Two Alphas, One Luna

Chapter 13 – Terms and Conditions

“I’m going,” I say. “With or without you.”

The words hang in Corren’s office like smoke after a fire alarm—too sharp, too loud, absolutely not going back in.

Corren stares at me across the desk, hands flat on a stack of reports he’s definitely not reading. The city map behind him is full of pins and thread. For the first time, there’s one pin stuck outside city limits, toward the edge of the forest. Maelith added it herself.

The place my hand drew on the map. The place that hurts less to look at.

“No,” Corren says.

“That’s not an argument,” I say.

“It’s not supposed to be.” His voice has that quiet, lethal calm that makes most wolves roll over without thinking. “You are not walking into an unknown power site built on the bones of a failed ritual and an absent father’s bad decisions.”

“Absent,” I echo, something hot and jagged flaring in my chest. “That’s one word for it.”

Talla shifts in the chair by the wall, eyes flicking between us. “Seryn—”

“I get it,” I say, not looking away from Corren. “You’re alpha. You’re responsible. You’re scared this will blow up in our faces. But pretending that dot on the map doesn’t exist doesn’t make it less real. It just means someone else gets there first.”

“Who says someone’s going there?”

“Someone already is.” I jab a finger at the pin. “Those symbols didn’t draw themselves. The ward over the river didn’t just spontaneously combust. You think whoever did that is going to sit back and wait politely while we figure out a plan?”

He grinds his teeth. I can practically hear the enamel protesting.

“If this was anyone else,” he says, “I’d order them confined to the house and post guards.”

“If this was anyone else,” I shoot back, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”

Silence.

He looks past me, at the window, at the sliver of gray sky. When he speaks again, his voice is rough.

“You think your father’s out there.”

“I think,” I say carefully, “that whoever is out there understands this circle better than we do. If it’s him, I want answers. If it’s not, I want to know who decided to use his work like a weapon.”

“And you think walking into their den is the best way to get those answers?”

“I think,” I say, “that standing still got us a broken ward and a glowing target painted on my chest. I’m done standing still.”

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Talla watches, shoulders tense, ready to step in if the argument turns bloody.

A knock cuts through the air.

“Come in,” Corren says, sounding like he regrets it already.

Vaelor steps through the doorway like he owns the space, which makes Talla bristle on reflex. Forest and city scents collide—pine and steel, diesel and rain. He doesn’t spare the office a glance. His gaze finds me first.

“You told him,” he says.

“Of course she told me,” Corren snaps. “This is my territory.”

“Not where she’s going,” Vaelor says pleasantly.

I blink. “You knew I was going?”

“You lit up half the forest when you put that dot on the map,” he says, mouth curving wryly. “My wolves felt it in their teeth. Rhun almost took a tree down with his face.”

Talla snorts. “Worth it.”

Corren swings his gaze between us. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” Vaelor says. “You want this circle contained? We find whoever’s carving it. And we can’t do that from your nice safe concrete box.”

Corren’s jaw flexes. “You would walk her into a trap on the word of a half‑remembered scent and some scribbles?”

“I would walk with her,” Vaelor corrects, eyes narrowing. “There’s a difference.”

Their power flares, invisible hackles rising. My wolf presses forward, caught between the urge to bare her throat and to knock both their heads together.

“Stop,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “You’re both saying the same thing. This is dangerous. It might be a trap. Someone needs to go anyway.”

Corren looks at me, pinning me in place with that cold, furious focus he usually reserves for people he’s about to arrest.

“So what?” he asks. “You, me, and forest alpha walk hand in hand into the wild on a maybe?”

“Add a shaman and a beta or two,” Vaelor says. “Call it a very tense field trip.”

Talla raises a hand. “I vote not leaving her alone with either of you. For balance.”

Corren exhales, long and frayed. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know,” she says. “That’s why I’m coming.”

He opens his mouth to shut that down, then thinks better of it. Jarek would back her. So would half the patrol, after Fenrik bled for those symbols.

“Rhun will kill me if I don’t bring him,” Vaelor adds. “And Ysara will kill me if I do and leave her behind.” He shrugs. “So they’re coming too.”

“So a small army,” Corren says flatly.

“A small, very grumpy, very competent army,” Talla says. “Look, boss. You can either try to chain her to this desk and start a fight you won’t win, or you can lead the hunt and choose the ground.”

He hates that she’s right. I can see it in the tight line of his shoulders, the way his fingers drum once on the map, then still.

Finally, he looks at me. Just me.

“If we do this,” he says, voice low, “we do it my way. My contingencies. My exits. We don’t assume your father is a savior or a victim. We assume whoever’s there could kill you and plan around that.”

My throat feels too tight. “Okay.”

Vaelor’s gaze burns along my cheek. “We leave at dawn,” he says. “Less human eyes. Easier to scent the path.”

Corren nods once, curt. “We meet at the south bridge. No one else hears about this. Not Vorian. Not the rest of the circle.”

Talla pushes up from the chair, stretching. “Road trip it is.”

As they fall into logistics—numbers, routes, signals—my wolf presses her nose against the inside of my ribs, whining softly. Fear and anticipation and something like relief jumble in my chest.

For the first time since the circle on the water lit up, I feel the balance shift.

We’re not just waiting for someone to set us on fire.

We’re bringing the match.