Chapter Five – Answers

Tomorrow wasn't good enough.

Fiona's hands were still shaking as she climbed the stairs to the second floor of their

home, her wet clothes clinging to her skin, river water dripping onto the hardwood. She

should shower. Should change. Should do something to make herself presentable

before confronting the Alpha of the Moon River Pack.

But the wolf in her mind was still too close to the surface, still humming with residual

power, and Fiona couldn't wait another moment. Not when her father had answers. Not

when he'd been keeping secrets that could have prepared her for what just happened.

Kieran's study was at the end of the hall, behind a heavy oak door that was usually

closed during pack business. The light was on—she could see it bleeding out from

underneath. He was in there. Probably reviewing patrol reports or handling pack

finances or doing any of the thousand other things an Alpha did to keep his people safe.

Fiona didn't knock. She shoved the door open hard enough that it banged against the

wall, and Kieran looked up from his desk with a start.

"Fiona—"

"What am I?" The words came out raw, desperate. "What the hell am I, Dad?"

Kieran went very still. His eyes—the same green as hers, as Siobhan's, as their

mother's had been—swept over her, taking in her disheveled appearance, her wet

clothes, the wild look in her eyes.

Inside Kieran's mind, Cian surged forward with sudden, visceral recognition. The scent

hit him like a physical blow—silver wolf. The same scent that had clung to Elara, the

same blessed power that had marked his mate. Cian's grief roared to life, a howl of

anguish and protective fury that made Kieran's hands clench on the desk.

Our daughter, Cian snarled with desperate understanding. She shifted. The silver wolf

manifested. PROTECT HER. MUST PROTECT HER.

She watched understanding dawn on his face, watched the color drain from his skin as

both man and wolf processed what this meant.

"Close the door," he said quietly, but his voice carried the weight of Cian's Alpha

authority—the command of a wolf who had lost one silver wolf and would die before

losing another.

"Answer me first."

"Close the door, Fiona." There was Alpha command in his voice now, Cian's dominance

bleeding through every word, the kind that made pack members obey without question.

But Fiona had just obliterated three rogues with a power she didn't understand, and she

was done being obedient.

Still, she kicked the door shut behind her. The click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud

in the sudden silence.

"You shifted," Kieran said. It wasn't a question. Cian was pacing in his mind, agitated

and protective, scenting the residual power that clung to their daughter.

"I shifted." Fiona's voice cracked. "I shifted into something that shouldn't exist. Into a

wolf that's silver, Dad. Silver like moonlight, like starlight, like nothing I've ever seen

before. And when those rogues attacked me, when they had me cornered by the river, I

didn't just fight them off. I unmade them. They're gone. There's nothing left but shadows

on the grass."

She was shaking harder now, her whole body trembling with the force of emotions she

couldn't name. Fear. Rage. Confusion. Relief that she wasn't wolfless after all, terror at

what she'd become instead.

Kieran stood slowly, and Cian drove the movement—the Alpha wolf rising to assess the

 threat, to protect his daughter from whatever danger might follow.  He moved around his

desk toward her with the fluid grace of a predator, every muscle coiled with tension.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." The word came out as a sob. "No, I'm fine, I'm perfect, I'm a fucking monster who

can erase people from existence, and I don't even know how I did it. So I'll ask you

again, Dad—what am I?”

"You're my daughter," Kieran said, and there was so much pain in his voice—both his

and Cian's—that Fiona almost backed down. Almost. Cian's grief was a living thing,

howling through Kieran's words. Our daughter. Our blessed daughter. Like Elara. Like

our mate. "You're Fiona Moonstone, and you're strong and brave and—"

"Don't." She held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't give me platitudes. Don't tell me I'm

special or blessed or any of that bullshit. I want the truth. You knew this could happen. I

saw it in your eyes on my eighteenth birthday, when I didn't shift. You weren't surprised.

You were relieved. So tell me why."

Kieran's jaw tightened, and Cian snarled with the weight of secrets kept too long. For a

long moment, he just looked at her, and Fiona could see the war happening behind his

eyes. The Alpha who kept secrets to protect his pack. The father who wanted to shield

his daughter from painful truths. The wolf who had watched his mate die and would do

anything to prevent the same fate for his daughter.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation—both man and wolf surrendering to

the inevitable. "Sit down."

