Chapter five
1193 Words
Lambert's POV.
The second the tracker spoke Elena's name in my hall, something primal roared awake in my chest. A possessive fury I spent my entire adult life suppressing. The same fury my father wore like a crown before he used it to break my mother.
I was not him. I kept repeating those words as I escorted Elena to my office. I was not him when she told me about Douglas and the bridal chamber and the stepsister dressed in white. I was not him when rage burned so hot behind my ribs that my wolf demanded I cross territorial lines and tear an Alpha heir apart with my bare hands.
Control. Always control.
Michael returned at dusk with his report on the tracker. Basic foot soldier, no useful intelligence beyond confirming that Douglas sent four wolves in different directions. Only one found Blood Moon. The others presumably searched northern and western territories.
"Increase patrols on all borders," I told Michael. "No foreign wolf enters without capture and interrogation. No exceptions."
Michael nodded but lingered in the doorway. He wore that look, the one that meant he wanted to say something personal and was debating whether our friendship permitted it.
"Speak," I said.
"The second chance bond. I saw your face at dinner. You nearly shifted right there at the table."
I clenched my jaw. "It changes nothing."
"It changes everything and you know it. She carries another man's pup. Douglas Roland has legal standing to pursue a claim. If you involve yourself, you invite war with the Crescent Moon."
"Crescent Moon is a pack of posturing fools led by an aging Alpha whose heir cannot keep his own mate satisfied. They would crumble before our front gate."
"That is not the point." Michael stepped fully into the room and closed the door. "The point is why you are doing this. Is it the bond? Is it guilt about your mother? Or do you genuinely care about this woman beyond obligation?"
I stared at the map on my wall. The borders of Blood Moon territory stretched wide, marked in red ink, surrounded by neighbors who feared provoking us. I built this reputation deliberately. Fear kept my people safe. Fear kept threats distant.
But fear also kept me isolated. No mate. No heir. No warmth in this enormous house beyond my mother's visits and Michael's loyalty.
"I care," I admitted. The words scraped my throat like gravel. "I do not understand the depth of it yet. But when she pulled her hand away at that dinner, something inside me fractured. And when she told me what that coward did to her on the night she should have been celebrated... Michael, I wanted to destroy him. Not as an Alpha defending territory. As a man defending someone who matters."
Michael exhaled slowly. "Then protect her properly. The stepsister's arrival is suspicious. Let me handle surveillance."
"Already ordered. Two guards on Angelina's door. Monitor all communications."
"Good." Michael paused. "One more thing. The centennial is in five weeks. If Douglas plans any move, it will come during the celebration when our forces spread across the territory for security coverage."
I considered this. "Then we plan for exactly that scenario. Draw up a defensive formation that appears scattered but collapses inward on command. If they come, they walk into a cage."
Michael grinned, the kind of sharp smile that reminded me why I trusted him with my life. "Consider it done."
He left. I remained at my desk, staring at the closed door, thinking about a woman in a guest cottage who stitched wolves into cloth with more life than most living creatures possessed.
My father's voice echoed in memory, low and venomous. "Weakness wears a pretty face, boy. The bond makes you soft. Soft Alphas die."
My mother's voice answered, gentle and worn. "Strength without tenderness is cruelty, Lambert. Do not confuse hardness for power."
She survived him. Barely. A vial of wolfsbane dissolved in his evening wine after he broke her arm for the third time. She told the pack it was a heart failure brought on by rage. No one questioned her. No one mourned him.
I was fourteen when my father died. Old enough to understand what my mother did. Old enough to understand why. Young enough to absorb the terror that someday the same violence might surface in my own blood.
But tonight, standing in my office with Elena's single tear still cooling on my thumb, I felt no violence. Only the overwhelming need to stand between her and every harm the world prepared.
That terrified me more than rage ever could.
The following days blurred with preparation. Centennial planning consumed mornings. Border security occupied afternoons. And Angelina Valda performed her role with nauseating precision.
She appeared at meals with red eyes and trembling lips. She spoke to anyone who listened about how Douglas manipulated her, how their mother forced the arrangement, how she only wanted Elena's forgiveness. Pack members whispered sympathy. Some offered her comfort.
I watched from across the hall and saw a predator wearing prey's clothing.
On the third evening of Angelina's residence, Michael appeared at my private quarters with a folded paper in his hand and thunder in his gaze.
"Intercepted thirty minutes ago," he said, pressing the letter into my palm. "She bribed a kitchen servant to carry it to the border for a rider heading south. Toward the Crescent Moon."
I unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat, feminine, and deliberate.
I read every word.
Elena is pregnant. At least five months along. Twins, based on her size. The Alpha here guards her closely and rarely lets her leave the central compound. Security will stretch thin during the centennial celebration in four weeks. Send your wolves then. Approach from the southern ridge where patrols rotate on a fifteen-minute gap. I will ensure she is alone.
My hands did not shake. My face did not change. But inside, a cold and absolute decision settled into place like a blade sliding into its sheath.
I summoned Elena to my office that night.
She read the letter standing by the fireplace. Her face drained of color, then flushed with something hotter than anger. She folded the paper with deliberate calm and placed it on my desk.
"She is not my sister," Elena said. Her voice was low, steady, lethal in its quiet. "Do what you need to do."
I nodded once. "She remains here under watch. We feed her false information about security rotations and let her believe her plan proceeds. When Douglas sends his wolves, they arrive exactly where we want them."
Elena met my gaze. In the firelight, her eyes burned amber and fierce, and for the first time since our bond sparked to life, she did not look away.
"Together?" she asked.
"Together," I confirmed.
Something unspoken passed between us at that moment. An agreement deeper than strategy. A promise that whatever came next, neither of us would face it alone.
My wolf settled with a satisfaction I never allowed him before.
And for the first time in my life, I did not fight it.
- Writer
