Chapter 236
You can plan for war. You can brace for blood. But no one ever prepares you for betrayal that wears a familiar face.
His name was Derek.
Two winters ago, we found him half-dead in the borderlands. He’d been mauled by rogues, his memory broken in shards. Roman gave the order to save him. I stood at his bedside for nights, whispering comfort while the fever raged. Nessa helped him walk again. Wyatt personally vouched for his placement in the patrol corps.
And now, that same man stood cuffed in the main hall.
Head high.
Eyes cold.
Not even pretending to be sorry.
Roman’s voice cut through the stunned silence. “Tell them what you told me.”
Derek looked at me. “It wasn’t personal.”
That made me want to laugh. Or scream. Or both.
“Not personal?” I said. “You nearly blew up our grain stores. You lured one of our pups into the woods. You were sending out signals to gods-know-who in the Deadlands—and you think this wasn’t personal?”
His jaw ticked. “I repaid what I owed.”
“To who?” Roman asked, stepping forward. “Who are you working for?”
Derek glanced down, then smirked.
“They don’t go by names. Only by purpose.”
I stiffened. “A new faction?”
“No,” he said. “An old one. Buried. Forgotten. But not dead.”
He didn’t say anything else.
Roman’s fists clenched. “Take him to the vault. Triple guard. No visitors.”
As the guards dragged him away, his voice echoed behind him.
“You can’t save them all, Luna. And the ones you do—those are the ones that’ll ruin you.”
Later, I sat in my quarters with the fire barely burning.
My hands trembled slightly as I peeled the leather gloves from my fingers. They were still stained from patrol earlier—smeared with dust and sweat and guilt.
Roman entered quietly. “Wyatt’s sweeping the records. We’ll trace where Derek was passing messages. But it won’t be easy.”
“Was he ever ours?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
Roman didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe we just made him comfortable long enough to forget.”
“I vouched for him,” I said bitterly. “I was there when he woke up. I told him he was home.”
“You told him the truth,” Roman said, sitting beside me. “He just didn’t know how to live in it.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
Not really.
But I rested my head on his shoulder, let his silence be enough.
We didn’t speak for a long while.
The next morning, I stood before the pack at dawn.
There was no ceremony this time. No torches. No celebration.
Just honesty.
“We gave shelter to someone who betrayed us,” I said, voice echoing through the courtyard. “We saved a man who chose to harm the very people who risked their lives for him. I won’t make excuses. We failed.”
Wolves murmured. Some nodded grimly. Others just stared, waiting.
“But let me be clear,” I continued, “this betrayal doesn’t make us weak. It proves exactly what we’re willing to risk for the sake of compassion. And I would rather make the same mistake a hundred times than become a pack that closes its doors to those who cry for help.”
Silence.
Then someone stepped forward.
Nessa.
She stood straight, voice firm. “We don’t measure strength by how few wounds we carry. We measure it by how we survive them.”
That sparked something.
A few claps.
A few proud, tired smiles.
And I knew—right then—we hadn’t lost their faith.
Not yet.
Wyatt called me to the archives just before midday.
He looked grim, holding a scroll in one hand and a splintered communicator crystal in the other.
“I cracked the signal pattern Derek was using,” he said. “It’s old tech. Pre-Council. No modern encryption. But it’s not the tech that’s the problem.”
He handed me the scroll. “This is.”
I unrolled it carefully.
It wasn’t a message.
It was a map.
Not of our land—but of tunnels. Ruins. Old wolf camps. Forgotten rebel hideouts. All under our territory.
“There’s at least six access points he knew about,” Wyatt said. “At least two beneath our own patrol towers.”
My blood ran cold.
“And that’s not all,” he added. “One of the ruins he marked—‘Wyrmhold’—that was Halrick’s old outpost. Before he joined the council.”
I stared at the map.
An older threat. Deeper roots. Connected to Halrick.
“Are we being watched?” I asked quietly.
Wyatt nodded. “More than likely. They’ve been under our feet this whole time.”
That night, I called an emergency strategy circle.
Roman. Nessa. Wyatt. Ella. And two trusted scouts from the northern range.
I spread the map across the war table.
“This isn’t just about one rogue spy,” I said. “This is a network. We’re not looking at a broken council anymore. We’re looking at an enemy that remembers us from another era.”
Roman tapped one of the ruins. “This one—Wyrmhold. That’s where we start.”
“We can’t take everyone,” Wyatt added. “Too much movement might trigger them.”
Nessa looked at me. “Who goes in?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Us.”
Roman nodded. “Small team. Silent strike. No warning. We get in, uncover what we can, and destroy the network from within.”
“And if they’re expecting us?” Ella asked.
I looked around the room. At these people who had bled for me. Who I would bleed for.
“Then they’ll find out we’re not the same pack we used to be.”
Later, Roman found me alone again, this time on the tower roof.
He stood beside me, looking out at the forest, the rooftops, the moonsilver sky.
“I hate that this is becoming normal,” I said.
“What is?”
“Choosing who we trust. Who we don’t. Watching every smile like it might carry a dagger behind it.”
He nodded slowly. “You know the first time I realized I was an Alpha?”
“When?”
“When I had to punish someone I once called brother.”
That pulled at something deep in me.
He turned to me. “You’re not losing yourself, Iris. You’re refining yourself. Fire doesn’t destroy gold. It reveals it.”
I laughed softly. “I sound more dangerous when you say things like that.”
“You are dangerous,” he said. “You just don’t weaponize it unless someone gives you a reason.”
I turned to him, placing a hand on his chest.
“I’m tired, Roman.”
“I know,” he said. “But we’re not done.”
“No,” I agreed. “We’re just getting started.”
And in the distance, beyond the trees, beneath the earth…
Something waited.
But this time, we would be the ones knocking first.
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