9

9

Adam hadn’t trusted silence since the day it learned how to lie.

A week without attacks should have felt like relief. It should have loosened the knot in his chest, eased the pressure behind his eyes, let him sleep more than two hours at a time without jolting awake convinced the borders were burning.

Instead, it made everything worse. Silence meant someone was moving pieces. Silence meant Decker was thinking.

Adam stood at the war table on the first floor, hands braced on either side of a spread of maps. The paper was scarred from fingers and pens and knives marks and circles and arrows tracking where blood had spilled, where patrols had vanished, where civilians had come home with eyes too wide and voices too quiet.

Matthew leaned over the northern sector, jaw tight. “No movement.”

“No visible movement,” Adam corrected, tapping the edge of the river line. “That’s the difference.”

Matthew nodded, but his eyes stayed hard. “My people in Dark Mountain aren’t talking. Not like they were. It’s like someone put a muzzle on the whole pack.”

Adam’s gaze drifted to the window. Twilight bled through the trees like bruising. “Decker’s in control,” Adam said. Or trying to be.

A knock sounded at the office door. Not a polite knock. One quick rap. Then the door pushed open. A young warrior, Eli, stepped in with the kind of rigid posture that screamed urgency. He held an envelope in one hand like it might bite him.

“Alpha,” Eli said, voice careful.

Adam straightened. “What is it?”

“It came through the gate.” Eli’s eyes flicked to Matthew, then back. “No one saw who delivered it. Just… found it on the post. Sealed.”

Adam didn’t take it immediately. Because nothing arrived uninvited anymore unless it was meant to send a message.

Matthew stepped closer. “Any scent?”

Eli swallowed. “Too many. The gate’s been marked a dozen times today from patrol rotations.”

Matthew’s mouth tightened. “Then it was planned.”

Adam held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

The envelope was thick. The paper is rough, old-fashioned, the kind packs used when they wanted to remind you that they didn’t need technology to ruin your life. No return address. Just one thing scrawled across the front in bold strokes: EDGEWATER FALLS ALPHA ADAM

Adam’s fingers tightened around it. He didn’t open it yet. Instead he turned, placing it on the table like evidence.

Matthew’s gaze narrowed. “That's the Dark Mountain script.”

Adam studied the seal, black wax pressed with an imprint he recognized from old council documents. Dark Mountain Council. Not a personal mark. Not Decker’s direct signature. A formal channel.

“Could be a trap,” Matthew said.

“It is,” Adam replied calmly.

Matthew blinked. “You think it’s explosive?”

Adam’s mouth twitched without humor. “Not the kind you mean.”

He took a blade from the table and slid it beneath the seal, breaking the wax in one smooth motion. He unfolded the paper carefully.

The room seemed to tighten around him as he read. Then tightened again. Adam didn’t react right away. He made himself read it twice, slowly, letting every word land.

Matthew leaned forward. “What does it say?”

Adam set the letter down, turning it so Matthew could see.

Alpha Adam of Edgewater Falls,

The war between Dark Mountain and Edgewater Falls began under our fathers’ rule and was fed by our parents’ choices. It has buried too many of our people and cost more than territory.

Your parents and my father carried this feud like a crown. You and I did not choose it, but we inherited the consequences. Now that we are the ones who hold the title, it is our responsibility to decide what comes next.

Attacks have ceased by my order. I offer truce talks. Not as a weakness. As control.

If you have the will to end what they began, respond through the council channel.

Alpha Decker of Dark Mountain

Matthew read in silence, his expression shifting in small, dangerous ways skepticism, anger, suspicion. When he looked up, his eyes were sharp. “He’s blaming your parents.”

“He’s stating a fact,” Adam said, voice even.

Matthew’s jaw clenched. “He’s manipulating. He’s rewriting history to paint himself as…”

“As reasonable?” Adam finished.

Matthew gave him a hard look. “As safe.”

Adam stared down at the letter again. Decker’s tone was controlled. Not pleading. Not threatening. A message crafted to sound like leadership. And that line, Attacks have ceased by my order. That wasn’t a request. It was a demonstration. A reminder that Decker could turn violence off like a tap… which meant he could turn it back on whenever he wanted.

