The Silver Wolf Series

Chapter Five – Answers

Tomorrow wasn't good enough.

Fiona's hands were still shaking as she climbed the stairs to the second floor of their

home, her wet clothes clinging to her skin, river water dripping onto the hardwood. She

should shower. Should change. Should do something to make herself presentable

before confronting the Alpha of the Moon River Pack.

But the wolf in her mind was still too close to the surface, still humming with residual

power, and Fiona couldn't wait another moment. Not when her father had answers. Not

when he'd been keeping secrets that could have prepared her for what just happened.

Kieran's study was at the end of the hall, behind a heavy oak door that was usually

closed during pack business. The light was on—she could see it bleeding out from

underneath. He was in there. Probably reviewing patrol reports or handling pack

finances or doing any of the thousand other things an Alpha did to keep his people safe. Fiona didn't knock. She shoved the door open hard enough that it banged against the

wall, and Kieran looked up from his desk with a start.

"Fiona—"

"What am I?" The words came out raw, desperate. "What the hell am I, Dad?"

Kieran went very still. His eyes—the same green as hers, as Siobhan's, as their

mother's had been—swept over her, taking in her disheveled appearance, her wet

clothes, the wild look in her eyes.

Inside Kieran's mind, Cian surged forward with sudden, visceral recognition. The scent

hit him like a physical blow—silver wolf. The same scent that had clung to Elara, the

same blessed power that had marked his mate. Cian's grief roared to life, a howl of

anguish and protective fury that made Kieran's hands clench on the desk.

Our daughter, Cian snarled with desperate understanding. She shifted. The silver wolf

manifested. PROTECT HER. MUST PROTECT HER.

She watched understanding dawn on his face, watched the color drain from his skin as

both man and wolf processed what this meant.

"Close the door," he said quietly, but his voice carried the weight of Cian's Alpha

authority—the command of a wolf who had lost one silver wolf and would die before

losing another.

"Answer me first."

"Close the door, Fiona." There was Alpha command in his voice now, Cian's dominance

bleeding through every word, the kind that made pack members obey without question.

But Fiona had just obliterated three rogues with a power she didn't understand, and she

was done being obedient.

Still, she kicked the door shut behind her. The click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud

in the sudden silence.

"You shifted," Kieran said. It wasn't a question. Cian was pacing in his mind, agitated

and protective, scenting the residual power that clung to their daughter.

"I shifted." Fiona's voice cracked. "I shifted into something that shouldn't exist. Into a

wolf that's silver, Dad. Silver like moonlight, like starlight, like nothing I've ever seen

before. And when those rogues attacked me, when they had me cornered by the river, I

didn't just fight them off. I unmade them. They're gone. There's nothing left but shadows

on the grass."

She was shaking harder now, her whole body trembling with the force of emotions she

couldn't name. Fear. Rage. Confusion. Relief that she wasn't wolfless after all, terror at

what she'd become instead. Kieran stood slowly, and Cian drove the movement—the Alpha wolf rising to assess the threat, to protect his daughter from whatever danger might follow. He moved around his desk toward her with the fluid grace of a predator, every muscle coiled with tension.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." The word came out as a sob. "No, I'm fine, I'm perfect, I'm a f*****g monster who

can erase people from existence, and I don't even know how I did it. So I'll ask you

again, Dad—what am I?"

"You're my daughter," Kieran said, and there was so much pain in his voice—both his

and Cian's—that Fiona almost backed down. Almost. Cian's grief was a living thing,

howling through Kieran's words. Our daughter. Our blessed daughter. Like Elara. Like

our mate. "You're Fiona Moonstone, and you're strong and brave and—"

"Don't." She held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't give me platitudes. Don't tell me I'm

special or blessed or any of that bullshit. I want the truth. You knew this could happen. I

saw it in your eyes on my eighteenth birthday, when I didn't shift. You weren't surprised.

You were relieved. So tell me why."

Kieran's jaw tightened, and Cian snarled with the weight of secrets kept too long. For a

long moment, he just looked at her, and Fiona could see the war happening behind his

eyes. The Alpha who kept secrets to protect his pack. The father who wanted to shield

his daughter from painful truths. The wolf who had watched his mate die and would do

anything to prevent the same fate for his daughter.

Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy with resignation—both man and wolf surrendering to

the inevitable. "Sit down."

"I don't want to sit down. I want answers."

"Then you'll get them. But sit down anyway, because this is going to take a while." He

gestured to the leather armchair across from his desk. "Please, Fiona."

The please did it. Fiona had heard her father give orders, make demands, issue

commands with Alpha authority. But she'd rarely heard him say please. She sank into

the chair, her legs suddenly weak, and waited.

Kieran returned to his own chair, but he didn't sit. Instead, he moved to the window,

staring out at the pack lands below. Cian pressed close to the surface, his grief a

palpable presence that made Kieran's shoulders tense, his breathing shallow. When he

spoke, his voice was distant, as if he were looking at something far beyond the present

moment—looking back at Elara, at everything they'd lost.