LOGINThe sound outside kept getting closer.I crossed the room and peered out into the Darkwood night. I counted a dozen wolves at the tree line, maybe more lurking in the shadows. They moved with too much order, like they were following instructions—not panicked, not surprised. This was planned. Vance hadn’t scrambled to respond when he found out I was here; he’d been setting this in motion long before I showed up. Almost as soon as Marcus rolled up to my gate, with Selene trailing behind him. As soon as Vance realized his plans were unraveling—and the woman he’d spent four years trying to erase was now inside the pack’s territory he’d treated like his own fortress.He was waiting for the right moment. We basically handed it to him by putting everyone together in one place.I turned from the window. Damien was trying, not very successfully, to get out of bed.“Stay down,” I told him.“Aria—”“Damien,” I said, looking him right in the eye. “You can’t shift. You can barely stand. If you try
I sat in silence for a long time. Nadia didn’t say a word either. She just dropped back on her heels beside Damien and let the quiet stretch, because she understood what she’d asked of me—and she wasn’t the type who hides hard truths behind meaningless comfort.I could feel Cassian in the doorway behind me. He always did this—stood very still, steady as bedrock, especially when something heavy was unfolding in the room and he hadn’t yet decided how much of himself to bring into it.Damien was still breathing. Shallow, even, and alive for now. My hands pressed into his shoulders; I could feel the warmth coming back into him, a little at a time. The crisis wasn’t over exactly, but it was changing, turning into something else that was simmering beneath the surface.A mate bond, fully restored. From both sides. Willingly.Those words sat heavy inside me. I kept rolling them around in my mind, feeling out every edge. A mate bond wasn’t like making a promise you could take back later. It wa
Standing in the front hall of the Darkwood packhouse, I read Wren’s message over and over. I hoped the words would somehow change the more I stared at them, but they never did.Someone had tried to get into my birth record. Mine. Not the foundation’s finances. Not the donor list or anything someone might use to tear down what we’d built. Just that one file—my name, my mother and father, the exact day and place I existed. Vance was looking for proof.He knew I’d been in the pack records room today, digging through old files. Now he was trying to see if I’d found what was hidden in those bloodline records before Selene wiped the correspondence files.He was nervous—and honestly, I liked that. People screw up when they’re scared.I typed back to Wren: Lock my personal file. Completely. Take it offline if you have to. Nothing gets in or out without me.Her answer came right away. Already done—ten minutes ago. And Aria, the access attempt traces to a council server. I had my contact check.
I didn’t find anything else in the records that night. It wasn’t because there was nothing left to find. Somebody had beaten me to it.I realized it at half past nine. I opened the drawer where the correspondence files from four years ago should’ve been. Empty. Not even a scrap left behind, not a single file shoved out of place or misfiled. Just the neat hanging folders, labels in careful handwriting from whoever kept the records before me, but every sheet inside gone.I stood there, staring at the empty drawer for a long second. Then I checked the next drawer. Also empty. And the one below. Same. Three whole years’ worth of correspondence. Disappeared.I sat down in the records room chair, just looking at those empty drawers, thinking through the day. I’d been in the room since morning, but I’d stepped out twice—once to call Cassian in the hallway, once when I heard Selene’s voice and went to the door. Both times, I left the records room door unlocked.Somebody took three years’ reco
My father’s name was Aldric Vance.I just sat there on the floor of the records room, file open in my lap, staring at the faded ink like it might change if I looked long enough. Aldric Vance. Mara Sutton’s mate, father of one daughter, born thirty years ago. Me.Elder Vance—my father.The words felt too big to hold all at once, like handling a piece of glass you’re not sure won’t break. I tried out the truth from every direction, poked at it, waited for it to crack. It didn’t. It just sat there, solid and awful.Suddenly, everything made sense. The targeting before I’d done anything to deserve it. How invested Vance was in getting me out of Damien’s life. The weirdly huge resources deployed against me. The poison. The fake intelligence. Years of careful plotting.Turns out, I wasn’t just a Luna who’d gotten too successful. I was Aldric Vance’s daughter.If anyone found out—and if I ever said it out loud—the fallout would bury him. The council’s bloodline law was clear: a senior elder
I spent the rest of the morning tucked away in the pack records room. It’s a small space off the main hallway—packed floor to ceiling with filing cabinets and old files, smelling like paper and that familiar dust from things nobody’s touched in ages. I’d been in here plenty of times before, back when I was Luna. Usually, it was all admin stuff—checking over finances, membership lists, the paperwork that keeps a pack running. But I never thought I’d sit in here looking for proof that someone had been plotting against me for four years. I started with the visitor logs. Every pack keeps these—it’s standard security, lists every wolf who comes onto the territory, where they came from, why they showed up, how long they stayed. Most Alphas treat them like a checkbox. I never did. I always knew the most dangerous threats don’t announce themselves. Selene’s first recorded visit to Darkwood? Three years and eight months ago. Not three years—three years and eight months. That’s eight months
He told me everything.I sat across from him, just listening. Didn’t interrupt. Kept my face blank, my hands in my lap, and let him talk. That was the hardest part—not the listening, but holding still—because what he said tore apart something I’d spent three years building. This version of events I
The drive to Darkwood dragged on for four hours. Marcus took the wheel. I sat next to him with my bag shoved between my feet, phone in hand, window cracked open just enough for a bit of air. I needed to feel it—something to keep me from sinking. I hadn’t slept the night before, and my pre-dawn coff
I didn’t sleep that night—not because I was scared. Fear and I had come to terms ages ago. I stayed awake because my mind wouldn’t shut up and my wolf kept pacing, and honestly, trying to rest felt useless. So I parked myself at my desk until two in the morning, sifting through what I knew and wha
He gave me thirty minutes. I stared at the kitchen clock as he said it. The second hand ticked away—around and around—while everything inside me had ground to a halt. Thirty minutes to pack up my life and get out of Darkwood Pack. That’s all my mate of four years decided I was worth. Thirty minut







