Chapter Two: Buried Secrets

The drive to Blackwood Forest takes twelve minutes that feel like hours.

Sera sits in the passenger seat of Dante's truck, hyperaware of every breath he takes, every shift of his hands on the steering wheel. She's borrowed a jacket from one of the pack members—oversized and smelling of unfamiliar wolf. It makes her skin crawl.

"You're sure about the message?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Thomas called me an hour before he died." Dante's knuckles are white on the wheel. "He said if anything happened to him, I needed to check the oak tree. That he'd left insurance."

"Insurance against what?"

"He didn't say. The line went dead." Dante's jaw clenches. "By the time I tracked his scent to the mill, he was already gone."

Sera closes her eyes. Thomas had been kind to her once, before everything went wrong. Before the night that tore their world apart.

"How did Maya know to call me?" she asks.

"She didn't. Not from me." Dante glances at her. "I told everyone you were dead to me. That your name wasn't to be spoken in pack territory."

The words sting, even though Sera knows he meant them as protection.

"Then how—"

"Maya's smarter than we gave her credit for. She must have pieced it together. The timing of the deaths, the connection to that night." He turns onto a dirt road, trees closing in on both sides. "She always suspected there was more to your exile than we told people."

The forest grows denser. Sera's wolf stirs, recognizing the territory. They're close.

"Dante, if someone really did dig up the evidence—"

"Then we're both dead," he finishes. "Along with everyone else who was there."

The clearing appears through the trees. Dante parks at the edge, killing the engine. For a moment, neither of them moves.

"I haven't been back here since that night," Sera whispers.

"Neither have I."

They get out together. The clearing looks different in daylight—smaller, less ominous. The old oak tree still stands at the center, its branches spreading like gnarled fingers against the sky.

Dante pulls a shovel from his truck bed. "Thomas said the north side of the tree, three feet down."

They walk to the oak in silence. Sera's heart pounds as Dante starts to dig. Every shovelful of earth feels like they're excavating their own graves.

"There." Dante drops to his knees, brushing dirt away from something metallic. A small lockbox, rusted but intact.

He pulls it free and sets it on the ground between them. The lock is simple—Dante breaks it with one sharp twist.

Inside, there's a phone. Old model, wrapped in plastic.

"No," Sera breathes. "Thomas kept it. He swore he destroyed it."

Dante powers it on. The battery is dead, but he produces a portable charger from his pocket—he came prepared. They wait in agonizing silence as the phone charges enough to boot up.

When the screen finally lights up, Dante opens the photo gallery.

There are seventeen photos. All taken the night of Sera's exile.

"Oh God," Sera whispers.

The first photo shows the pack council gathered in this exact clearing. Sera recognizes every face—including her own, younger, terrified, on her knees in the center of the circle.

"Keep going," she says, even though every instinct screams at her to look away.

Dante swipes through. The photos tell a story: the council's verdict, Sera's sentencing, and then—

"There," Dante stops on a photo that changes everything.

It shows Council Elder Marcus shifting into his wolf form, lunging not at Sera, but at another pack member. A young wolf who'd spoken up in Sera's defense.

The next photo shows blood. So much blood.

"Connor Davis," Sera says numbly. "They told everyone he transferred to the Montana pack."

"They killed him." Dante's voice is hollow. "Right here in this clearing. Because he tried to stop them from executing you."

"And Thomas photographed it all."

The remaining photos are worse. They show the council members dragging Connor's body away. Elder Marcus washes blood from his hands in the stream. And finally, a group shot—the five council members standing together, satisfaction on their faces.

"This is why Thomas is dead," Dante says. "Why are they all dying. Someone knows he had evidence of murder."

"But who?" Sera wraps her arms around herself. "Everyone in these photos is either dead or on the council. Unless—"

A twig snaps behind them.

They both whirl. A woman steps out of the tree line, her blonde hair pulled back, her blue eyes cold as ice.

Sera's blood freezes. "Celeste."

Dante rises slowly, putting himself between Sera and the newcomer. "What are you doing here?"

Celeste smiles, but there's no warmth in it. "I could ask you the same thing, Alpha. Shouldn't you be planning your mating ceremony? I hear the council has some lovely candidates lined up."

"Answer the question," Dante growls.

"I've been following you. Ever since I heard that little Sera Blackwood had crawled back into town." Celeste's eyes narrow. "Imagine my surprise when the alpha himself rushes off to the woods with his exiled ex-mate."

Sera's wolf bristles. Celeste had been one of Dante's strongest pack members five years ago—ambitious, ruthless, and utterly loyal to the council.

"This doesn't concern you," Sera says.

"Oh, but it does." Celeste takes a step closer. "You see, I know what you're looking for. And I know what you found."

Dante shifts his stance, ready to fight. "How?"

"Thomas was sloppy. Before he died, he sent out a message to several pack members, telling them about his 'insurance policy.'" Celeste's smile widens. "I was one of them. He thought he could trust me."

"You killed him," Sera breathes.

"Me? No." Celeste laughs. "But I know who did. And trust me, compared to what's coming, Thomas got off easy."

Dante's eyes flash gold. "Tell me who."

"Why would I do that? I'm rather enjoying watching the pack tear itself apart." Celeste tilts her head. "But I'll make you a deal, Alpha. Give me what's in that box, and I'll tell you which council member has been ordering the hits."

"Why do you want it?" Dante asks.

"Same reason Thomas kept it. Insurance." Celeste's voice hardens. "The council has been running this pack like their personal kingdom for too long. It's time for new blood. Younger blood."

"You want to stage a coup," Sera says.

"I want to survive. There's a difference." Celeste holds out her hand. "The phone, Alpha. Now."

