All Chapters of THE ALPHA WHO SCENTED MY SECRET: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Rhydian's POVI don't answer her right away. I can't, not until I've steadied myself enough to say the name out loud without my voice betraying exactly how much it costs me."Voss was my father's name for the woman who nearly destroyed three packs along the northern border, twenty-two years ago," I finally say. "Before I was born. She vanished after the last of those wars ended, presumed dead by everyone who survived her. My father spoke of her exactly twice in my whole life, and both times he looked like a man remembering something he'd rather have stayed buried. Once, when I was young enough that I mistook the story for something out of a book rather than his own history. The second time, the week before he died, when I asked him directly why he never spoke of the war years, and he told me some things are better left where you buried them, and changed the subject before I could ask anything further."Wren's face goes bloodless. "She's not dead.""No," I say slowly, the shape of a mu

Rhydian's POVThe council chamber fills faster than I've ever seen it fill, word of the letter apparently spreading through the pack before I've even finished reading it a second time myself."It's obviously a trap," Sable says, pacing the length of the table, unable to sit still with the shape of what we're facing. "Miller's Ridge sits in contested territory, half a day's run from both our border and Ashgrove's. Neutral ground on paper. In practice, it's exactly the kind of place you'd choose if you wanted room to bring more people than you claimed you would.""Agreed," I say. "Which doesn't change the fact that we can't simply ignore it. If Wren doesn't show, Calloway's already promised our protection here won't hold. Given what we now know about Voss's patience and reach, I don't think that's an empty threat.""So we walk into an obvious trap because the alternative is waiting for the trap to come find us instead," Tomas says, grim. "Wonderful options all around.""We don't walk in

Wren's POVThe handwriting inside is nothing like I expected. I braced myself for something jagged, something that looked as cruel as the woman in my dream sounded, and instead I find careful, elegant script, each letter formed with the patience of someone who has never once in her life felt rushed by anything. It's almost beautiful, which somehow makes it worse, like finding out the monster under your bed writes love letters in her spare time.Little ember. I've waited twenty-two years to write this letter, and I find myself almost sentimental now that the moment has finally come.Your mother fought harder than most. I want you to know that, since nobody else alive will tell you honestly. She held the door against me longer than anyone I've faced in three decades of collecting what I'm owed, and if your brother hadn't been so eager to prove his own worth to me, I believe she might have actually won. A pity, really. I would have liked to see it.You've been busy, little ember. Remembe

Wren's POVI spend the hours after Rhydian leaves for the mill pacing the length of my room, unable to settle into training or sleep or anything resembling calm, Voss's letter still sitting folded on my desk like something radioactive I can't quite bring myself to touch again. Every time I close my eyes, I see that elegant, patient handwriting, hear my mother's voice from the dream gasping out a name I never wanted to know, and I understand, somewhere under the fear, that I'm not going to find any real peace again until this is finished, one way or another.Corwin's warning about a second informant echoes through every interaction I have that morning, and I hate the way it makes me look at people I've come to trust, cataloguing small details that suddenly feel suspicious rather than simply ordinary. A servant who lingers a moment too long near the council chamber door. A guard who asks slightly too many questions about the training schedule. I know it's paranoia talking, know that fea

Wren's POVThe two days pass in a blur of training so intense I fall into bed each night too exhausted to dream, which is its own strange mercy after everything Voss's letter stirred back to the surface.Corwin pushes me harder than he ever has, drilling the same sequence over and over until the fire answers not just readily but instantly, no hesitation, no gap between intention and result. "In a real fight, you won't have time to ask permission from your own gift," he tells me, again and again, until the words themselves start to feel like part of the exercise. "It has to already know the answer before you finish forming the question.""What if I get it wrong?" I ask him, during one of the rare pauses between drills, my arms aching from hours of controlled effort. "What if instinct answers the wrong way, at the wrong moment, and I hurt someone I never meant to?""Then you'll learn from it, the same way every wolf in this pack learned to control their first shift by occasionally getti