"I don't want to sit down. I want answers."

"Then you'll get them. But sit down anyway, because this is going to take a while." He

gestured to the leather armchair across from his desk. "Please, Fiona."

The please did it. Fiona had heard her father give orders, make demands, issue

commands with Alpha authority. But she'd rarely heard him say please. She sank into

the chair, her legs suddenly weak, and waited.

Kieran returned to his own chair, but he didn't sit. Instead, he moved to the window,

staring out at the pack lands below. Cian pressed close to the surface, his grief a

palpable presence that made Kieran's shoulders tense, his breathing shallow. When he

spoke, his voice was distant, as if he were looking at something far beyond the present

moment—looking back at Elara, at everything they'd lost.

"Your mother was a silver wolf."

The words hung in the air between them. Fiona's breath caught. Inside Kieran's mind,

Cian howled with remembered loss—the mate bond that had been severed, the she-

wolf who had been taken from them.

“Elara was blessed by the moon goddess," Kieran continued, and his voice cracked

slightly as Cian's grief bled through. "It's rare—so rare that most packs consider

silver wolves to be myth, legend, stories told to pups at bedtime. But they're real.

Your mother was real. And she was extraordinary."

Beautiful, Cian whispered with aching reverence. Powerful. OURS. And they took her

from us.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Fiona's voice was barely a whisper. "Why didn't you warn me

that this could happen?"

"Because I hoped it wouldn't." Kieran turned to face her, and the anguish in his

expression—both human and wolf—made Fiona's chest ache. Cian's pain was written in

every line of Kieran's face, in the way his hands trembled slightly before he clenched

them into fists. "Silver wolves run through the female line. Your grandmother was one.

Your great-grandmother before her. But it doesn't always manifest. Sometimes it skips

generations. Sometimes it appears in one daughter but not another. I thought—I prayed

—that you and Siobhan would be spared."

"Spared?" Fiona stood, anger flaring hot in her chest. "You make it sound like a curse."

"It is." The words were flat, final. "Fiona, silver wolves are blessed by the moon

goddess, yes. They have gifts that other wolves don't—healing, foresight, hindsight.

They can sense things others can't, see paths that haven't been walked yet, understand

truths that are hidden. And they have power. The kind of power you just used on those

rogues. The ability to unmake, to reduce enemies to nothing but shadow and memory."

"That sounds like a gift," Fiona said, but her voice wavered.

"It's a target." Kieran's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Silver wolves are always

female. Always. And they always carry Alpha-level power, regardless of their bloodline.

Do you understand what that means? A female Alpha is rare enough. But a female

Alpha blessed by the moon goddess, capable of bearing offspring more powerful than

any other werewolf in existence?" He shook his head. "You're not just special, Fiona.

You're valuable. And there are people—factions, organizations, hunters—who would do

anything to possess you."

The room tilted. Fiona gripped the arm of the chair, her knuckles going white. "Possess

me?"

"Capture you. Control you. Breed you." Kieran's voice was harsh now, brutal in its

honesty. Inside his mind, Cian snarled with remembered rage—the hunters who had

done exactly this to Elara, who had tried to break his mate. "Silver wolves are hunted,

Fiona. Not to kill—though some would prefer that—but to use. To force into mating

bonds with powerful Alphas, to create bloodlines that could dominate entire regions.

Your children would be weapons. You would be a broodmare."

Bile rose in Fiona's throat. "That's—that can't be—"

"It's exactly what happened to your mother."

The words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of horror through Fiona's entire

body. Cian's howl of anguish echoed through Kieran's consciousness—the memory of

Elara's terror, her pain, the moment the mate bond had been severed forever.

"What?"

Kieran moved back to his desk, his hands trembling slightly as Cian's grief threatened to

overwhelm him. He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a photograph—old, faded, the

edges worn from handling—and held it out to her. Fiona took it with trembling hands.

The woman in the photo was beautiful. Red hair like Fiona's, like Ennis's and Siobhan's,

cascading over her shoulders in waves. Green eyes that sparkled with life and mischief.

She was laughing at something off-camera, her head thrown back, joy radiating from

every line of her face.