Adam’s fingers tightened around the edge of the paper. “Council channel,” Adam murmured.

Matthew’s voice dropped. “He wants the council involved so you can’t just kill him if he steps over the line.”

Adam looked up. “He wants legitimacy.”

“And proximity,” Matthew added, eyes narrowing.

Adam didn’t respond, but he felt the truth of it. Decker wanted to come closer. Maybe for politics. Maybe for power. Or maybe, Adam’s gaze flicked toward the hallway, toward the part of the house Lotty slept in. For something else entirely.

A knock sounded again, more tentative this time, and the office door opened just enough for the housekeeper to speak.

“Alpha… Dr. Lotty’s home.”

Adam’s chest tightened in a way he refused to name. “Send her in,” Adam said.

Lotty appeared in the doorway still wearing her hospital hoodie, hair pulled back, dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted, but she carried it like armor.

Her gaze flicked from Adam to Matthew. “What happened?”

Matthew didn’t soften it. “Decker reached out.”

Lotty’s posture shifted instantly alert, wary. “Reached out how?”

Adam gestured to the letter on the table. “Read.”

She stepped forward and scanned it quickly, then slower. Adam watched her face change as the words settled. “Truce,” she said quietly.

“An offer,” Adam corrected.

Lotty looked up. “Did the attacks really stop because of him?”

Matthew answered. “Seems that way.”

Lotty’s mouth tightened. “That should make me feel better.”

“It shouldn’t,” Adam said.

Her eyes met his. “No. It shouldn’t.”

Adam exhaled slowly. “He claims the war started with our parents.”

Lotty’s gaze dropped back to the letter. “It did.”

Matthew bristled. “Lotty.”

“It did,” she repeated, sharper. “I was there. I heard the arguments. I saw the way Mom and Dad talked about Dark Mountain like it was inevitable.”

Matthew’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t interrupt again.

Lotty’s voice softened, turning inward. “That doesn’t mean Decker is sincere.”

Adam studied her. “Do you think he is?”

Lotty’s eyes narrowed slightly as if she could see something behind the words. “I think he’s smart enough to know a pause will make you anxious. I think he’s testing you.”

Matthew nodded once, approving.

“And,” Lotty added carefully, “I think he wants something.”

Adam’s gaze sharpened. “What?”

Lotty hesitated. Then she lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, pretending the answer didn’t matter. “I don’t know,” she said. “But no one offers peace without a price.”

Adam’s fingers tapped the table once, controlled. “That’s why I don’t like this,” he said quietly.

Matthew leaned in. “We can respond through the council channel like he asked. Agree to talks, but on our terms.”

Lotty glanced between them. “Meaning?”

“Meaning he comes here,” Matthew said. “Edgewater Falls territory. Our security. Our ground.”

Lotty’s mouth tightened. “And if it’s a trap?”

Adam’s voice went low. “Then we spring it back.”

Lotty held his gaze for a beat, then nodded once. “Okay.”

Adam didn’t smile. “I’m sending the response tonight.”

Matthew straightened. “I’ll coordinate council confirmation.”

Lotty stepped back. “And what do you want me to do?”

Adam’s eyes softened slightly. “Get some sleep.”

She gave him a look. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” Adam said, and when she didn’t relent he added, “Stay at the hospital. Stay where your guards can keep you safe. Do not walk alone. Not even in daylight.”

Lotty’s face tightened. “Adam.”

“Lotty,” he cut in, not harsh but firm. “I’m not doing this to punish you.”

“I know,” she whispered, and the fact that she didn’t argue further made something in Adam’s chest ache.

Matthew cleared his throat. “If Decker’s serious, he’ll respond fast.”

Adam nodded once. “And if he’s not, the attacks resume.”

Lotty’s eyes dropped to the letter again. “Or get worse.”

Silence settled. Adam folded the paper with slow precision and slid it into a file folder like he could contain the threat inside paper and ink. Then he looked at them both.

“We proceed cautiously,” Adam said. “No one relaxes. No one celebrates. And no one assumes we’re safe because the wolves stopped howling.”

Matthew nodded.

Lotty did too, slower.

Adam turned toward the desk and began writing his response, his pen scratching in deliberate strokes. Yes, he would talk. But only with the leash in his hand.

