Chapter Four - Six Years Later

Nia’s POV

“We need to acquire Dark Crest Moon now that they are at their lowest.”

The statement cut across the council chamber like a blade laid flat against stone.

Maps were spread across the long oak table, inked territories marked in red and gold. Reports of failing trade routes, breached borders, and dwindling alliances sat stacked in neat piles. The scent of frustration hung heavy in the air.

I placed my palm flat on the table and then struck it hard enough to silence the murmurs.

“The acquisition of Dark Crest Moon serves no strategic value to the Blood Thorne Pack at this time,” I said evenly, though my pulse had quickened. “Their infrastructure is crumbling, their patrol routes are inconsistent, and their economy has taken a visible decline over the past two years. What we require now is reinforcement of our own security systems and expansion of our trade network toward the eastern ports. We cannot afford to stretch our forces thin simply to conquer a wounded territory.”

An elder seated near the head of the table leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing.

“Or perhaps,” he replied slowly, “you are preventing the acquisition because the Alpha of Dark Crest Moon happens to be your former husband and the father of your triplets as the rumors stated.”

The air shifted instantly.

Several heads turned in my direction.

The elder continued before anyone could interrupt him. “There are already rumors circulating regarding the resemblance of your children and the timing of their births. It would not be surprising if sentiment were clouding your judgment.”

I straightened slowly and turned to face him fully.

“You will not include my children in any political discourse within this chamber,” I said, my voice calm but edged with steel. “Their names, their identities, and their existence are not subjects for speculation or strategy. If you have a challenge to my analysis, present it based on logistics and data, not gossip.”

The elder opened his mouth to retort, but another voice cut across the room before he could speak.

“That is enough.”

Alpha Torin Hemt rose from his seat at the head of the table, his presence commanding without needing to raise his voice. His dark gaze moved from the elder to me and back again.

“Chief Strategist Nia speaks from analysis, not emotion,” Torin continued. “Her projections have increased our trade yield by thirty percent and reduced border infiltration to near zero over the last five years. You will address her with the respect her position demands.”

The elder lowered his gaze.

“My apologies, Chief Strategist.”

Torin inclined his head slightly and then dismissed the council with a firm gesture.

One by one, the elders filed out of the chamber until only Torin and I remained.

He walked toward the window overlooking the central courtyard, his posture thoughtful.

“You handled that well,” he said quietly.

“I am accustomed to whispers,” I replied.

He turned to face me fully. “The rumors will grow louder as the children grow older. Their resemblance is difficult to ignore.”

My chest tightened, but I kept my composure.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I am suggesting,” he said carefully, “that it may be time to consider sending the triplets to the Wolves Academy. Structured training will strengthen their control and perhaps divert attention from idle speculation. If Darian Hendres hears enough rumors, he may begin to ask questions.”

The mention of Darian’s name stirred something old and sharp inside me.

“I do not want him involved in their lives,” I said firmly. “Not yet. They will turn eight first. Their Guardian Wolf must complete his defensive training before they enter formal schooling. I will not risk their safety on impatience.”

Torin studied me for a long moment before nodding.

“I know,” he said softly. “I remember.”

His words pulled me backward in time whether I wished it or not.

---

Six years earlier, I had been dying.

The poison burned through me long after I stumbled beyond Dark Crest Moon’s borders. My body had felt as though it were being devoured from within, my vision dimming until the world narrowed to shadows and pain.

I remembered collapsing.

I remembered the taste of iron in my mouth.

And then I remembered a pair of boots stopping inches from my bloodstained hands.

Torin Hemt had not yet been Alpha then, only the heir to the Blood Thorne Pack. He recognized me instantly.

“The Luna of Dark Crest Moon,” he had murmured, crouching beside me.

There had been calculations in his eyes. His brother had died during a territorial clash with Dark Crest Moon two years prior, and Torin had never forgiven Darian for what he believed was unnecessary aggression.

I had understood that look.

Leverage.

“If you let me die,” I had rasped, “you lose your advantage.”

He had paused.

“I can make your pack stronger than Dark Crest Moon,” I had forced out through the pain. “Stronger economically. Stronger militarily. I can help you surpass him.”

“And in return?” he had asked.

“You ensure my safety. You keep my identity hidden. You protect my children when they are born.”

His eyes had sharpened at that.

“You are carrying his heirs.”

“I am carrying my future,” I corrected weakly. “And if you ever wish to break the curse that shadows your bloodline, you will need me alive.”

He had not believed me entirely, but ambition outweighed doubt.

He had carried me back to Blood Thorne territory himself.

The rest had been survival.

Recovery had taken months. Trust had taken longer. The curse that plagued Torin’s lineage, a hereditary instability of their wolves that caused violent loss of control under certain moons, had required careful strategy and ritual research to mitigate. Together, we strengthened his pack’s trade routes, reorganized its defense units, and established alliances Dark Crest Moon once monopolized.

And when my triplets were born under a storm that split the sky open, Torin stood guard outside the chamber.

He never once asked me to return to Darian.

He never once exposed my secret.

---

“Mother!”

The sound of small feet pounding down the corridor pulled me back to the present.

All three of them burst into my office at once, dark hair wild and eyes bright.

“The Alpha’s Beta is here,” my eldest daughter Vileen announced breathlessly. “He says it is time for the monthly toxin.”

I exhaled slowly.

The controlled microdose administered monthly was part of Torin’s ongoing treatment to stabilize the curse within his wolf. It required precise herbal preparation.

“Very well,” I said, kneeling to smooth their hair. “You will help me gather the herbs.”

They cheered at the responsibility.

We walked together into the forest bordering Blood Thorne, baskets in hand. Sunlight filtered through thick branches, and for a brief time, I allowed myself the simple joy of their laughter.

We separated slightly to collect the necessary plants within sight of one another.

It was not until I straightened from cutting a cluster of silverleaf that I realized the forest had grown too quiet.

“Vince?” I called.

No answer.

My heart dropped.

The other two children looked up immediately.

“He was just here,” my other son Vincenzo said, pointing toward the denser part of the woods.

I dropped the basket.

“Stay together and do not move,” I ordered firmly.

Then I ran.

Branches clawed at my arms as I searched, calling his name again and again. Panic clawed up my throat as worst-case visions assaulted my mind.

I was about to break into a full shift when I heard it.

A small, trembling voice.

“Mother!”

Relief hit so hard my knees nearly gave out.

I pushed through the underbrush and found him kneeling beside a fallen log, dirt smeared across his cheek.

And standing behind him was a tall, muscular figure.

I rushed forward and gathered Vince into my arms, checking him frantically for injuries.

“Are you hurt?” I demanded.

He shook his head.

“The wolf scared me,” he whispered. “But he chased it away.”

I finally looked up to thank the stranger.

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Because standing there, watching me with eyes I had once known better than my own reflection, was “Darian Hendres”.