AUTHOR'S POV
The afternoon sun was starting to slip behind the trees, casting long, cold shadows across Alpha Rowan’s study.
Inside, the air was thick, smelling of heavy woodsmoke, spilled whiskey, and the kind of tense, silent sweat that comes when men are completely out of options. Behind the heavy, locked double doors, the room felt less like an office and more like a trap.
Garrick paced the length of the carpet like a wild animal locked in a cage. He looked awful. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot from days of sleeplessness. The broken mate bond was doing a number on him, leaving a constant, dull ache in his chest that felt like a physical withdrawal. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking.
"Will you sit down?" Rowan finally growled from behind his desk. He didn't lift his eyes from the paperwork in front of him, but his voice was heavy enough to put a physical weight on the room. "You’re pacing like a scared kid. It’s irritating."
"We are cornered, Alpha," Garrick said, stopping right in front of the desk. His voice was raw, completely stripped of the cocky, arrogant edge he usually carried around the pack. "You’ve seen the letter. It’s a mandatory summons. We have to go up to the northern valley, right into the middle of Cassian’s home turf, and we have to do it in two weeks."
Rowan slowly set his pen down, leaning back in his leather chair. He reached for a heavy crystal glass, pouring himself a generous finger of dark amber whiskey.
"Do you think I don't know that? I was dealing with Council politics before you were even old enough to hold a blade, Garrick. Of course we have to go. If we don't show up, we look guilty. If we look guilty, we're done."
"But Cassian knows," Garrick insisted, leaning over the desk, his knuckles turning white as he pressed them into the dark wood. "He has to know. We’re walking right into his jaws."
"Cassian is only a threat if we show him we're bleeding," Rowan said, his voice dropping to a cold, steady register. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes locking onto Garrick's frantic face. "Shut up and listen to me. We stand together at this gathering, or we both lose everything. Do you actually understand what we're trying to protect here? Because it’s a lot bigger than your little ego."
Garrick frowned, taking a step back.
"What are you talking about? It's the borders. The territory rights."
Rowan let out a dry, humorless laugh that sounded like paper scraping together.
"No. It goes way deeper than that. Decades ago, your father and I did what we had to do to make sure our families stayed at the top of the food chain. The northern lands—the ones Cassian rules now—weren't always his. His father was a stubborn, self-righteous fool who wouldn't let us expand our territory. He wanted to play fair, to keep us contained. So, your father and I made a quiet deal."
Rowan leaned forward, his eyes turning entirely dark and empty of any warmth.
"We framed him. We manufactured a rebellion, slaughtered his entire inner circle, and drove the old King into a freezing exile where we knew the winter would kill him. We took his lands, split the resources, and built the empire you're standing in right now."
Garrick stared at his father-in-law, his throat going completely dry.
"You... you murdered the old King?"
"We took care of a problem," Rowan corrected coldly. "But we made one massive mistake. We let his son live. We thought a useless pup wouldn't survive the winter alone. But Cassian didn't die. He crawled into the shadows, built himself an army of loyalists, took back his crown, and now he's the Lycan King. He’s spent years waiting for the perfect moment to destroy us. And this Peace Gathering? This is his move."
The room went completely silent, save for the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
Garrick felt a cold sweat break out along his collarbone. The reality of the situation was crashing down on him. He wasn't just dealing with a rival pack; he was walking into a trap set by a man who had decades of stolen blood to avenge.
"If he has proof," Garrick whispered, his voice trembling, "and he shows it to the Council... the other packs will turn on us. We'll be hunted down."
"Which is exactly why we need Cynthia," Rowan said, pointing a thick finger at Garrick. "Your marriage to Cynthia is the only shield we have left. Her power is massive, and a united front between our packs makes us too strong to touch. The Council is cowardly. They won't risk a massive continental war to avenge a dead king from twenty years ago, not if we look completely untouchable. You need to pull yourself together, get over whatever is rotting your brain, and marry her. We need that alliance to look ironclad when we stand in front of Cassian."
Garrick looked down at his boots, a wave of pure, heavy misery washing over him.
"Cynthia," he muttered, the name feeling like dry ash on his tongue.
Lately, every time he closed his eyes, he didn't see Cynthia's perfect, calculating smile. He saw Zaria. He saw the quiet, gentle girl he had thrown out into the snow like trash. The mate bond he had brutally rejected was still screaming inside him, a constant, hollow ache that made him feel like half a person. He was losing his mind with regret, dying to know if she was even still alive out there in the freezing dark.
But looking at Rowan’s hard, ruthless glare, Garrick knew he was trapped. His survival, his crown, his entire life—it was all built on a massive lie, and he had to keep lying to keep it.
"Fine," Garrick said, his voice completely hollow and dead. "I'll do it. The alliance stands."
Rowan nodded, satisfied, and picked up his pen to go back to his work, confident that his dirty secrets were safely locked behind the thick oak door of his study.
But outside, in the quiet, carpeted hallway, the world had just ended.
Luna Selene stood pressed against the cold stone wall, her hand clamped tight over her mouth to choke back a horrified sob. She had come to the office to beg Rowan one last time to look for Zaria. Instead, she had heard every single word through the gap in the heavy door.
The awful truth of her husband's bloody past, the murders, the stolen land, and the cold realization that Zaria hadn't just been rejected—she had been sacrificed to cover up a decades-old crime.
Selene's knees shook so violently she had to hold onto the wall to keep from collapsing. She realized, with absolute terror, that she was married to a monster, and she had let him send her youngest daughter straight to her death.