Chapter 30 – The Betrayal at the Border
The silence was thick inside the cell, broken only by the faint dripping of water somewhere deep within the stone. Giselle stood in front of the strange woman who had come to take her out of her, wariness settling into her bones.
Giselle took a step back.
Something wasn’t right.
Her wolf stirred uneasily, hackles raised. ‘This is strange’, she whispered inside her. ‘It could be a trick.’
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately follow a stranger into the dark,” Giselle replied, trying to keep her voice calm despite the tension building in her chest.
The woman nodded, as if she expected the hesitation. “You’re right to be cautious,” she said. “But Rowan trusts me. He told me to get you out before it’s too late.” Her gaze flicked toward the stairs. “And believe me, girl, it’s almost too late.”
There was something in her voice that made Giselle’s stomach twist. Finality. Urgency.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” she asked.
The woman stepped closer to the bars, lowering her voice.
“He told me you like the river that runs behind the packhouse. That you snuck out once because your wolf needed to feel the forest again. That you fought to save a warrior’s life when you didn’t have to.” She paused, locking eyes with Giselle. “And he told me that if I could get you out of here, he’d trade anything—everything—to keep you safe.”
Giselle’s breath caught. Her wolf shifted inside her, pacing. ‘She knows too much. Is it possible that she’s telling the truth?’
Still… doubt clung to her like a second skin.
The woman pulled a small key from beneath her cloak and slid it into the cell’s lock. The bolt gave with a soft click, the sound louder than thunder in the stillness.
“Your choice,” the woman said, stepping back and opening the door wide. “But if you stay, you may not have another chance.”
Giselle stared at the open door.
Her freedom lay just a few steps away.
And still—she hesitated.
This wasn’t how she imagined her release. No roaring confrontation. No Rowan at her side, tearing down the walls for her. Just this quiet woman and a key, and a chance she hadn’t expected.
‘We need to go,’ her wolf whispered, more urgent now. ‘We don’t know what’s coming, but I know it’s worse than this. Please.’
Giselle stepped forward, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. She paused in the doorway and glanced up the corridor, half-expecting someone to appear and shout at them to stop.
Nothing.
“Where are we going?” she asked, voice barely a breath.
The woman turned and gestured to a section of wall at the far end of the corridor. She pressed her palm against the stone. With a groan, the wall shuddered—and then slid inward, revealing a narrow passage behind it, barely wide enough for a grown person.
“A way out,” the woman replied. “One the Elders forgot even existed.” Without another word, she stepped inside.
Giselle hesitated one last time. Then she followed, the wall closing behind her.
The stone passage was long and winding, twisting beneath the packhouse like a forgotten artery. Dust clung to the walls, cobwebs brushed her shoulders, and every footstep echoed louder than the last. Giselle kept close behind the strange woman, every sense on alert, but with each step, her wolf began to settle.
‘Freedom. Finally.’
“You never told me your name,” Giselle said softly, trying to fill the silence.
The woman didn’t glance back. “Names are dangerous right now. Best you don’t know mine.”
That answer set her nerves tingling again, but she bit her tongue. They climbed a crumbling stone stairwell that led up into the forest. When they emerged, moonlight poured down through a canopy of pine trees, silvering the underbrush. The cool wind kissed her skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Giselle breathed deeply—earth, pine, and freedom.
‘Thank the goddess,’ her wolf sighed. ‘Let’s run. Just for a minute. Please.’
“We’re almost at the border,” the woman said suddenly, voice tight. “From there, you’re safe.”
Giselle frowned. “The border?”
“I was told to lead you out, away from the pack. Rowan said it would be safer for you on the other side—just until he can set things right.”
That didn’t make sense.
Her steps slowed. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that himself?”
The woman didn’t answer.
The hair on the back of Giselle’s neck rose. She turned to question her further—just as a figure stepped out from the trees ahead.
Her breath caught.
Cold dread replaced the hope in her chest.
The rogue leader.
He looked exactly as he had that night in the woods. Towering and broad-shouldered, scars slicing across one side of his face like cruel reminders of a thousand battles. His dark eyes glittered with malice under the moonlight.
“You’ve grown soft, little wolf,” he sneered, stepping forward.
Before she could shift or run, a rough hand clamped around her upper arm, yanking her against him.
Giselle snarled and fought, twisting her body with everything she had—but the leader was too strong. “Let me go!” she screamed, kicking at his legs, but he didn’t budge.
“Not tonight,” he growled, yanking her tighter against him. “You’ve done your part beautifully.”
A low whistle echoed through the trees, and five rogue wolves darted past them, sleek and silent as shadows. They crossed the border with ease, heading straight for the pack’s heart—toward the celebration.
“No,” Giselle gasped. “No—what are you doing?!”
“Your precious Alpha is too busy smiling next to his almost-Luna,” the leader said, grinning cruelly. “His guard is down. The pack is vulnerable. And now... so are you.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. This had all been a trap. The woman. The escape. The hidden door.
‘We walked right into it,’ her wolf whispered in horror. ‘We let them use us.’
“You used me,” she breathed, shaking with fury. “You used me to attack Rowan’s pack!”
He grinned. “And it worked, didn’t it?” The rogue leader dragged her backwards, retreating into the trees as the rest of his wolves melted into the shadows.
Giselle twisted and thrashed, biting down on his arm, drawing blood—but he only laughed.
“You’ll come with me quietly,” he said, voice ice-cold now. “Or your mother and sister die.”
Her blood ran cold.
“I’ve kept them alive this long, haven’t I?” he added, eyes flashing. “You’ve served your purpose once. You’ll do it again.”
“No,” she whispered. “I won’t help you hurt them.”
He leaned down close, his breath foul in her ear.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Then they vanished into the forest—leaving behind the sound of distant howls, the scent of blood on the wind, and the beginning of a war she had tried desperately to prevent.
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