Chapter 19: The Truth Beneath the Moon

The night was quiet again. Too quiet. The forest smelled of blood and smoke, and the moon hung low and heavy above the camp. Lena sat outside Damian’s tent, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her clothes were still stained from the fight, but she didn’t feel the cold.

All she could hear was Kieran’s voice echoing in her mind.

“Ask your Alpha how he became one.”

The words burned.

When Elliot stepped out of the tent, he paused beside her. “He’s awake,” he said softly. “He asked for you.”

Lena nodded but didn’t move. “Is he worse?”

“He’ll live,” Elliot said. “You know Damian. Too stubborn to die.”

Lena gave a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Stubborn fits him.”

Elliot hesitated, then added, “Whatever Kieran said out there… be careful. The truth hurts more than any blade.”

“I already know that,” she said quietly.

She stood and pushed open the tent flap. The inside smelled faintly of herbs and blood. Damian lay on a cot, shirtless, his side wrapped tightly in bandages. He looked pale but alert, his golden eyes focused on her the moment she stepped in.

“You should rest,” she said.

“I will when you stop pacing outside my tent,” he replied with a tired smile.

She didn’t smile back. She pulled up a stool and sat beside him. “We need to talk.”

He studied her face for a moment, his smile fading. “About your brother.”

“Yes,” she said. “About what he said.”

He was silent. The only sound was the faint crackle of the oil lamp on the table.

Lena leaned forward. “He told me you killed my father. That you started the war. That everything I believed was a lie.”

Damian’s jaw tightened. “He’s twisting the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth,” she demanded. “All of it.”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then he took a deep breath and looked at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t name.

“Your father was a good man once,” he began slowly. “But he made a choice that cost everything.”

“What choice?”

Damian’s voice grew heavier. “He allied with the rogues. He thought he could control them, use them to force peace between the packs. But they used him instead. They wanted power, and he gave them a way in.”

Lena shook her head. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“I wish that were true,” Damian said softly. “But when I found out, it was already too late. The rogues had crossed into our borders. Dozens of families were killed in one night. I went to your father to stop him. He refused to stand down.”

Her throat tightened. “So you killed him.”

“I tried to reason with him,” Damian said quietly. “He wouldn’t listen. He said he’d burn every pack to the ground before he bowed to me. We fought. He attacked first.”

Lena stared at him, her chest aching. “You killed him.”

“I defended myself,” Damian said, his voice breaking. “He was gone before I even realized what I’d done.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Lena rose to her feet, her hands trembling. “You should have told me.”

“I wanted to,” Damian said. “But you weren’t ready.”

“I wasn’t ready?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You think lying to me was protecting me?”

“I was trying to keep you from hating me,” he said.

She laughed bitterly. “You failed.”

He flinched, but didn’t look away. “You needed a reason to live, Lena. If I had told you then, you would’ve run straight into the rogues’ arms. And Kieran would have won.”

Lena’s eyes filled with tears she refused to shed. “You took everything from me, Damian. My family. My home. And then you made me fight beside you as if none of it mattered.”

He sat up slowly, ignoring the pain. “It mattered. Every moment mattered. I never wanted to use you. I wanted to save you.”

“From what?”

“From yourself,” he said. “You were drowning in hate. I saw it the first time I looked at you.”

Lena turned away, breathing hard. “You don’t get to decide what I feel.”

“I didn’t,” Damian said quietly. “I just gave you a reason to survive.”

For a long time, neither spoke. The only sound was her uneven breathing and the soft rustle of the tent walls in the wind.

Finally, she whispered, “You could have told me the truth and let me decide for myself.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But then you wouldn’t have stayed.”

She turned, her eyes flashing. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Damian said, his voice steady now. “You would have left. You would have hated me, and the rogues would have destroyed everything we’ve built.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t understand. He was my father.”

“I know,” Damian said softly. “And I’ll carry that weight for the rest of my life.”

