Chapter 71: Through the Fog
*Luther*
Luther stood just beyond the pack border, muscles taut and eyes narrowed as two patrol guards stepped forward, their posture rigid. Giselle shifted anxiously beside him, her breathing shallow, every movement betraying the urgency in her heart. Avella remained quiet, her eyes tracking every flicker of motion in the trees beyond.
“Stand down,” Luther told the patrols firmly, but they didn’t budge.
“We weren’t told anyone was coming,” one of the guards replied.
Luther clenched his jaw. This wasn’t the time for protocol.
He closed his eyes briefly, reaching through the bond he shared with Charlie.
‘Charlie,’ he sent, his mental voice clipped with tension, ‘we’re at the southern border. I have Giselle and Avella with me, but we’re being blocked. Giselle says something is wrong with Rowan.’
There was a beat of silence before her voice filtered through.
‘I know,’ Charlie replied, frustration tinged with fear. ‘He’s inside the ballroom. He’s… not himself, Luther. He’s about to mark Rhea in front of the pack, and it’s like he doesn’t even remember Giselle exists.’
Luther swore under his breath. ‘We need to get to him, now.’
Just as he opened his eyes, a new scent drifted through the air—one he knew well.
Kalen.
The Beta strode up with urgency, his gaze sweeping over the trio. “Let them in,” he ordered the guards, who stepped aside instantly. Without waiting, Kalen turned on his heel. “Come with me. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”
Luther gave Charlie a quick update. ‘ Beta Kalen is here. He’s getting us in.’
‘Go,’ Charlie sent back. ‘Stop him.’
Luther severed the link and grabbed Giselle’s hand, helping her over the border as they took off after Kalen, ducking between buildings and using the narrow back paths of the pack village to avoid unwanted eyes.
“There are still too many we can’t trust,” Kalen said as they moved. “We don’t know how far the influence has spread, or who helped cast that spell. We have to get to Rowan before he does something he won’t be able to take back.”
Giselle stumbled slightly, but kept going, her voice breathless as she whispered, “Please… just get me to him.”
Luther squeezed her hand tighter. “We will.”
They didn’t slow. There was no time.
*Giselle*
The closer they got to the packhouse, the harder it became to breathe.
Giselle’s heart pounded against her ribs, each step sending waves of pain through her still-healing body. But none of it mattered. Not the ache in her limbs. Not the tightness in her chest. Not even the fact that every corner they turned held the threat of betrayal.
What mattered was *him*.
Rowan.
The mate bond pulsed inside her like a flickering flame barely holding on against a rising wind. And it *hurt*—it physically hurt—to feel how thin it had grown. As if the connection had been stretched so far it might snap at any moment.
She gritted her teeth, pushing forward behind Beta Kalen and Luther as they darted across the pack grounds. Lights spilled from the windows of the ballroom up ahead, music playing softly beneath the hum of voices. Too soft. Too peaceful.
*Wrong.*
Inside her, Aeris stirred. ‘We’re close,’ the wolf whispered, her voice faint but gaining strength. ‘I can feel him, but the bond is weakening by the second.’
'You’re awake,’ Giselle whispered back in her mind, hope sparking in her chest.
‘Barely,’ Aeris admitted. ‘But I’m here. I won’t let him go through this alone.’
Tears blurred Giselle’s vision as they reached the steps of the packhouse. ‘I’m scared,’ she admitted silently. ‘I don’t want to lose him.’
‘Me too,’ Aeris replied, voice tight with urgency. ‘But fear means nothing now. We must fight to hold onto what is ours.’
The mark on Giselle’s neck throbbed then—subtle but powerful. A reminder. A promise. A warning.
Every part of her burned to reach him, to shake him free of whatever spell had dulled his senses and clouded his heart. She would *not* lose him. Not like this.
Beta Kalen shouldered open the doors.
And then the world slowed.
The ballroom was packed. Wolves stood shoulder to shoulder, every eye locked on the raised platform at the back of the room. And there, standing at its center like some twisted nightmare, was *Rowan*. His head was tilted slightly toward Rhea, one hand gripping her waist, the other poised near her shoulder.
Giselle's breath hitched when she saw him lean in.
No. No, no, no.
Her mate—*her* Rowan—was about to *mark another.*
The pain that tore through her chest was worse than any spell, any imprisonment, any wound. Her knees buckled but she kept herself standing, using the last threads of will she had left.
"Rowan!" she screamed, her voice cracking but filled with desperation.
Everything *stopped*.
Rowan’s jaw froze an inch from Rhea’s neck. His body stiffened as if struck by lightning.
Heads turned. Whispers broke out. A dozen gasps rang out like cracks of thunder through the room.
Giselle stood in the doorway, panting, trembling, her body broken but her soul screaming. Beside her, Luther had a protective hand on her back, ready to catch her if she fell again. Beta Kalen stepped forward, placing himself between Giselle and the gathering crowd, but her eyes stayed locked on only one person.
Rowan turned.
And for a heartbeat, he just stared.
Like he didn’t recognize her.
Like he didn’t *know* her.
But then his gaze dropped to the mark on her neck. His mark. And something in his face *fractured*.
A flash of something—pain, confusion, rage—swept across his expression. He staggered a step back from Rhea, his hand lifting to his head as if something inside of it had begun to crack open.
Giselle took a shaky step forward, ignoring the whispers and the dozens of eyes pinned on her.
“Please,” she whispered, voice raw. “Come back to me.”
‘Now, Giselle!’ Aeris screamed in her mind. ‘Reach him! Anchor him before it’s too late!’
She pushed forward again, tears streaking down her face. “Rowan—*I’m yours*. You chose me. You marked me. Don’t let them take that from us.”
Rhea stepped back now, watching Rowan with something close to fear. “Rowan?” she said gently, but he didn’t hear her.
His eyes were locked on Giselle’s.
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