Chapter 16
The watchtower smelled of damp stone and old fire. The wooden beams creaked under the weight of years, and dust hung thick in the air, catching the dim light from the flickering torches along the walls. The space was small, intimate—more of a forgotten outpost than a fortress.
But it was safe.
For now.
Elara followed Garrick inside, her heartbeat steady but her mind racing. Leon moved behind her, silent as a shadow, his presence as unwavering as ever.
Garrick Storm.
A man her mother had trusted. A man who had fought beside her in a war Elara barely understood. And now, the only one who might hold the answers she needed.
Garrick stopped near an old wooden table, setting down a half-empty flask before turning toward them. The firelight deepened the lines on his face, his amber eyes sharp beneath the weight of his past.
“So,” he said, leaning against the edge of the table, “you’ve come looking for ghosts.”
Elara held his gaze. “I’ve come looking for the truth.”
Garrick let out a slow breath, running a hand through his graying hair. “Truth is a tricky thing. It has a habit of cutting deeper than any blade.”
Leon crossed his arms. “Then start cutting.”
Garrick’s lips twitched in something that might have been amusement.
But his gaze remained heavy as it returned to Elara. “Your mother would have hated this.”
Elara stiffened. “What?”
Garrick exhaled. “She wanted to protect you. Keep you out of this fight.” His voice lowered, roughened by something Elara couldn’t quite name. “She died for that choice.”
A lump formed in Elara’s throat, but she refused to let it take hold. “And yet, here I am.”
Garrick studied her for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re more like her than you realize.”
Elara clenched her fists. “Then tell me why she died.”
The room went silent.
Garrick sighed. Then, finally, he reached for his flask and took a slow sip before speaking again.
“Because she believed in something that wasn’t meant to exist.”
Leon stiffened beside her. “What does that mean?”
Garrick’s gaze flicked between them before settling on Elara. “She wasn’t just trying to unite the packs. She was trying to undo something.”
Elara’s pulse spiked. “Undo what?”
Garrick hesitated. Then, in a voice just above a whisper, he said—
“The bond.”
Elara’s breath hitched.
Leon’s body went rigid. “That’s not possible.”
Garrick let out a humorless laugh. “That’s what they wanted you to think.”
Elara’s mind raced. The bond. The unbreakable connection that tied fated mates together. The foundation of pack law, of their entire existence.
And her mother had been trying to destroy it?
Leon’s voice was colder now. “Why?”
Garrick set the flask down with a dull thud. “Because it was never meant to exist in the first place.”
Elara’s breath caught.
Garrick’s gaze locked onto hers, sharp and unyielding. “It was created. Forced upon us.” He exhaled. “And your mother wasn’t the first to try and break it. Just the last.”
Elara’s fingers trembled at her sides. “And you?”
Garrick smirked. “I fought to protect her. But we lost.” His voice darkened. “And now, they’re coming for you.”
A shiver ran down Elara’s spine.
Leon stepped closer, his presence solid beside her. “Who?”
Garrick hesitated.
Then, finally—
“The Order.”
Silence crashed over the room.
Leon’s expression hardened. “That’s a myth.”
Garrick let out a slow breath. “So was the idea of breaking the bond. And yet, your mate’s mother almost did it.”
Elara’s chest tightened.
She barely registered the way Leon stiffened beside her, the way the word mate lingered between them like a live wire.
She could only focus on the weight of what Garrick had just said.
The Order.
A name whispered in legends. A force that had shaped the valley long before their time.
And now, it was hunting her.
\---
**A Moment of Quiet in the Chaos**
Elara stepped outside, letting the cold night air bite at her skin. She needed space.
The stars stretched endlessly above her, their light distant, untouchable. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying whispers she couldn’t quite decipher.
Leon joined her a moment later, his presence familiar, steady.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.
Elara exhaled. “I don’t know.”
Leon nodded, as if he understood. And maybe he did.
They stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of the past pressing against them.
Then, quietly, Leon said, “If they’re coming for you, they’re coming for me too.”
Elara turned to him, her breath hitching at the intensity in his gaze. “Leon—”
He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured.
Elara swallowed hard. She wanted to believe him.
But deep down, she knew—
Some battles had to be fought alone.
\---
**A Betrayal Unfolding**
Back at the Blackthorn stronghold, the fire in Draven’s war room burned low, casting long shadows against the stone walls.
Soren stood before him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“They left,” he said simply.
Draven didn’t look up from the map in front of him. “Where?”
Soren hesitated.
Then, quietly—almost reluctantly—he said, “Leon took her to see Garrick Storm.”
The air in the room shifted.
Draven finally lifted his gaze, dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous.
“Then it begins.”
His fingers curled into a fist.
“And this time,” he murmured, “we finish what we started.”