"Your mother," Kieran said softly, his voice thick with Cian's grief. "Elara. She was twenty-nine

when this was taken. A year before she died."

"I don't remember her," Fiona whispered. The admission felt like a betrayal. "I was so

young when—"

"You were five." Kieran's voice was rough, Cian's pain bleeding through every word.

"Ennis was seven. Siobhan was three. And your mother knew they were coming for her."

"Who?"

"The hunters. The faction that tracks blessed silver wolves across territories, across

continents if necessary. They'd been watching our pack for months, waiting for

confirmation. When she shifted during a pack run, when her silver fur caught the

moonlight..." He closed his eyes, and Cian's howl of remembered loss made his chest

tighten. "They knew. And they came."

Fiona's hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped the photograph. "What

happened?"

"She led them away." Kieran's voice broke, and Cian's anguish surged forward—the

memory of watching his mate run, knowing she was sacrificing herself, unable to stop

her. "She knew they wanted her alive, knew they'd follow her if she ran. So she did. She

shifted and ran, drawing them away from the pack lands, away from our home. Away

from you and Ennis and Siobhan."

He opened his eyes, and they were wet with unshed tears—both man and wolf weeping

for what they'd lost. "She bought us time. Time to hide you, to protect you,

to make sure they never knew she had daughters who might carry her gift."

"But they killed her anyway.” “They did."

The words were hollow, and Cian's rage flared hot and vicious in Kieran's mind.

"When she wouldn't cooperate. When she refused to tell them about her children,

refused to submit to their plans. They killed her and left her body where we'd find it. A

warning. A message that they'd be back if any more silver wolves appeared in our

bloodline."

Kieran's hands clenched on the desk, his knuckles white. Cian was there, pressing

close to the surface—the memory of holding Elara's cold body, of feeling the mate bond

go silent, of the howl that had torn from both man and wolf as they realized she was

truly gone. The failure. The devastating, crushing failure to protect their mate.

Should have saved her, Cian snarled with anguished fury. Should have died protecting

her. Should never have let them take her.

The photograph slipped from Fiona's fingers, fluttering to the floor. She couldn't breathe.

Couldn't think past the image of her mother—this laughing, beautiful woman she barely

remembered—being hunted like an animal. Being murdered for refusing to become a

breeding tool.

"You should have told me," she said, and her voice was ice. "You should have warned

me that this could happen, that I might be in danger—"

"I was trying to protect you!" Kieran's composure finally cracked, Cian's protective fury

driving his words. "Don't you understand? If you never shifted, if you lived your whole

life as a human or even as a normal wolf, you'd be safe. The hunters only care about

silver wolves. Only about the blessed ones. I thought—I hoped—that if you didn't shift

on your eighteenth birthday, it meant you'd been spared. That you'd live a normal life."

"There's nothing normal about being wolfless in a pack of shifters," Fiona shot back.

"I've spent the last two years being pitied, being whispered about, being treated like I'm broken.

And you let that happen. You let me think there was something wrong with me when all

along, you knew the truth."

"I know." Kieran's shoulders sagged, Cian's grief weighing them down. "I know, and I'm

sorry. But Fiona, you have to understand—I watched them kill your mother. I held her

body and felt her go cold and knew that I'd failed to protect her." His voice cracked, and

Cian's howl of loss echoed through the words. "I couldn't—I wouldn't—let that happen to

you. Or to Siobhan."

The name hung between them like a curse.

"Siobhan," Fiona repeated slowly. "She's seventeen. Her eighteenth birthday is—"

"In two weeks." Kieran's face was gray, Cian's dread palpable. "I know."

"Does she—could she—"

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture weary. "Silver wolves are

unpredictable. You have the gift. Siobhan might not. Or she might. There's no way to know until she shifts. Or doesn't."

Fiona thought of her sister, shallow and vain and obsessed with social media and boys.

Thought of Siobhan facing what she'd just faced, being hunted, being targeted. The idea

was unbearable.

"We have to protect her," she said.

"We will." Kieran's voice was firm now, Alpha-strong, and Cian's determination

reinforced every word. "But first, we have to protect you. No one can know about this,

Fiona. Not yet. Not until we figure out what to do."

"Ennis already suspects something. He saw the shadows."

"I'll handle Ennis. I'll tell him it was a territorial predator, something rare but explainable.

