Chapter 39: Unspoken Truths
The heavy metal door groaned as it creaked open, revealing the hidden tunnel behind the cellar wall. Rowan held a lantern in one hand and a blade in the other, his steps measured as he moved into the darkness. The scent of mildew and damp earth filled his lungs, each breath heavier than the last.
He ducked beneath a low archway, shoulders brushing moss-covered stone. The air grew colder the farther he walked, the tunnel narrowing in places, the ceiling pressing down like a weight he couldn’t shake. His boots splashed quietly through shallow puddles lining the uneven ground.
His wolf stirred in his chest. ‘This wasn’t used recently… not by many,’ the beast muttered.
“But it was used,” Rowan replied under his breath, scanning the walls for signs of passage. He caught faint claw marks etched into stone—fresh. And faint smears of dried mud. Someone had come through here. More than one.
He kept moving.
The tunnel curved sharply before beginning a gradual ascent. The temperature shifted with it, the faintest breeze teasing the ends of his hair. He picked up his pace. After what felt like a half-hour, the tunnel ended abruptly in a crumbling, vine-covered wall. Rowan pressed his hand against it. The stone gave way with a soft grind, revealing the dense forest beyond.
He stepped out, blinking against the soft gray light of early morning.
Birdsong filtered through the branches, but it couldn’t mask the rising dread in his gut.
Rowan turned slowly, letting his gaze sweep the clearing.
A snapped branch. A pawprint. The faint, lingering scent of blood.
His heart stuttered.
This place—it was the exact spot where Beta Kalen had found the shredded cloak. The very edge of the territory where they believed the rogues had entered.
His breath hitched.
‘The tunnel leads straight out of the pack… and right into their hands.’
His wolf snarled low and furious. ‘She didn’t stand a chance.’
Rowan gritted his teeth and scanned the horizon. “Malric…” he whispered. “You let them in.”
He didn’t need further proof—not yet. But this… this was the beginning.
Rowan turned on his heel and marched back into the tunnel, lantern raised high, determination burning in his veins.
He would return to the pack and confront the Elders again. But first, he’d find Sylah.
They had work to do.
Rowan’s boots splashed through the shallow water pooling along the cracked stone floor, his lantern casting jagged shadows along the damp walls.
The air down here was colder now. Not from the environment, but from the weight of what he had just uncovered—the truth slithering beneath his territory like rot beneath the surface of a tree. The scent of blood and betrayal still clung to his senses, as if the tunnel had soaked it in over time and never let it go.
His wolf paced behind his eyes, claws scratching across the inside of his skull. ’They knew. Malric knew. This was no accident.’
Rowan didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His jaw was clenched too tightly, the fury in his gut knotting with a sick sort of clarity.
‘And Elia…’ his wolf growled. ‘She used this path. She walked right through the heart of our home to deliver our mate to the enemy.’
“We don’t know that,” Rowan muttered, the sound of his voice swallowed by the low tunnel ceiling.
But doubt had no space to breathe anymore—not when Giselle was gone, not when the tunnel spilled out only feet from where she’d vanished. He stopped, hand dragging along the wall as he steadied his breath. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, a rhythm that didn’t soothe.
His wolf growled again, low and deep. ‘We were supposed to protect her. We failed.’
“No,” Rowan said aloud, his voice like gravel. “They failed.”
The tunnel’s cold breath still clung to Rowan’s skin as he stepped back into the shadowy stillness of the cells. Dirt clung to his boots, his cloak was damp, and the lantern’s light flickered weakly in the dim corridor. He expected silence.
Instead, Beta Kalen stood stiffly just outside the last cell door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw locked in frustration.
Rowan slowed his steps immediately, the change in air between them unmistakable. “What is it?” he asked, voice low, sharp.
Kalen didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked over Rowan, noting the dirt, the sweat, the blood that hadn’t quite dried from earlier. When he finally spoke, his tone was grim. “Elia’s missing.”
Rowan froze. “Missing? As in—?”
“As in vanished, without a trace. No one saw her leave. And the Elders… they’re already pointing fingers.”
Rowan narrowed his eyes, his wolf stirring restlessly at the edge of his control. “At who?”
Kalen met his gaze evenly. “Sylah.”
A growl slipped past Rowan’s lips before he could stop it.
“She’s been arrested. Just after she questioned the guards from that night. Two of them were caught trying to destroy their shift logs. She confronted them. Ten minutes later, she was in chains.”
“Dammit,” Rowan hissed, already turning away. “Come on. We’ll talk in the office. Not here.”
They moved quickly through the halls, silence heavy between them until they reached Rowan’s office. He slammed the door shut behind them and twisted the lock. The room’s soundproofing wrapped around them like a thick fog.
“She’s being framed,” Rowan muttered as he tossed his cloak over the back of a chair and paced. “I followed that tunnel, Kalen. It comes out near where we found Giselle’s trail cut off. That tunnel… it was used. Recently. And I’d bet everything I have it’s how they got her out.”
Kalen’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “There’s more?”
Rowan nodded, gripping the edge of his desk. “Sylah told me Elia and Malric have been meeting in secret. She didn’t know why, but she suspected something wasn’t right. She also said Malric was the one who changed her shift the night of the attack. He pulled her from the ridge—last minute.”
Kalen swore under his breath. “She said that to me too. That it didn’t sit right. But she didn’t have proof. She said she was trying to find out more—then she was gone.”
Rowan’s hands curled into fists.
“And now Elia’s conveniently disappeared, and they’re pinning it on the only person asking the right questions.”
“We need to get Sylah out,” Kalen said. “She’s the only one besides us who knows what’s going on. If they silence her—”
“They won’t,” Rowan cut in. His voice was ice. “Because if they try, I will burn this entire pack to the ground.” His wolf snarled in agreement, pacing just beneath the surface, itching for blood.
“I need you to keep eyes on Malric,” Rowan added. “Discreetly. No mistakes. And I want a record of who’s guarding Sylah. No rotations without my approval. We protect her like she’s our Luna.”
Kalen nodded, understanding without needing more explanation. “And Elia?” he asked.
Rowan’s jaw ticked. “She’s not gone,” he said. “She’s hiding. Or being hidden. But I’ll find her too. And when I do…” His voice dropped to a growl. “We’ll see how deep this treachery goes.”
They stood in silence for a long moment.
Then Rowan straightened. “Start gathering everything you can. We’re going to war, Kalen. Maybe not today. But soon.”
And this time, he would be ready.
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