CHAPTER SIXTY

CHAPTER SIXTY
Alpha Thorne was not the kind of man to let grievances fade into silence, yet he carried his secrets with the precision of a wolf stalking prey. He could not afford to let Seraphine know his next steps—not yet. Tomorrow, he had business in Duskwatch City, business that demanded both the Alpha and the phantom he became when cloaked in another name.

To Luna Celeste, he could not be Alpha Thorne, the very Alpha who had rejected her. Instead, he would approach her again as Ryker, the shadowed guise that allowed him to stand beside her without the weight of their painful history.

He knew this deception was a double-edged blade. When she discovered Ryker and Alpha Thorne were one and the same, her fury might be sharp enough to cut through every fragile bridge he had built.

Yet, in his heart, he convinced himself it was better this way—better to let Ryker soothe the wounds Thorne had carved, better to let the gentler version of himself give her the devotion she deserved. For if his enemies fell and her heart found peace again, the truth could come later.

Still, the matter clawed at his mind. Duskwatch City was more than a human sprawl of steel and neon. Beneath its lights pulsed the heartbeat of the mafia dons, men who ruled with the same ruthless discipline as Alphas. Nearly seventy percent of the packs scattered across nearby lands were tied to these dons, their fates intertwined by blood and shadow. For Thorne, Duskwatch City was both battlefield and hunting ground.

“How am I supposed to help her?” His voice was calm, indifferent even, though his chest tightened at the thought of Celeste’s tears. Thorne had mastered the art of restraint, hiding the storm beneath his surface. Seraphine, watching him cook in silence, mistook his composure for cruelty.

“Heartless,” she snapped, her tone cracking. “You’ve heard the rumors of the attack. You know what she’s enduring, and still you do nothing. What she did to you was wrong, yes, but she lost pieces of her memory—”

Thorne’s hand froze mid-motion. Celeste lost her memory? The words tore into him like claws. He hadn’t known. Was that what she had told Seraphine, that her silence and fractured choices were born not from malice but from broken memory?

But Seraphine wasn’t done. “Stop making her life harder. You are Alpha Thorne. You have the strength, the power—you could change this if you wanted. You could help her pack.”

His gaze darkened, a shadow sweeping across his features. The omelet hissed in the pan, but in one swift motion he turned, pinning Seraphine against the counter. His presence loomed, his wolf stirring within, but she did not flinch. She knew—even pressed against the wall of his dominance—that he would never harm her.

His lips brushed close to her ear, his words low and steady. “Do you think me heartless? I keep my distance from her for the same reason your true identity remains hidden.”

Her breath stilled. He released her just as quickly, retreating to the fridge, pulling ingredients with an almost mechanical detachment. But Seraphine’s heart was racing. The first time she had met Thorne, she had felt the inexplicable bond of kinship, though she had not known then he was her brother. When the truth had come, she had been shocked, yes, but overjoyed too.

And then came Athena’s warning—reminding her how their parents’ deaths had been no accident, but murder. Since then, their bond had been restrained, their affection shielded behind walls of grief and caution.

Now, watching him speak of Celeste with such ferocious restraint, Seraphine saw what he worked so hard to hide. His excuses were elaborate, but his heart betrayed him. His veins bulged against the ladle he gripped, the force of his emotions bleeding into his every motion.

“No wonder you moved her to that cottage you guard so fiercely,” Seraphine whispered. “You love her. You’ve always loved her. You just fear she’ll be taken from you, the way others have been.”

He said nothing, only focused on the pan before him. But she knew she was right.

“She can’t go on like this,” Seraphine added softly. “Someone has to help her.”

The mask cracked for just a heartbeat. “Perhaps,” he muttered, “the same unseen hand that helped clear her name will also free the innocents from the dungeon. Don’t you think?”

Seraphine blinked, realizing what he implied. Whoever had come to Celeste’s aid before—whoever had shattered Alaric’s cruel plans—might step forward again. What Seraphine didn’t know, what no one but his Shadow Elite knew, was that it had been Thorne himself.

Her hope rekindled. She smiled faintly. “Maybe you’re right.”

Thorne watched her leave, carrying food to share with Celeste. His heart ached with every step she took. He longed to join her, to sit beside Celeste in the Moonveil Garden, to eat from the same plate, to brush her hand with his own. But for now, secrecy caged him. Someone still moved against him in the dark, and until that threat was extinguished, he could not risk exposing the truth.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he told Seraphine before she left fully. “Duskwatch City awaits me. I can’t say when I’ll return. Look after the pack in my absence.”

Her brow furrowed. “There are matters you should hear first. I’ve uncovered something disturbing—raw materials have been vanishing from our stores. The ledgers don’t match. It’s been happening for two years.”

Thorne stilled, his expression hardening. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly, the kind of certainty Celeste had nurtured in her. “It may not have reached the records if they were stolen directly before logging. But it’s real.”

His mind raced. If Seraphine had seen this, then Celeste had likely guided her discovery. He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of his rejected mate—how even caged in grief, she was still fighting for his pack.

The moon goddess had punished him for rejecting her once, stripping Celeste of her wolf. But perhaps, if he could mend her heart, if he could shield her long enough, another chance might come. The thought throbbed against his temple, the sharp, splitting pain of his visions returning. His eyes burned crimson for a moment before he forced them down.

“Don’t speak of this to anyone,” he ordered. “When your investigation is finished, tell me first. I want the culprit unprepared when I move.”

Seraphine nodded. “All right. Safe travels.”

Later, when she reached the cottage, Celeste was still on the garden chair, her gaze distant, shoulders sagging. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t even bathed, just sat in the quiet of Moonveil Garden as if waiting for answers the breeze would not bring.

“Cel,” Seraphine said gently.

Celeste turned quickly, relief flickering in her eyes. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” Seraphine said, sliding into the chair beside her. She lifted a basket. “I brought you food. You’ll never guess who cooked it—Alpha Thorne.”

For a fleeting moment, Celeste’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles. The thought of an Alpha cooking was almost surreal. But the shadow over her heart was heavy, and the smile faded just as quickly.