The Letter of War

Knox stood before the wide table in his study, one hand resting on the edge as he studied the southern borders marked in ink and blood-red pins.

“The investigation must be thorough,” he said calmly. “No assumptions. No mercy for lies.”

Across from him, Beta Stefan nodded. “Our scouts are retracing every step of her exile. Every witness. Every report.”

Knox’s voice lowered. “I want the truth laid bare before she rests fully.”

Stefan understood what his Alpha meant.

Knox did not intend to shield her with blind loyalty—not even as his mate.

He intended to prove her innocence so completely that no one would ever dare question it again.

“When she is healed,” Knox continued, “she will train and learn the ways of the pack. Stand as every she-wolf in this territory does—by choice, or command.”

Stefan allowed himself a small smile. “She’ll be stronger for it.”

Before Knox could respond, the doors burst open.

Gamma Ray strode in, breath tight, posture rigid with urgency.

“My Alpha,” Ray said, bowing deeply. “Beta Stefan.”

“What is it?” Knox asked, already sensing the shift in the air.

Ray crossed the room and placed a sealed letter on the desk.

The crest burned like an insult. Nightclaw Pack.

Knox picked it up slowly.

As he broke the seal and read, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

His jaw tightened. His golden eyes darkened—not with rage, but with something far worse. Control.

Stefan leaned forward. “What does it say?”

Knox handed him the letter without a word.

Stefan read. And exploded. “That bastard,” Stefan roared. “He accuses her of murder and banished her and now, he demands her return for punishment? He has no right—”

Ray’s eyes flared. “They dare threaten you?”

“They always did,” Knox said quietly. Both men turned to him.

“He wants her released,” Knox continued evenly. “Or I will be branded a traitor to all packs under the southern region alliance.” Knox smirks while resting his face on right palm.

Stefan slammed his fist into the table. “Let him try. He doesn't know that you are the leader of the alliance”

Ray growled low in his chest. “This is an opportunity, my Alpha. A perfect one. Declare offense. Strike first. That throne is yours by blood.”

Knox said nothing. Silence stretched. Heavy. Dangerous.

They both knew that look. The stillness before devastation.

Finally, Knox spoke. “I appreciate the suggestion, Ray.” Ray inclined his head.

“But an Alpha’s strength,” Knox continued, “is not his muscles.”

His eyes gleamed. “It is his mind.”

Stefan exhaled slowly. “We ignore them,” Stefan said. “For now. Until the investigation is complete. But we tighten security. Every border. Every shadow.”

Knox nodded. “Exactly.”

He turned to Ray. “Double the guards. Rotate patrols. No gaps. No mercy for anyone who dares to intrude.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Ray said firmly.

“And Stefan,” Knox added. “I want the truth fast.”

Stefan’s voice was grim. “You’ll have it.”

Knox dismissed them with a wave. The doors closed, leaving him alone.

He returned to the desk, reading the letter once more.

A slow smile curved his lips. “So eager to wage war,” he murmured. “Still charging blind, little brother.”

He folded the letter carefully. “Good,” Knox said softly. “Let him come on his own accord.” He grins " But first, I need to see my mate."

Knox found her by the window.

The night wrapped the room in silver moonlight spilling across her pale face as she sat curled on the bed, knees drawn to her chest. She looked smaller than before—fragile in a way that had nothing to do with her healed injuries.

She turned when he entered. Her wolf felt him before her eyes did.

“You’re awake,” Knox said quietly.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied.

Knox crossed the room slowly and stopped a respectful distance away. “I came to tell you something,” he said.

Her chest tightened instantly. “What is it?”

He held up the letter. Recognition dawned—and dread followed.

“Finn sent this,” Knox said. “An official demand.”

Her fingers trembled. “Demand… for what?”

“For your return,” he said evenly. “To face punishment.” The room spun.

She laughed once—soft, broken. “Punishment?”

Knox watched her carefully as the words landed.

“He wants you released into his custody,” Knox continued. “Or he will brand me a traitor.”

The color drained from her face.

"It seems someone wants you dead by all possible means"

“He wants me dead,” she whispered. Knox didn’t deny it.

Tears welled in her eyes, but none fell.

“Ten years,” she said hoarsely. “We were so close for ten years. Before the mate bond. Before Delilah. Before everything.”

Her voice cracked. “I trusted him.”

Her hands fisted into the blankets as something inside her shattered.

“Without being his personal healer, i still would have died for him,” she whispered. “And he wants me returned for more punishment? After he had banished me unjustly?.”

Knox stepped closer. “He will not touch you,” he said firmly. “Not while you are under my protection.”

She looked up at him, eyes glossy. “You have being exiled for long and don’t know him like I do.”

“I know enough,” Knox replied. “And I know you are safe here.” Silence stretched.

Then Knox spoke again. “But I need the truth,” he said quietly. She stiffened.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said. “Everything surrounding your banishment. No fear. No excuses.”

She swallowed hard. And then she told him. About Delilah’s return.

The accusations. The poisoned meal she never made nor touched.

The miscarriage that wasn’t hers to explain.

The rejection that ripped her apart.

She spoke until her throat burned and her hands shook.

Knox said nothing. Not a word. His face remained unreadable, his posture still.

When she finished, she dropped her gaze.

“You don’t believe me,” she whispered.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say you do,” she replied.

Knox studied her for a long moment. “A part of me believes you,” he said finally.

Her breath hitched. “But belief is not enough,” he continued. “Truth must stand on its own.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I understand,” she said softly. “I just… didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

Knox reached out then—not touching her, but close enough that his presence wrapped around her like armor.

“You will not face this alone,” he said. “No matter what the investigation reveals.”

She nodded, tears finally slipping free.

Knox straightened. “Rest,” he said. “And heal.”

He turned toward the door, then paused.

“And for what it’s worth,” he added quietly, without looking back, “Finn’s greatest weakness has always been believing the wrong people.” The door closed behind him.

Alone again, she pressed a hand to her chest.

And prayed that truth would be enough to save her.