The Ropes of Truth

Chapter Seven – The Ropes of Truth

Tristan

Tristan shut the infirmary door behind him, the weight of his wolf pressing hard against his chest. Thorne prowled, restless, snarling with need. She is ours. Ours. Claim her now.

Tristan ignored the voice, his jaw hardening. The woman tied to the bed was no ordinary trespasser—he knew her face, her presence. She was Evandra Johnson, Luna of the Pearl Pack. Or she had been.

And now she was here. Broken. Alone. Reeking of rogue blood.

He stepped closer, his eyes sharp and unforgiving. “Why are you here?” he demanded, voice like steel. “Did you betray your pack? Are you running with rogues now?”

Evandra’s breath hitched. Her lip trembled, though she tried to steel it. “I didn’t—” Her voice cracked, breaking like glass. “I didn’t betray anyone.”

Tears welled, spilling before she could stop them. Her body shook against the restraints, shoulders curling in as the weight of his words pressed down. “I just… I just lost everything.” She said it through sobs as she turned her face away from him.

Tristan’s chest tightened, though he forced his face to remain impassive. Thorne raged inside him, snarling at her tears, aching to comfort her. Tristan ground his teeth. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Evandra squeezed her eyes shut, sobs trembling through her body. “How can this even be happening? Another mate bond? So soon?” She pressed her bound hands to her face, voice breaking. “Has the pain of rejection even left me? I thought the goddess had already destroyed me.”

Something flickered in Tristan’s gaze, but he stayed silent, waiting.

Finally, Evandra dropped her hands, looking at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her voice steadied with something sharp, something desperate. “If you don’t believe me, send your Beta to Pearl Pack. See for yourself. There’s a new woman at Jalen’s side already.”

Tristan stiffened. Jalen. The Alpha of Pearl. The one who had stood cold beside her at the gala, a statue while his Luna had shone alone.

Evandra drew in a shuddering breath. “Go into the woods near your border. You’ll find the bodies of the rogues I killed. Three of them. I fought them to survive. And you’ll find the little home I built—wood, moss, scraps—everything I could manage just to keep myself alive through the storms. It’s in shambles now, but I’m certain the pieces are still there.”

Her eyes filled again, but she forced the words out. “I wasn’t going to bother anyone. I wasn’t going to trespass. I was going to live there, in between pack borders, and disappear. But the rogues… there were too many. They drove me out.”

Silence thickened between them. Only her ragged breathing filled the room.

Tristan’s fists clenched at his sides, torn between fury and disbelief. Evandra Johnson, the once-proud Luna, reduced to this? His wolf snarled at him, demanding he release her, protect her, claim her.

But Tristan’s voice came out hard, colder than he meant. “If your words are true, they can be proven. If they are lies, you’ll answer for them.”

He turned sharply toward the door, though his heart thundered in his chest. He needed space—away from her scent, away from her eyes that made his wolf howl.

Behind him, tied to the bed, Evandra closed her eyes and whispered to Sage, I told the truth. The rest is in his hands now.