Chapter 149- The Edge of Decision

Lexy

The moon hung heavy in the sky, pale and watchful, casting its soft silver light over the celebration grounds that were now quiet and nearly deserted. The scent of firewood lingered from the final evening bonfire, but most of the guests had retired, knowing that the morning would bring their return to their own territories. The alliance festivities were officially coming to an end, and so was the false peace that had blanketed us for days.

I stood alone on the high balcony overlooking the sleeping encampment, the wind whispering through my loose curls. I hadn’t told CJ I was coming out here—I needed a moment to myself, a space to breathe before sunrise forced my hand.

Behind the quiet, my mind churned with unrest. Tarria was safe now. She had returned with bruises and truths sharp enough to draw blood. Her recovery had been fast physically, thanks to Dr. Bennett’s healing protocol, but the emotional toll was still visible in her eyes—haunted, alert, and fierce. She had trusted me with everything she’d learned while held captive: the prophecy, her father’s betrayal, Adrian’s calculated ambition, Kael’s involvement. She had remained loyal to me, to our tribe, even when the darkness around her had tried to pull her away.

And now... I had to choose.

The alliance we built was meant to protect us all, but if Adrian returned to his lands and discovered Tarria was alive, that she had escaped and was back in my care, he would either flee or retaliate. Either would bring chaos. But if I acted tonight—if I moved against him before he could leave—I might stop him before he gathered more power. I might prevent war.

But was that the right path? The diplomatic one? Or just the one fueled by my rage?

A soft knock on the door behind me pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned. It was Tarria.

She looked stronger today, standing on her own, dressed in a simple tunic and cloak, her dark hair braided tight behind her. Her movements were stiff, but the fire in her gaze hadn’t dimmed.

“I thought you might be out here,” she said quietly, stepping beside me.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, watching the way the moonlight caught the edge of her cheekbone.

“Neither could I.”

We stood in silence for a while, the kind of silence that only comes when two people are carrying the same burden.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said finally. “That if Adrian leaves in the morning, he’ll know I’m alive. And everything changes.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

She continued, “But I also know if you move on him tonight, there will be blood. Maybe ours. Maybe his. Maybe innocents.”

“I know,” I whispered. “And I hate that he still gets to shape the game.”

Tarria’s jaw tightened. “He doesn’t. Not anymore. We’re ahead of him now, Lexy. He just doesn’t know it.”

“But is that enough?” I turned to her, eyes fierce. “Should I really just let him walk out of here, knowing what he’s done to you? What he planned for you? For all of us? Let him go back and regroup and come back stronger?”

Her silence was answer enough.

I crossed my arms and looked back at the stars. “You should be asleep. You need rest.”

“So do you,” she replied.

But neither of us moved.

A short while later, CJ joined us, quiet but firm. His presence always brought a sense of grounding, and right now I desperately needed that. He stepped behind me and placed a hand gently at my lower back. “The guards reported Adrian returned to his tent just after sunset. Hasn’t left since.”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “He’s probably pacing like I am, wondering what I’ll do next.”

“Let him wonder,” CJ said. “It’s the first time he’s been unsure in a long while.”

“He doesn’t get to be unsure and safe,” I said, my voice sharpening. “That man held Tarria hostage. Lied to my face. Undermined this alliance. And we still let him feast with us.”

Tarria spoke up again. “Then act, Lexy. If you’re going to move on him, do it tonight. But know this—it’s not just him anymore. He’s not isolated. If you attack him under the banner of peace, the other packs may side with him out of obligation or fear. And this alliance—everything we’ve built—could unravel overnight.”

CJ nodded. “Tarria’s right. We’d lose the moral ground. The court of the packs is watching. He hasn’t made a public move yet. But once he does... that’s when we can respond with full force and have the others behind us.”

I closed my eyes. I could feel the weight of leadership crushing down on my shoulders. Being queen wasn’t about pride or power—it was about protecting the lives that depended on me. And tonight, those lives balanced on a knife’s edge.

“Then we wait,” I said finally, the words tasting like ash. “We let him go.”

Tarria said nothing, but I could feel her disappointment—maybe not in me, but in the choice itself. She had suffered because of him. This wasn’t fair. But war never is.

CJ squeezed my hand. “It’s the right call. For now.”

“For now,” I echoed.

We watched the horizon as the night deepened, the stars blinking overhead like a thousand silent witnesses to our unrest.

Eventually, I sent Tarria back to her room, promising her tighter guard rotations. She was reluctant to go but obeyed. CJ stayed with me, and together we strategized quietly, mapping out contingencies, strengthening patrols, preparing in case Adrian tried anything foolish before dawn.

But he didn’t.

The camp remained quiet. Too quiet.

By the time the first light touched the trees, I was still in my war clothes, hair braided tightly, crown absent from my head. I didn’t want to look like a ruler today. I wanted to feel like a protector.

CJ stood by the eastern gate as the visiting alphas and their entourages began to gather, packing their carts and readying their warriors for the long trek home.

Adrian emerged last.

He looked well-rested, but I knew better. His eyes betrayed him—restless, calculating, uncertain. Good. Let him stew in that uncertainty.

I stood beside the stone archway as he approached me with a formal nod. “Queen Lexy,” he said, voice steady.

“Alpha Adrian,” I returned with equal poise. “Safe travels.”

His gaze flicked briefly to my left—to where Tarria had once stood during the welcoming ceremony. She was nowhere to be seen now. A flicker of amusement swept across his eyes.

“Until next time,” he said, smiling, as though we were nothing more than allies with different priorities.

“Next time,” I echoed, cool and still.

As he walked away, I felt the storm begin to gather—slow and invisible, but inevitable.

Now he would know. Now the real game would begin.

And I would be ready.