Chapter 13 - Crossing The Line
1396 Words
The decision came easier than she expected.
If she wanted answers, she would have to find them herself.
Elara turned toward Nyra, her lips pressing together as her thoughts locked into place. The tension following her since arriving in Draegon had sharpened into something clear and impossible to ignore.
“Keep digging,” she said. “See if you can get into whatever they’re guarding near the town.”
Nyra’s brow lifted slightly.
“You’re giving me permission to cause problems now?”
“I think you were already planning to.”
A crooked smile pulled at Nyra’s mouth.
“Fair.”
Elara glanced toward the windows overlooking Draegon. Night stretched across the territory while torchlight flickered along the paths and outer walls below. Wolves still moved through the grounds in steady patrols, their figures little more than shifting shadows from this height.
“I need to check other avenues within my reach.”
Nyra studied her quietly, understanding immediately.
“You’re going after the records.”
Elara stayed silent while caution slowly replaced the humor in Nyra’s expression.
“Be careful,” she said. “You’re starting to pull at threads people worked hard to bury.”
Elara held her gaze steadily.
“Then maybe they should’ve buried them better.”
A breath slipped from Nyra before she pushed away from the wall.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Then she disappeared from the room as silently as she had entered it, leaving Elara alone with the pressure tightening beneath her ribs.
For several seconds, she remained where she was while the bond stirred faintly at the edge of her awareness. The distance between them told her Thorne was elsewhere inside the territory, though his presence still lingered through every part of this place.
Her fingers curled slowly against her palms.
There would be no undoing this after tonight.
Elara moved through the pack house without drawing attention, her pace measured as she followed the quieter passages where fewer people lingered. The deeper she moved into the territory’s heart, the more the atmosphere shifted around her.
Conversations dimmed when she passed while eyes tracked her movements with curiosity, suspicion, and open distrust, but she ignored all of it.
The polished floors reflected the warm glow from the wall sconces lining the corridors, though the light did little to soften the pressure hanging through the pack house. Draegon never truly relaxed. Even at night, discipline threaded through every movement and guarded glance.
Her pulse beat harder the further she walked while anticipation crawled beneath her skin, tightening alongside the anxiety she fought to contain.
By the time she reached the corridor leading toward Thorne’s office, silence stretched differently there. The sounds from the rest of the pack house faded behind her until only her footsteps remained.
His scent lingered through the corridor, cedar and pine threaded with whiskey, rich enough for her wolf to react immediately. Awareness slid beneath her skin, sharp and instinctive, and her stomach tightened in response.
But he wasn’t there.
At least for now.
She stopped outside the office while the door stood slightly open before her.
Elara stared at it, fully aware of what she was about to risk. Crossing this line carried far more danger than every argument and challenge since arriving in Draegon.
This crossed into betrayal.
If he caught her inside his office, consequences would follow that she couldn’t predict.
Her pulse stumbled hard enough to make her chest ache while fear curled sharply through her stomach.
The fear should have driven her away.
Instead, it pushed her forward.
Waiting had never given her answers. This was why she had agreed to the bond, why she had walked into a territory that didn’t want her, and why she had tied herself to a man who might have played a role in Draven’s death.
She was here for the truth, and truth always demanded something in return.
Elara pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office carried the same rigid order as before. Every object sat precisely where it belonged, untouched and deliberate, while the entire room reflected the control Thorne carried into every part of his life.
Even the air felt colder there.
Her gaze swept across the shelves lining the walls, the neatly stacked reports, and the dark wood furniture polished to perfection. The room felt controlled and calculated, like a space built for power instead of comfort.
Unease slid lower beneath her skin.
Thorne’s reaction to her presence in his territory had already been intense enough, and finding her here would push him further.
She closed the door carefully behind her, wincing at the soft click echoing through the office. The sound felt deafening, making every smaller noise stand out more sharply.
Her breathing sounded louder.
Her footsteps seemed heavier.
Even the faint rustle of paper as she approached the desk scraped against her nerves.
By the time she reached the desk, her palms had already begun to sweat.
She opened the first drawer quickly, her eyes moving over reports, agreements, and daily records. Everything looked current. Everything looked useless.
Frustration sharpened inside her.
She shut the drawer harder than intended and froze instantly, her pulse jumping as the sound cracked through the silence.
The corridor outside remained quiet.
No voices drifted toward the office.
No movement reached her ears.
Even so, anxiety curled tighter around her chest while she forced herself to breathe before opening the next drawer.
More reports waited inside.
Territory updates.
Supply inventories.
Worthless information that did nothing to answer the questions clawing through her head.
Her heartbeat pounded harder against her ribs while she searched faster, trying to ignore the growing feeling that every second inside this office increased the chance of getting caught.
The bond remained distant enough to keep her moving, though awareness of it lingered constantly beneath her skin.
Her fingers brushed across the surface of the desk while she circled around it, searching for something out of place.
Then her hand stopped abruptly.
The wood beneath her fingertips felt wrong.
Elara frowned before leaning closer. Her pulse climbed another notch as she traced the edge carefully, finally feeling the faint shift hidden beneath the grain.
A concealed compartment had been built directly into the desk so seamlessly she almost missed it entirely.
Adrenaline surged through her hard enough to make her hands tremble.
She swallowed slowly before opening it.
The files inside looked different from the others. Age had worn the edges unevenly, and the pages looked handled far too often to have been forgotten.
Unease twisted through her stomach.
She pulled one free and opened it, her eyes scanning the pages rapidly while her thoughts struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.
Names she didn’t recognize.
Fragments of reports.
Dates stretching back further than anything she had seen since arriving in Draegon.
Her breathing slowed unconsciously as her focus narrowed further with every line she read.
The deeper she looked, the tighter her chest became.
Her pack’s name appeared again and again throughout the documents in ways that made tension coil through every muscle in her body.
Something was wrong.
Something far bigger than she had imagined.
What she had accepted as truth her entire life suddenly felt unstable beneath her feet.
Someone had documented this carefully before hiding it where nobody else could reach it.
Her pulse hammered painfully as she turned another page, reading faster while questions crashed into each other inside her head.
How much did Thorne know?
How long had this been buried?
Why keep records if nobody was ever supposed to see them?
The office disappeared around her as her thoughts spiraled deeper into the fragments spread across the desk. Even the bond slipped into the background beneath the rush of realization clawing through her.
That distraction was the only reason she never heard the door open or sensed someone entering the room behind her.
The first thing she noticed was the shift in the air around her.
Her wolf recoiled instantly while fear slammed through her chest so violently her breath caught halfway into her lungs.
Cedar, pine, and whiskey crashed into her senses as dominance closed around her from behind, suffocating in its intensity and powerful enough to force every instinct inside her into submission.
He was here.
“What are you doing?”
- Writer
