Chapter 22 Elena's Journals (Declan POV)
The old chapel basement smelled of damp stone and centuries of secrets. Midnight had come and gone; the single lantern I’d brought cast long shadows across the low ceiling. Vivian arrived exactly on time, slipped through the side entrance without a sound, dark hair tucked under a hood, eyes scanning every corner before she let the door close behind her.
She stopped three feet away. “You’re late.”
“I was early,” I said. “Checking for tails.”
She studied me for a beat. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” I gestured to the folding table I’d dragged down here earlier. “Sit.”
She didn’t. Just crossed her arms. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I reached into my jacket, slow, deliberate, and pulled out the small leather-bound book. The cover was worn soft from years of handling; the edges frayed. No title. Just my sister’s initials stamped in faded gold on the front: E.H.
Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?”
“Her journals,” I said. “The last three months before she died. I’ve never shown these to anyone.”
She stared at the book like it might bite. “Why now?”
“Because we’re out of time.” I set it on the table between us. “And because you need to understand what we’re really up against.”
Vivian finally moved. She pulled out the metal chair opposite me, sat, leaned forward. “Open it.”
I did.
The first entry was dated three months before the execution. Her handwriting, sharp, impatient, filled the page.
I skimmed aloud, voice low.
“October 12. James showed me the files today. Project Chimera. They’re not just suppressing wolves, they’re trying to build something new. Wolves without pack allegiance. Without the bonds that keep us in line. He says the Alphas funded it. All three. They want controllable assets. Soldiers who answer to them, not to each other.”
Vivian’s fingers tightened on the table edge.
I turned the page.
“October 28. James is scared. He wants to go public. I told him we can’t, not yet. Not without proof they can’t bury. But he’s right. If they succeed, the packs stop being families. They become hierarchies. Tools.”
I paused. Swallowed.
“November 15. They killed him. Car accident. Official report says faulty brakes. I know better. I saw the tire marks. They were deliberate. He was coming to meet me. They knew.”
Vivian inhaled sharply. “Who’s James?”
“Dr. James Cross,” I said. “Human researcher. Visiting professor here seventeen years ago. He and Elena… they were together. In love. She never told anyone. Not even me.”
Vivian’s eyes flicked to the journal. “Keep going.”
I turned to the final entries. The handwriting grew more erratic, ink smudged in places like she’d been crying.
“December 3. They know I know. Garrett came to me tonight. My own father. He begged me to stop. Said he’d protected me as long as he could. Said the project was necessary. Said the packs would tear themselves apart without control. I told him James was dead because of him. He didn’t deny it.”
I had to stop for a second. My throat closed.
Vivian waited. Silent.
I forced the words out.
“December 9. The baby, I have to protect the baby. If they find out she’s James’s daughter, they’ll kill her too. They’ll make it look like I went rogue. Make them think she’s dead. I’ve already arranged everything. Winters will take her. He promised. She’ll be hidden. Human. Safe. I’m sorry, little one. I’m so sorry.”
I closed the journal. Laid my palm flat on the cover.
Vivian stared at it. Then at me.
“She had a child?” she asked quietly.
I nodded once. “A daughter. I had a niece I never knew.”
The silence stretched, thick, heavy.
Vivian reached out, touched the journal with one fingertip. “And the father… James Cross.”
“Julian’s last name is Cross,” I said. “And the description Sage gave Rowan matches the few photos I have of him. Same eyes. Same jaw.”
Vivian exhaled slowly. “You think Julian is...”
“I think he’s James’s son,” I said. “Elena’s other child. The one she never mentioned. The one she hid even from me.”
Vivian leaned back. “And he’s been here. On campus. Feeding Sage lies. Giving her drugs to give Rowan.”
I nodded. “He’s not trying to help Rowan complete the Turning safely. He’s trying to force it. Make her remember. Make her dangerous.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “Dangerous to who?”
“To the Alphas,” I said. “To the project. To the lie they’ve all been living for seventeen years.”
She looked at the journal again. “Your father knew.”
“My father signed James’s death warrant,” I said. “And then he signed Elena’s. And he let them think her daughter was dead.”
Vivian met my eyes. “You’ve carried this alone for seventeen years.”
I shrugged. “Someone had to.”
She stood up. Paced once across the small room, then back.
“We need to tell Rowan,” she said.
“Tomorrow,” I agreed. “Before the full moon. Before the trial.”
Vivian stopped in front of me. “And Julian?”
“We find him,” I said. “We stop him. Whatever it takes.”