Chapter 47

ALPHA RUNE 

"I'm not leaving," Carmen dared, moving closer to Kayvon near the door. They began whispering, thinking I couldn't hear them. Carmen’s voice was laced with a frustration she could no longer hide. "Kayvon, tell me again... who was this Sara Lockwood? Why is she the only thing that matters to him? I’ve tried to wrap my head around it, but you were in that coma and he wouldn't say a word."

Kayvon was silent for a beat. "Sara was special. She gave him hope when nobody else would," he replied softly. "She was the light he didn't know he was allowed to have."

Carmen seemed to finally grasp the gravity of my loss. But her next words were a hiss that cut through the stagnant air: "Then find her!"

"Find her," I interjected, my voice slicing through their whispers like a cold blade. I sat up, my spine popping with a series of sharp reports after months of disuse.

Kayvon looked at me, his expression pained. "Rune... how do we find someone who is dead? We saw the wreckage on the highway. We saw the forensic reports. What is wrong with you both?"

Before he could continue his protest, the door swung wider. Zita entered, her combat gear caked in the grey dust of the road. "Oh, for fuck’s sake, who else is out there?" I growled. "Silas? Elder Torin? You might as well all come out now!"

Zita looked at me like I had lost my mind, then glanced at the others. "I just returned from the neutral territories. I ran into a patrol from the Twilight Zone. Tristan was with them."

I felt a spark of something—cold, sharp, and electric—in the pit of my stomach. "Tristan is supposed to be dead. The toxin I saw in his system should have taken his heart months ago. No healer we have could touch it."

"He looked healthy, Alpha," Zita insisted, her voice steady despite the tension. "Robust. He looked stronger than he was even before the infection took hold."

"Impossible," Carmen whispered, her eyes wide.

"I don't understand," Kayvon muttered, rubbing his temples. "How is Alpha Tristan being healthy an impossibility? And what does that have to do with Sara?"

Carmen took a deep breath, reigning in her temper. "Kayvon, you were in a coma. You missed the details. Rune told us himself—only a Lockwood’s touch could purge that specific rot from Tristan’s system. He refused our healers because he knew only Sara had the power to save him."

Kayvon froze, the gears of his tactical mind finally beginning to spin. "If he is healthy... if the toxin is gone... then how could Sara be dead? She would have had to be alive to heal him."

The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with a realization that changed everything.

"The car wreckage," Kayvon muttered, quickly pulling up a digital map on his tablet. "Highway 25. It leads toward Silvermoon, but the forensic sweep showed the vehicle was actually angled toward the Twilight Zone border when it went over the embankment. It wasn't fleeing Silvermoon; it was coming home to the Twilight Zone."

"Which packs are stationed along Highway 25?" I demanded, standing up. My legs felt like lead, and my head swam, but the fire in my blood was roaring back to life.

"Silvermoon is the primary power," Kayvon listed quickly, his fingers flying over the screen. "And there are two minor vassal packs—the Stone-Claw and the River-Runners."

I looked at Zita, my eyes narrowing. "Go back. Get into the Twilight Zone. I don't care how many shadows you have to kill or how many laws you have to break. Find out if she is there. Find out if Tristan is hiding a ghost in his cellar."

I turned to Kayvon, the authority of the Conqueror returning to my voice. "Go back to that crash site. Scour every square inch of that ravine. If that body was a fake, there will be a trace. A chemical residue, a scrap of the wrong fabric, a misplaced scent—anything. While you're at it, keep the pack from tearing itself apart. You’re in charge until I return."

"Return?" Carmen asked, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and relief. "Where are we going?"

"Get your gear, Carmen," I said, reaching for my old leather jacket. "We’re going on a trip. I want to see exactly how 'healthy' Tristan has become with my own eyes. But first..." I paused, my jaw tight. "Let's go see if any of those minor packs on Highway 25 recall seeing a woman fitting her description."

Carmen stared at me, her tactical brain already plotting the route. "You suspect foul play? You think the entire accident was a staged ruse to fake her death?"

I nodded once, the weight of six months of grief beginning to transform into a cold, calculated rage. The hope I had buried was screaming to the surface, and it felt like a declaration of war.

I didn't wait for them to respond. I walked toward the door, my strides lengthening as the old power began to hum in my veins. The three of them followed me in a stunned, respectful silence. We exited the bedroom, moving through the private hallway and toward the grand staircase that led to the main hall of the fortress.

As I stepped onto the marble landing, I stopped dead.

Below me, hundreds of wolves—warriors in full regalia, servants, and the high elders—were gathered in the foyer. The moment my boot hit the top step, the room went silent. Then, as one, they began to clap. A slow, thunderous, rhythmic applause that shook the very foundations of the mountain.

I looked at Carmen, genuinely confused. "Why are they doing this?"

She looked at me, a small, genuine smile touching her lips for the first time in years. "Because, Rune... it’s the first time you’ve stepped out of that room in half a year. They don't just see a grieving man anymore. They see that the Conqueror is back."

I looked down at my pack, the sea of faces looking up at me for guidance, for strength, for leadership. Then I looked out toward the horizon where the Twilight Zone lay hidden in the morning mists.

"I’m not back yet," I whispered, the words a promise to the wind. "But I'm coming for her. And heaven help anyone standing in my way."