Lena stared at him, torn between anger and sorrow. “You talk like you’re proud of it.”

“No,” he said, his gaze dark. “There’s no pride in what I did. Only consequence.”

She wanted to yell, to hit him, to make him feel the pain burning inside her. But when she looked at him, broken and bleeding, she saw something else — guilt. Real, deep guilt.

It didn’t erase what he’d done, but it made it harder to hate him.

Finally, she said quietly, “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he replied. “But don’t believe your brother’s lies. He’s using you.”

Lena turned away again. “Maybe everyone is.”

She walked out before he could answer.

The camp was quiet, but not at peace. The air buzzed with unease. She could feel the eyes of the pack on her as she passed, whispers following her like shadows.

She found Jace near the training field, sharpening his blade. “You look like you’re about to break something,” he said without looking up.

“Someone,” she muttered.

He glanced up. “You talked to him.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He killed my father,” she said flatly.

Jace set down his blade slowly. “And now you’re wondering if he told the truth.”

Lena gave him a sharp look. “How did you know?”

“Because that’s what I’d be thinking,” he said simply. “Damian lies when it suits him, but not without reason.”

“Reason,” she repeated bitterly. “That’s what he calls it too.”

Jace sighed. “You want my advice?”

“No,” she said, but he gave it anyway.

“If you want the truth, stop asking people who were there. Find proof. The past doesn’t lie, even when people do.”

Lena frowned. “Proof?”

“Records. Letters. Anything from that time. The elders keep them in the archives.”

She hesitated. “If I go digging through that, Damian will know.”

Jace shrugged. “Then don’t get caught.”

The archive was buried beneath the old meeting hall, a place few dared to enter without permission. By midnight, Lena slipped inside, moving silently through the dark corridors.

The air smelled of dust and parchment. Moonlight filtered through narrow windows, casting pale lines across the floor.

She searched shelf after shelf until she found the war records — old maps, letters, and names written in fading ink.

Her fingers stopped on a sealed envelope marked with the crest of her family. Her heart pounded as she broke it open.

The letter was short. Her father’s handwriting filled the page.

*Damian is right. I was wrong to trust the rogues. If this reaches anyone, tell my children I fought for peace, not power. Tell them I never wanted this war.*

Lena sank to the floor, tears blurring the words. The letter fell from her hands. Everything she thought she knew crumbled.

He hadn’t betrayed anyone. He had tried to stop it.

And Damian… had carried the blame alone.

She didn’t know how long she sat there before footsteps echoed behind her.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Damian’s voice came softly.

She turned sharply. “You followed me.”

“I knew you’d come here,” he said. “You’re too much like him.”

Her voice trembled. “You let me hate you.”

“I deserved it,” he said. “Your father died trying to make peace. I couldn’t save him. The rogues turned on him, and by the time I got there, he was gone. But I couldn’t tell anyone. If the packs knew their Alpha had trusted the enemy, they would have torn each other apart.”

Lena shook her head slowly. “So you carried it.”

“I carried both our sins,” Damian said quietly.

She stared at him, torn between fury and pity. “You could have told me. You should have trusted me.”

“I trust you now,” he said.

The silence stretched again. The air between them was heavy with all the words they had never said.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft. “He didn’t die hating you.”

“I know,” Damian said. “But I’ll never forgive myself for not saving him.”

Lena took a shaky breath. “Then we both have ghosts.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe that’s why we understand each other.”

She looked down at the letter in her hands. “Kieran will never believe this.”

“Then we show him,” Damian said. “Together.”

Lena lifted her eyes to his. “You really think he can be saved?”

“I think everyone can,” he said quietly. “Even me.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t look away. The truth had broken something between them, but it had also built something new — fragile, uncertain, but real.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “Then let’s end this.”

And under the silent gaze of the moon, the Alpha and the lost daughter stood side by side, no longer divided by lies, but united by the truth they had finally found.