Chapter 12: The Things Buried With Her

Devlin's POV

Long after I left the archives, I sat at my desk, the photograph resting in front of me. I'd turned it over so many times the corners were starting to soften, reading those three handwritten words until they felt carved into my mind.

From the Old Lands.

Three words. Three words that gave me more questions than they ever answered.

My thumb ran along the worn edge of the photo. "Who were you?" I whispered it to the empty room.

Nobody answered. The silence just sat there with me.

Then I slipped the photograph into my handbag and left the office. There was a smaller library at the far end of the estate, the kind of room most people forgot existed — dusty volumes, old records kept by early Alphas, dust that hadn't moved in years. I shut the door behind me and started pulling books.

Old territories. Ancient lineages. Migration registries. Anything that mentioned the Old Lands.

What little I found was vague. Then a worn, leather-bound map caught my eye.

On the table, I opened it flat. Pack territories stretched across two pages, drawn out in detail. And then nothing more. A whole section left blank, like someone had reached in and torn a piece of the word out.

Beneath the empty space, in faded calligraphy, someone had written a single line.

Beyond the known territories lies land that was never meant to be found.

My pulse stuttered.

The Old Lands weren't just some ancient, forgotten territory. They'd been erased. On purpose.

Another hour of digging through the rest of the shelf turned up nothing more.

Next, I pulled out my phone. There was only one person who had the answers I needed. My father.

Earlier, I'd told myself I wasn't going to ask him. That I could hold it in, wait, do this the careful way. I couldn't. Not anymore. He needed to explain why he'd lied to me my whole life.

So I called. Three rings, then it went straight to voicemail. I called again. Still nothing.

Instead, I sent a text.

Call me as soon as you see this, Dad.

The phone buzzed in my hand just as I was about to lower it.

A text from my father.

We need to talk. Not over the phone.

Instantly, I typed back.

About Mum?

His reply came seconds later.

About everything. But Devlin, do not ask anyone else about this.

My chest went tight reading it.

Do not ask anyone else. What was he so scared of — that someone would tell me the truth before he had the chance to bury it his own way?

There was no way I was going to sit in my bedroom waiting for permission. I grabbed my handbag, walked out to my car, and drove straight to my father's house.

The stone driveway of my childhood home felt cold under my heels. I didn't bother knocking. I pushed the grand double doors open and walked inside.

Low voices drifted from the sitting room. I stepped into the doorway to find my father near the fireplace, and my stepmother, Helena, by the window with a teacup in hand.

Helena looked up first. Her eyes swept over my trousers and plain blouse, and her lips curled into that same tight, artificial smile she always gave me — practiced, fake enough that a stranger would've clocked it in a second.

She had never liked me. I was always wrong, and Chloe was her perfect little daughter. She made sure I knew it, over and over, for most of my childhood.

"Devlin," Helena said, her tone dripping with polite condescension. "What a surprise. Though I suppose you're here to cry about the rumors? You really shouldn't be making a fuss. Chloe is two years older than you, so she understands better, and Jason needs a strong, fertile wolf to secure his bloodline. You ought to accept it gracefully instead of embarrassing the family."

A quiet, cold rage settled in my chest.

My eyes stayed on hers. "You've always favored Chloe over me, Helena. At every turn, in every room, you made sure everyone knew who belonged and who was just tolerated. But moments like this? You prove, over and over again, that you were never a real mother to me."

Helena's smile withered. Her face flushed a deep, ugly red, her teacup rattling hard against its saucer.

"Marcus, are you going to let her—"

"Helena, leave us." My father's voice was heavy, flat, done.

Helena gasped, staring at him like he'd slapped her.

"I said leave us!"

With a harsh huff and a sharp glare at me, she turned on her heel and marched out, slamming the door behind her.

Once we were alone, Dad just looked at me. He looked tired. Older than he had that morning, older than I'd ever seen him.

"Devlin... your text."

"I went to the archives today, Dad," I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I stepped toward his desk. "I saw the redacted records. I saw the order stamped on my own birth log: do not disclose her lineage. And I found her photograph. Adanya."

Dad went dead pale, the color draining out of his face so fast it looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"You spent twenty-three years letting this pack treat me like a broken mistake because I had no wolf," I said, my hands clenching into fists. "You buried her memory. What were you hiding? Why was her arrival marked Protected?"

Dad stood up slowly, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the desk.

"Devlin, stop. You don't know what you're digging into."

"I saw the map, Dad," I pressed, taking another step closer. "I saw the three words written on the back of her photo. From the Old Lands. What does that mean? What bloodline did she carry?"

"Silence!"

The word cracked through the room and I froze.

Real terror, not anger, flashed across his face as he rounded the desk.

He grabbed my shoulders. His breath was shaking.

"Never say those words in this territory! Do you have any idea what would happen if the Pack Council or the High Elders heard that name linked to you?"

"Tell me the truth!"

"The truth would have gotten you slaughtered the day you were born!" Dad's voice cracked on the word *slaughtered*, his eyes wide with something close to panic. "Your mother came from a place beyond our laws, beyond our maps! I buried her origins to keep you alive! If anyone discovers what bloodline runs in your veins, they won't just annul your marriage to Jason, Devlin. They will hunt you down. They will kill you."

His words hit harder than I expected. I felt them land somewhere under my ribs.

Staring at him, I tried to fit this new version of my life over the one I thought I'd known.

"My mother came from the Old Lands?"

Dad slowly released my shoulders.

"Yes."

The word was barely audible.

Swallowing, I asked, "What is the Old Lands?"

He looked toward the fireplace, his expression haunted.

"It isn't just a territory, Devlin. It's an ancient community. Older than the packs you know. Older than the laws our Council claims to have authority over."

"Then why have I never heard of it?"

"Because people like us were never meant to know it existed."

Shaking my head, I said, "That doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense to you. It only had to keep you alive."

"You made that decision for me."

"I am your father."

"And I am your daughter!" My voice cracked. "You should have trusted me enough to tell me who I was."

His face tightened, then broke open.

"I buried your mother's history because I had already lost her. I wasn't going to lose you too."

For the first time since I'd walked into the room, the anger in him disappeared.

There was only grief.

"I loved your mother," he said quietly. "And when she died, I promised myself that whatever she came from would die with her."

My eyes dropped to the photograph inside my handbag. It suddenly felt heavier than it had an hour ago.

"You lied to me."

"I protected you."

"Maybe you did both."

Dad had no answer. There wasn't one to give.

Taking a slow breath, I straightened.

For years, I had believed the worst thing about my life was being born without a wolf. Now I wasn't sure what frightened me more, the possibility that I'd been born different, or that my father had spent twenty-three years terrified of anyone discovering exactly how different I was.

After that, I picked up my handbag.

"I need time to process this."

"Devlin—"

At the door, I stopped but didn't turn around.

"You should have told me about her."

"I'm sorry."

His voice was so quiet it almost broke something inside me.

But I still walked out.

The cool evening air hit my face, and everything I'd learned that day pressed down on my chest all at once.

The Old Lands existed. My mother had come from there.My father had spent my entire life hiding that truth because he believed the Council would come for me if they ever discovered where I came from.

Tomorrow night was the Solstice Gala.

They were expecting a disgraced, wolfless Luna to bow her head and surrender,They had no idea how much of my life had been buried beneath their rules.

And I was done letting other people decide what I was allowed to know about myself.