Chapter 48 – Two Weeks to a Lie
The weight of expectation sat heavy on Rowan’s shoulders, suffocating beneath layers of tradition, scrutiny, and deceit.
Two weeks.
That was all that remained until the next full moon—until he was supposed to stand beside Rhea and declare her as his Luna.
A lie the Elders were all too eager to continue on with, despite him announcing that Giselle was his mate in front of the pack.
His office had become a war zone of parchment and protocol. Wedding contracts, seating charts, ceremonial rites, binding oaths—all of it cluttered his desk like a death sentence written in ink.
He hadn’t touched any of it.
Not when Giselle was still out there. Taken. Suffering.
The faint knock at his door barely stirred him, but he lifted his gaze anyway. "Come in."
Rhea stepped inside, her expression neutral but gentle, arms tucked behind her back. Dressed in muted silver and soft leather, she looked every bit the future Luna the Elders wanted her to be.
Rowan straightened in his chair, clearing his throat. “Rhea.”
“You’re avoiding the wedding scrolls again,” she said lightly, eyes flicking to the untouched stack on the edge of his desk.
“Time’s better spent elsewhere,” he muttered, his eyes moving to the maps of the area that he has been pouring over for days.
She stepped closer, pausing beside his chair. “The Elders are pushing harder. Elder Malric especially. He’s started asking me if I’ve chosen my Luna attendants yet.”
Rowan’s jaw ticked at the mention of Elder Malric. “Let him ask. You know this isn’t real.”
“I do,” Rhea said softly, studying him. “But they don’t care whether it is real or not, just that we follow in line with what they want. And we need them to keep believing that we will—for both our sakes.”
He nodded once, fingers drumming against the desk.
The late evening sun bled through the tall windows of Rowan’s private study, streaking the floor with gold and crimson. The air was thick with tension as he got up to pace, hands clenched behind his back, while Rhea leaned against the table behind him.
“You ever feel like you’re choking on your own damn lies?” Rowan asked suddenly, the words laced with venom.
Rhea arched a brow. “Every time I wear a gown for one of the Elder’s staged appearances.”
Rowan let out a bitter chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He paused mid-step and faced her, jaw tight. “I don’t understand why we’re still pretending. Everyone with eyes knows Giselle is my mate. Half the pack already feels it, even if they won’t say it out loud.”
Rhea crossed her arms, calm but calculating. “Because appearances matter. Especially to the Elders. If they admit they were wrong—if they admit a rogue is the fated mate of their Alpha—it’ll rip apart the illusion of their control.”
“I don’t give a damn about their illusion,” Rowan growled. “I care about her. And every day we waste on this farce, she’s getting further away.”
The silence stretched before Rhea finally asked, “Any progress? On Giselle?”
His chest tightened at the name. “No,” he said, voice low. “We followed the trail to the cliffs. It faded right in front of us. Magic was used. Old, cloaking kind. She’s being hidden, but we haven’t been able to figure out where.”
Rhea sank into the seat across from him, her voice quiet. “And you’re sure she’s still alive?”
His gaze snapped to hers, ice in his tone. “I’d know if she wasn’t.”
She didn’t flinch. “Then I want to help.”
Rowan blinked, taken aback. He dropped back in his seat, his assessing eyes glued to her.
“I know this isn’t real,” Rhea went on, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But your pain is. Your mate’s disappearance is. And I can see what it’s doing to you, Rowan. You’re unraveling, and that is exactly what the rogues want.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying her with narrowed eyes. “Why would you want to help me find her? It’s not exactly in your favor, is it?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Because I don’t want to win by default. And I don’t want the Elders controlling either of us. If Giselle is your mate—then she’s yours. Not Elder Malric’s. Not the Council’s. Yours.”
His throat tightened, surprised by the sincerity in her voice.
She leaned forward slightly. “Tell me what I can do.”
Rowan considered her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of deception—but there was none. Just quiet resolve.
He moved to the far side of the room, retrieving a folded parchment from a locked drawer and setting it on the table. “The witch I tracked down. The one whose scent we found near the clearing where Giselle disappeared. She helped me reconstruct the spell used there.”
Rhea's eyes sharpened. “And?”
Rowan met her gaze. “It was blood magic. But not just any blood. It was shifter blood.”
Rhea went still, the color draining slightly from her face.
“She said it had the distinct pull of a bonded wolf,” Rowan continued, his voice low, lethal. “That kind of spell can’t be done without someone willingly offering their blood… or someone within the pack betraying us.”
Rhea swallowed. “So we were right. Someone is working with the rogues.”
Rowan nodded. “And they’re close enough to know how to use our bond against us.”
Rhea exhaled, brows furrowed. “That narrows it down. Not many in the pack have access to your blood—or Giselle’s. And even fewer have the knowledge to siphon it off without being noticed.”
“Elia,” Rowan said without hesitation. “She’s still missing, and I know Sylah had nothing to do with it. And she’s always in Malric’s shadow.”
Rhea grimaced. “Which makes this even more dangerous. If Elia’s involved, and Elder Malric’s protecting her—or worse, helping her—then every move we make is being watched.”
“That’s why this fake wedding needs to end,” Rowan muttered. “I’m done playing along.”
Rhea stepped forward, gently placing her hand on his arm. “Not yet. I want it over too, but we need to be smart. If you pull out now without proof, Malric will spin it as you losing control, being compromised by your bond to Giselle.”
Rowan’s teeth clenched. “It is my bond to Giselle that’s keeping me grounded.”
“I know that,” she said softly. “But Elder Malric will use it against you. So let me dig deeper into Elia. She’s careful, but no one’s flawless. I’ll find the crack.”
Rowan nodded reluctantly. “You do that. Because if we don’t find something soon... I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold myself back next time I’m in that council chamber.”
Rhea gave him a tight smile. “Good. Let them feel your anger. Just don’t let them see your hand—yet.”
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