The next morning, the council phone rang. It wasn’t a normal ring. It was the secure line, heavy, old, reserved for Alpha-to-Alpha business and council communications that could shift the world.

Matthew was already in the office when it happened. Lotty sat in a chair near the window, coffee untouched, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion.

Adam stared at the phone for one heartbeat. Then picked it up. “Alpha Adam,” he said.

A pause. Then a voice deep, steady, unfamiliar but carrying the unmistakable weight of command. “Alpha Decker.”

Lotty went still.

Matthew’s eyes narrowed.

Adam’s grip tightened on the receiver. “You move fast.”

“I don’t waste time,” Decker replied. The voice was controlled, no taunting, no warmth. Just authority wrapped in calm.

Adam’s stomach twisted. He could hear the council line open behind Decker’s words, the faint hum of others listening. Witnesses. Insurance.

“I received your letter,” Adam said.

“I assumed you would,” Decker answered. “The attacks have stopped.”

“I noticed,” Adam said flatly. “It made me more suspicious, not less.”

A quiet exhale on the other end almost amused. “Good. You’re not a fool.”

Lotty’s fingers curled around her mug.

Matthew leaned closer, listening.

“You claim you want a truce,” Adam said.

“I want an end,” Decker replied. “Not a pause. Not another cycle of blood.”

Adam’s jaw flexed. “Your father built this war.”

“So did your parents,” Decker countered, voice steady. “And now they’re all gone. The crown is on our heads. The question is whether we wear it like men or like ghosts.”

Lotty’s breath hitched softly.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your words.”

“I chose them carefully,” Decker said. “I’m offering talks because I can control my pack. Because I can stop the killings.”

“And restart them,” Adam said.

Silence.

Then Decker answered, blunt and honest. “Yes.”

Matthew’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Adam didn’t flinch. “So why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” Decker said immediately. “Not yet.” That startled Lotty. It startled Adam too, though he didn’t show it. Decker continued, “Trust is earned. I’m offering a step. A conversation. Not friendship.”

Adam’s gaze flicked briefly to Lotty, then back to the phone. “You want to talk,” Adam said. “You come here. Edgewater Falls. Under council witness.”

Decker didn’t hesitate. “Agreed.”

Matthew’s brows lifted slightly.

Adam kept his voice even. “You’ll come unarmed.”

A pause on the other end is short, calculating. “I’ll come with two council guards.”

“Fine,” Adam said. “They’ll be searched.”

“Expected,” Decker replied.

Lotty’s stomach tightened. Something about the voice, how steady it was, how controlled, made her skin prickle, like her wolf was listening too.

“This truce will be temporary,” Adam said. “A cessation while talks happen. Any attack, any single incursion and it ends.”

“I understand,” Decker said. “And if your pack strikes mine during talks, same.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “Fair.”

There was another pause, and for the first time Decker’s voice shifted slightly less steel, more intention. “This war doesn’t benefit us,” Decker said. “It benefits the dead.”

Adam swallowed, the words hitting closer than he liked. Then Adam answered carefully, “If you’re sincere, we’ll find a way.”

Decker’s response came after a beat, quiet but firm. “I am.” Hopeful. Not warm. Not safe. But hopeful.

Adam hung up slowly, the receiver clicking into place like a verdict. For a long moment no one spoke.

Matthew exhaled first. “He agreed too easily.”

Lotty whispered, almost to herself, “And he sounded… certain.”

Adam stared at the phone, the weight of leadership settling heavier on his shoulders. “Certainty doesn’t mean honesty,” Adam said. “But it does mean we have a direction.”

Matthew’s eyes were hard. “Or a trap.”

Adam looked at them both. “Either way, we prepare.”

Lotty nodded once, face tight. “If he comes here…”

Adam’s voice dropped. “We control the ground.”

Matthew’s jaw clenched. “And we keep you protected.”

Lotty’s expression tightened at the reminder, but she didn’t argue this time. Because even she could feel it. The war hadn’t ended. But something had shifted.

And for the first time since Adam took over, there was a crack in the blood-soaked path ahead. Whether it led to peace… Or straight into the jaws of something worse… Adam didn’t know. But he would walk it anyway. Because he was Alpha. And because Lotty was home.