Chapter 254

The weight of Piper’s findings settled heavy upon me as I stood in the meeting room, staring at the hastily scribbled letters spread across the table. Weirdly, perhaps, but enough to condemn Alina. Piper sat opposite me, crossing her arms, while Warrick leaned against the wall, eyes sharp, alert, and unyielding.

“This is good,” I said, my voice neutral, but my gut churning with a bubbling cauldron of tension. “We can’t just let this meeting at the mill go down without us intercepting it.”

“I’m in,” Warrick said immediately, pushing off the wall.

Piper cut him a sharp glance. “We need subtlety, not you and your bull-in-a-china-shop vibe.”

“I can be gentle,” Warrick protested, though his tugging lips gave away how much confidence was really behind his words.

“Enough,” I said, raising a hand. “This has to be quiet. A small team, nothing to raise suspicion.”

In no time, I was working my way through the packhouse, choosing wolves I knew I could count on for the job.

First, I sought out Trajan, who sat in his corner of the hall poring over maps of patrol routes. “We need to talk,” I said, and he looked up, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

I laid it out gently, catching the shadow across his face. “You can count on me,” he said right off. “But this… it’s risky, Dane. If it goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” I cut him off. “We don’t have a choice.”

Finally, I went to Joclyn. She listened intently, a look of concern furrowing her brow. “I don’t like it,” she said. “But I see the necessity. Just… be careful.”

Not everyone was quite comfortable. I brought it up with Leif, who shook his head hard.

“This feels like a trap in itself,” he said. “We don’t have enough information to move on.”

“We don’t have the time to wait,” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced.

By the time we assembled the team—Trajan, Piper, Warrick, and a few trusted wolves—the weight of our endeavor weighed heavier upon me.

“Stick to the plan,” I said as we huddled on the outskirts of the village. “We go in silence, eyes open, and intercept if needed. Absolutely no risks that aren’t necessary.”

A flash of determination sparked in Piper’s eyes. “Let’s end this.”

We walked in silence to the mill, each of us tuned into the night sounds of the forest. As we drew closer, Trajan threw up a hand, his signal for us to stop. “Movement,” he whispered.

We moved more cautiously still, the old mill materializing before us, its shackled form silhouetted against the moonlit sky—the perfect setting one of Alina’s schemes deserved.

Shadows danced across the entrance, and the tension in the group coiled a little tighter.

“She’s here,” Piper whispered. The words came out tight with anger.

It went down smooth, orderly, each of us falling into place around the mill. Warrick and Piper took the sides, Trajan and I covered the back. We waited, listening. The only sounds were the sporadic rustling of leaves.

“Now,” I mouthed to Trajan, and we moved inside.

The inside of the mill was dark, thick with dust. One lantern stood weakly, casting light on a figure near the middle. Alina.

“Surround her,” I said slowly, and the team moved in.

But in that instant, Alina began to move in a calculated measure. In flashes, she darted in between the beams, disappearing into the shadows.

“Get her!” Piper shouted, a thread of frustration tracing its way into her voice.

Cold certainty edged Alina’s laughter, breaking the spell that held us upright.

“You think you could catch me?” she jeered, and the metallic ring in her voice caromed off the mill walls.

She brushed aside their ineffectual grip and melted out into the dark. She’d vanished before a man in battle practice could stumble from the building where she was standing, stepping out, dancing on wind: nothing.

Trajan snatched it up, his eyes narrowing as he read. “Another clue,” he growled, passing it to me.

The message was clear: You’ll never find me.

Back at the packhouse, Aurora was waiting for me. Her arms folded, her expression a combination of anger and hurt.

“You went after her without telling me?” she demanded sharply.

“I did not want to worry you,” I said—the excuse sounded like a thin one, even to my ears.

“Worry me?” She stepped closer, her eyes ablaze. “Dane, I’m your mate. Your partner. You don’t get to make decisions like this without me.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” I replied, but she was already shaking her head.

“Protecting me or shutting me out?” she returned, her voice low but fierce.

I winced at the edge in her voice, the fire in her gaze. “Aurora, I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I thought…”

“You thought?” she cut me off, stepping closer, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “You thought you could just make a decision like that all by yourself? Without me? Without one discussion?”

I blew out a sigh and ran my hand through my hair. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to put you in danger and I thought…”

“You thought wrong, Dane,” she snapped, her voice hiking. “I’m not some fragile flower you have to shield. I’m your mate, your partner. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like I’m some afterthought in your plans.”

Her words cut, and the root of guilt dug deeper into my chest. “That’s not what I wanted. I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” she appealed in a breaking voice. “From doing what I’ve always done? Stand by your side? Do you even trust me?”

I took another step closer, trying to catch her hands in mine, but she drew back unforgivingly. “Aurora, of course, I do believe you. You are literally the one I trust more than anyone else in this world. I was wrong, okay? I should have said something.”

Silence from her. The thin line her lips had compressed themselves into faced away from me now.

Desperation clawed at me, and I leaned in without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my lips against her skin.

She turned her head slightly, enough that my lips caught her jaw instead. I didn’t stop. I kissed her other cheek, her temple, the corner of her mouth.

“Dane,” she murmured, softer this time, but firm.

“I messed up,” I said, cupping her face gently. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you.”

She tried to keep her lips turned away, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her resolve. “Kisses aren’t going to fix this.”

“No?” I asked, pressing another kiss just below her ear, letting my hands slide down to her waist. “What about this?”

She gasped, and she leaned, just a little, into me. “Stop trying to charm your way out of this,” she said, her voice weaker now, almost teasing.

“Not trying to charm,” I murmured, brushing my lips along her neck. “Just showing you how much you mean to me.”

For a moment, we froze. The tension between us shifted. Her hands that had been so firm at her sides slid up to rest lightly on my chest.

“This isn’t over,” she said, her voice softer now, her lips threateningly close to mine.

“Noted,” I replied, bending closer by a fraction.

And finally, her lips brushed against mine in a soft, yet deliberate kiss that melted the rest of my tension away.

Pulling off from each other, there was a shade of joy in her eyes. “You’re not pulling this trick out to get me next time.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair off her face. “Understood, ma.”

She rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Good.”

Before either of us could say another word, a faint howl pierced the night—distant, yet chilling.

Her smile faltered, her eyes snapping to the window. “That’s not a regular patrol signal.”

“No,” I agreed, my body tensing. “I hope there’s nothing wrong.”