Dante doesn't move. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I tell the council that you've been harboring Sera Blackwood. That you've been keeping evidence of their crimes. That your precious beta was a traitor." Celeste's eyes glitter. "How long do you think you'd last as alpha once they know?"

The threat hangs in the air.

"You're bluffing," Dante says. "If you expose us, you expose yourself. You were there that night too."

"I was following orders. There's a difference between a soldier and a commander." Celeste steps forward. "Last chance, Dante. The phone, or I go to the council right now."

Sera's mind races. If Celeste goes to the council, they're dead. But if they give her the phone, they lose their only leverage.

"Wait," Sera says. "You said you know who's ordering the killings. Prove it. Tell us one name."

Celeste considers this. "Fine. Elder Marcus himself. Happy now?"

"Marcus is dead," Dante says flatly. "He died eight months ago. Heart attack."

Celeste's confident expression falters. Just for a second, but it's enough.

"You're lying," Sera says. "You don't know who the killer is."

"Of course I do—"

"No." Dante's voice is cold. "You're fishing. You know about the phone, but you don't know what's on it. You don't know who's behind the murders."

Celeste's hand drops. "It doesn't matter. I still have enough to destroy you both."

"Do it then," Dante challenges. "Go to the council. Tell them everything. But know this—the second you do, I'll make sure every wolf in this territory sees what's on this phone. Your coup dies before it starts."

They stare at each other, locked in a standoff.

Finally, Celeste laughs. "You always were a stubborn bastard, Dante. Fine. Keep your evidence. But when the killer comes for you—and they will—don't say I didn't warn you."

She turns and walks back into the trees, disappearing as silently as she came.

Sera releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. "We can't trust her."

"I know." Dante pockets the phone. "But she's right about one thing. Someone's coming for us."

"What do we do?"

Dante looks at her, and for the first time since she arrived, she sees the wolf she used to love—fierce, protective, and absolutely terrified.

"We do what we should have done five years ago," he says. "We fight back."

He reaches for her hand, and this time she takes it.

"Together?" she asks.

"Together."

They start walking back to the truck, but Sera's wolf suddenly goes on high alert. A scent on the wind—unfamiliar, wrong.

"Dante."

He smells it too. His body tenses. "Get behind me."

"What is it?"

"Blood."

They move together through the trees, following the scent. It leads them to a small ravine fifty yards from the clearing.

At the bottom, crumpled against the rocks, is a body.

"Oh God," Sera whispers.

It's a young woman, maybe twenty-five, her throat torn open. But that's not what makes Sera's stomach heave.

The symbol carved into her shoulder—the same three intersecting lines they saw on the rabid wolf—is fresh, still bleeding.

"We need to call this in," Dante says, but his voice sounds distant.

Sera can't look away from the woman's face. There's something familiar about her features, about the shape of her eyes.

"Dante," she says slowly. "Do you recognize her?"

He crouches down, careful not to disturb the scene. After a moment, his face goes white.

"Her name is Rebecca Chen. She joined the pack two years ago from California."

"Why do I recognize her?"

Dante meets her eyes. "Because she looks exactly like Connor Davis. Same eyes, same face shape."

The pieces click into place in Sera's mind.

"Sister?" she whispers.

"Cousin, according to her file. But she never mentioned the connection. She said she was here for work."

"She was lying." Sera's heart pounds. "She came here looking for Connor. And someone killed her for it."

Dante stands, pulling out his phone. "This changes everything. The killer isn't cleaning up loose ends from five years ago."

"Then what are they doing?"

He looks at her, and in his eyes she sees the terrible truth.

"They're hunting anyone connected to Connor Davis. Which means—"

"Connor had a family," Sera finishes. "And they're all in danger."

Dante's phone rings. He answers, listens, and his face goes from white to gray.

"Understood. I'm on my way."

He ends the call and turns to Sera. "That was Maya. There's been another attack."

"Who?"

"David Chen. Rebecca's brother. He's in the hospital, barely alive." Dante's jaw clenches. "Sera, he's asking for you."

"For me? Why would he—"

"Because before he lost consciousness, he said five words: 'Sera Blackwood knows the truth.'"

The forest suddenly feels too small, the trees pressing in from all sides.

"I don't understand," Sera says. "I've never met David Chen. I didn't even know Connor had family."

"Well, he seems to think you know something." Dante grabs her hand. "We need to get to that hospital now. Before the killer finishes what they started."

They run back to the truck. As Dante starts the engine, Sera's phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

She opens it and her blood turns to ice.

It's a photo of Maya, taken from a distance. Her cousin is walking to her car, completely unaware she's being watched.

Below the photo, a message: She's next. Unless you give me what I want.

Sera shows Dante the screen.

His hands tighten on the wheel. "What do they want?"

"I don't know. They haven't said—"

Her phone buzzes again. Another text: The phone. Midnight. Old mill. Come alone, or Maya dies.

Dante floors the accelerator. "We need to get Maya somewhere safe."

"And then what? We can't give them the phone. It's the only evidence we have."

"We also can't let them kill your cousin."

They're speeding through the forest when Sera's wolf senses something wrong. A heartbeat before it happens, she screams: "Dante, stop!"

He slams the brakes. The truck skids to a halt inches from a wire stretched across the road—trip wire, nearly invisible in the fading light.

"Trap," Dante breathes.

The trees around them explode with movement. Wolves—six, seven, eight of them—pour onto the road, surrounding the truck.

But these aren't normal wolves. Their eyes glow that same feral yellow, foam dripping from their jaws.

"More rabid wolves," Sera says. "This isn't natural. Someone's creating them."

"Can you fight?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Dante's smile is all teeth. "That's my girl."

They shift in unison, bursting from the truck just as the first rabid wolf lunges.