He'll accept that." Kieran moved closer, his eyes intense, Cian's protective instinct

radiating from him. "But you need to be careful. No shifting unless absolutely necessary.

No using your gifts where anyone can see. The hunters have informants everywhere—

in packs, in human cities, even in other supernatural communities. If word gets out that

a silver wolf has appeared in the Moon River Pack..."

"They'll come for me," Fiona finished. "Like they came for Mom."

"Yes." The word was heavy with dread—both man and wolf remembering what the

hunters had done to Elara. "And this time, I won't let them take you. I won't let them hurt

you. But that means you have to be smart, Fiona. You have to be careful."

Fiona looked at her father—really looked at him—and saw the weight he'd been carrying

for years. The guilt. The fear. The desperate need to keep his children safe from a threat

they didn't even know existed. And beneath it all, Cian's unhealed grief, the wound that

would never close.

"I’m sorry," she said quietly. "For barging in here, for demanding answers. I was scared

and angry and—"

"You had every right to be." Kieran pulled her into a hug, and Cian surged forward with

fierce protectiveness—this was Elara's daughter, their pup, and they would die

before letting the hunters take her too.

Fiona let herself lean into him, let herself be held like she was five years old again.

"I should have told you sooner. Should have prepared you. But I was so afraid of losing you

 the way I lost her."

They stood like that for a long moment, father and daughter, both carrying secrets that

could destroy them. Cian pressed close, his presence a shield around them both—

Alpha wolf protecting his pack, his family, his daughter.

Finally, Kieran pulled back, his hands on her shoulders. "We'll figure this out," he said.

"Together. But for now, you need to go shower, change, and act as if nothing happened.

Can you do that?” Fiona nodded, even though the idea of pretending to be normal felt

impossible. "What about dinner? The family dinner?"

"We'll have it. We'll sit at the table and eat and talk about mundane things, and you'll watch

Siobhan be ridiculous about her social media, and everything will be fine."

 His eyes were fierce, Cian's determination burning through them. "Because that's what we do, Fiona. We protect our family by giving them normalcy. By letting them live without fear."

"Even if it's a lie?"

"Especially if it's a lie." Kieran's smile was sad. "Sometimes lies are the kindest gift we

can give."

Fiona picked up the photograph from the floor, studying her mother's face one more

time. Elara—blessed by the moon goddess. Hunted. Killed. But not broken. Never

broken.

"I won't let them take me," Fiona said softly, and Sinead's agreement was fierce in her

mind. "If they come, I'll fight. I'll use every gift the moon goddess gave me, and I'll make

them regret ever hunting our family."

Cian's approval surged through Kieran—Alpha wolf recognizing the warrior spirit in his

daughter, the same fierce determination that had burned in Elara. Strong, Cian

acknowledged with pride. Like her mother. Like Mate. Will fight. Will survive.

"I know you will." Kieran took the photograph and tucked it back into his desk drawer.

"You're your mother's daughter. Strong. Brave. Extraordinary." He paused. "But Fiona?

Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't take unnecessary risks."

"I promise."

It was a lie. They both knew it. But as Kieran said—sometimes lies were the kindest

gift.

 In his study, Cian pressed close to Kieran's consciousness, watching through his eyes

as their daughter walked away. Elara's daughter, the wolf acknowledged with fierce pride

and aching grief. Our daughter. Will protect her. Won't fail again.

Fiona left the study and headed to her room, her mind spinning with everything she'd

learned. Silver wolves. Moon goddess blessings. Hunters who wanted to use her as a

breeding tool. A mother she barely remembered who'd died to protect her.

And somewhere deep inside, Sinead stirred—silver wolf blessed by the moon goddess

connected to Elara's she-wolf through bloodline and destiny. The same power.

The same gift. The same curse.

And in two weeks, Siobhan would shift. Or she wouldn't. And they'd know if the curse—

the gift—had been passed down once again.

Fiona stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the river water, the

blood, the evidence of what she'd done. She caught her reflection in the steamed mirror

—red hair like Elara's, green eyes like her mother's, the same determined set to her jaw.

But the water couldn't wash away the truth.

She was a silver wolf. Blessed and cursed in equal measure.

And the hunters were out there, waiting.

But so was she.