong Alpha. Proud. But he wasn't the man you remember."

Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

Damian turned to face her, and in his eyes, she saw something painful. Regret. "When the rogues began organizing years ago, he was one of the first to fall in with them. Not out of desperation, but ambition. He believed the pack system was outdated, that power should belong to the strongest regardless of bloodlines."

Lena’s stomach turned. "No. He fought to protect—"

"He changed," Damian cut in. "I tried to negotiate with him. I offered him mercy. But he attacked me. I killed him because I had no choice."

The room spun. Her chest felt hollow. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I don’t expect anything," Damian said quietly. "But you needed the truth. That’s it."

She staggered back a step. Her world felt cracked in half. Everything she thought she knew about her past—about him—was unraveling. She couldn’t breathe.

“I need air,” she whispered, and before he could respond, she was out the door.

 

The forest was drenched, the underbrush slick with rain. Lena didn’t care. She ran, her breath ragged, her feet finding familiar paths even in the darkness. Trees blurred past, their branches heavy with moisture. She needed to think. To breathe. To remember who she was.

She ended up in the same clearing where Kieran had appeared days before. The ground was muddy, the grass soaked, but she dropped to her knees anyway, the storm soaking her hair, her clothes.

And there, finally, she screamed.

The sound tore from her throat—anguished, guttural. The truth hurt. The truth betrayed. But it was hers now.

Something rustled behind her.

She stood immediately, hand on the dagger she always kept at her hip. But it wasn’t a rogue. It was Elliot.

He approached slowly, holding out his hands. "Hey. It’s just me."

Lena let the dagger fall back to her side. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw you run. Figured you shouldn’t be alone."

She didn’t respond. Rain slid down her cheeks like tears she couldn’t shed.

Elliot stood beside her. "You saw him, didn’t you? Kieran."

She glanced at him, shocked. "How do you—?"

"Because I saw him too. A few weeks ago. Didn’t tell Damian because I wasn’t sure it was real."

Lena’s voice was barely a whisper. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because I didn’t want to believe it. And because if Kieran’s alive, this war is about more than territory or power. It’s about blood. Family. Legacy."

They stood in silence, the storm raging around them.

Back at the packhouse, Damian sat alone in his office. The maps were forgotten. Reports unread. His eyes were on the rain-slicked window, and in his hand was a faded photo—an old pack gathering, long before the war. In it, Lena’s father stood tall, proud, smiling.

Damian had once looked up to him.

But that was before everything had changed.

He had made choices. Hard ones. And now, the past had returned in the form of the girl who haunted his thoughts more than she should.

He didn’t know what Lena would choose now.

But he knew the war was coming for them all.

And the truth was only the beginning.