Chapter 251

ROWAN

The only thing that kept me company was the dim light coming from that small, barred window. Cold, just like my cell, unyielding, just like those choices that landed me here.

Alina’s smirk flashes again in my mind, her words of mockery loud: “You’re finally where you belong.”

In the first moments, my anger had overwhelmed me; I had wanted to fight back, fight to show everyone that I was not the traitor they had made me out to be.

After those hours changed into another, that oppressive silence started to seep in and make the anger give way to something heavier: regret.

I had let down not just myself, but also my pack. Astonishingly clear was the fact that my ambition and resentment had blinded me, that Alina used me as a pawn in some twisted game of hers.

A sound of boots echoed down the hallway. My heart pounded with every passing second as I saw Aurora step into view, her face unreadable.

“Aurora,” I said, my voice breaking. “I need to talk to you.”

Arms crossed over her chest, posture unmoving. “I’m listening.”

I rose, the weight of my actions heavy upon me.

“I was wrong. In every way. Alina…she played me, but it was my move to allow that. I just wanted so badly to matter that I never thought about the harm I was causing.”

Aurora’s eyes lightened a degree, though the wariness around her mouth did not leave. “And now?”

“Now I want to make it right,” I said, stepping closer to the bars. “I’ll tell you everything, every plan, every conversation I had with her. I don’t care what happens to me, but she can’t keep hurting the pack.”

I told Aurora everything: the ways in which Alina had planted doubt, the words she had whispered to ignite my jealousy, the note she had told me she passed to Miles when she came here last night.

By the end, her lips were pressed into a thin line, fists clenched.

“You were selfish,” she said in a low tone. “You put your desires above the pack’s safety.”

“I know,” I whispered. “And I’ll carry that guilt with me for my whole life. But please, let me help in stopping her.”

Aurora didn’t turn around; the line of her shoulder was still stiff.

“This isn’t just about you, Rowan. You got everyone into danger. You don’t regain anyone’s trust with pretty words.”

The next morning, Aurora had a private meeting with Dane. Seated across from me in the dungeon, I could sense the weight of their questions.

“You’re asking us to trust you after everything you’ve done,” Dane said, his voice cutting. “Why should we?”

“Because I know how she thinks,” I said. “I have seen her schemes, her strategy. If you want to get in her way, you do need someone who has been inside.”

Aurora exchanged a weighted look with Dane, and that one moment of their silent deliberation stretched on as if an eternity before she nodded and said, “You’ll be watched closely. No decisions, no action, without clearing it with us first.”

After the meeting, relief washed over me, even as I knew my road to redemption was going to be anything but simple.

Later that night, Aurora came to my cell alone. She stood wordlessly for a moment before addressing me.

“You’ve made a mess, Rowan. But you were right about one thing: Alina’s manipulations run deeper than we realized.”

I met her gaze, the guilt weighing heavy upon me. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I can be better."

“You’ll have one chance to make this right,” she said, her voice firm but laced with hope. “Don’t waste it.”

Aurora’s words hung in the air for a very long time after she had vanished into the corridor’s shadows.

The silence in my cell started to grow loud, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I didn’t resent it.

I embraced it. It gave me the opportunity to think, to plan, to work out a way in which I could make amends.

I paced the little edges of my cell, running through in my mind all that I knew about Alina, the things she pulled out, her hints, her bends of words to make them go just the right way.

She’d manipulated every insecurity until it was beyond sight, it felt. But this thread of trust, and not a cautious one, left Aurora; now I was getting the opportunity to expose her as she was.

The next morning, the guard grumbled as he opened my cell door. “You’re being transferred. Aurora’s orders.”

Transferred?

I was put in a main corridor in my handcuffs. Two other guards flanked me, bright eyes watching, taking no chances.

Next thing I knew, I was marched to the small room in the rear part of the packhouse.

Inside, Aurora and Dane were waiting for me, their faces unreadable. A stack of papers sat between them on the table.

“Sit,” Dane told me, his voice brooking no argument.

I did, my heart racing.

“We need to know everything,” Aurora said, shoving the papers closer to me. “Every tiny detail, every name, every plan. Just write it.”

I swallowed hard, reaching for the pen. “I’ll give you everything I know.”

The hours ticked by painfully as I told them all, my hand aching with the work. Aurora read every page closely, keen eyes picking out any inconsistencies, no matter how slight.

“You have given us so much,” Dane said finally, his tone reflective. “But how are we to take this and not think it’s just some other ploy?”

“You don’t,” I said, holding his gaze. “But if I wanted to manipulate you, why would I expose myself like this?”

Dane’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Aurora leaned forward, her voice a little softer.

“If this is true, Rowan, then Alina’s plans are more dangerous than we thought. But don’t think for one second this is forgiveness. You still have much to prove in terms of loyalty.”

“I understand,” I said, evenly.

Piper stood in the hall on my way back to my cell that evening. She said nothing. Her face was a mask of anger and pity.

“Piper,” I said, turning to her. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were unyielding. “Sorry doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”

“I know,” I said softly. “But I’m trying to fix it.”

She didn’t say a word, but the barest flash of something understandable, maybe, crossed her face before she turned and walked away.

Much later that night, I sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor of my cell, staring up at the ceiling. Aurora’s words echoed in my mind: You’ll have one chance to make this right.

I didn’t want to. I needed to.