Chapter 150 Live Vince
Master Rowan sat on the edge of the narrow bed in the guest chamber the pack had assigned him. He had already removed his heavy cloak and folded it across the back of the single chair. His boots stood neatly beside the door. He was reaching for the last tie on his shirt when a thin red beam cut through the darkness outside the window. The light moved once, twice, then held steady.
Outside, several guards on the night watch lifted their heads and let out short, joyful howls. Their voices carried across the courtyard, excited and relieved, the sound rising and falling like a shared victory. Rowan’s shoulders eased a fraction. He knew that signal. It was not an attack. It was a summons.
He waited without moving. The howls continued for another minute, then faded as the guards began talking among themselves in eager tones, already moving toward the eastern wall where the light had appeared. Rowan listened until their footsteps grew distant. Only then did he rise, pull the hood of his cloak low over his face, and ease the window open just enough to slip through.
He dropped to the ground without a sound, rolled his ankle once to test it, and started walking. He kept to the shadows of the outer buildings, staying far enough from the excited guards that they never noticed him. Their attention was fixed on the direction the beam had come from. Rowan moved parallel to them, never closing the distance, always keeping at least one structure between himself and their torchlight.
After fifteen minutes of careful progress he reached the old stone building on the far western edge of the territory. The structure had been abandoned long before Fernando’s father ruled. Ivy clung to the cracked walls. Most of the roof had caved in decades ago. Rowan paused at the corner, listening.
A single heartbeat reached his ears.
He stepped around the corner.
A tall man waited in the open doorway. Half his face was ruined by old burns that pulled the skin tight across the left cheek and jaw. The right side remained untouched, handsome in a severe way, but the contrast made the whole face difficult to look at for long. He wore a plain dark tunic and carried no visible weapon.
Rowan walked forward and stopped three paces away. He bowed from the waist, deep and formal.
The man inclined his head in return. “Rowan. You came quickly.”
“I recognized the signal,” Rowan said quietly. “The guards are distracted. We have time.”
The man stepped aside, gesturing for Rowan to enter the ruined building. Rowan passed him and moved deeper into the roofless hall. Moonlight fell through the gaps above, painting pale stripes across broken flagstones.
The man followed and stopped a few feet away. “How is the plan to extract Alberto progressing? Before Maleek comes for him.”
Rowan kept his posture straight, hands loose at his sides. “I am doing my best. Fernando is protective. Alberto is rarely alone. The pack is still on edge after Vorn’s death. Moving too soon will raise suspicion.”
The man’s burned lip twitched. “Your best needs to be faster. The boy’s blood is the last piece. Without it the puppet army remains fragile. With him with us, we can end this war on our terms.”
Rowan dipped his head. “I understand. I will find an opening soon.”
The man tilted his head, studying Rowan’s face. “Did you tell Fernando the whole secret? The full truth about Alberto’s bloodline?”
Rowan shook his head. “No. I told him enough to make him wary, but not enough to send him into a rage. If Fernando learns everything now he will burn the pack down himself trying to protect Alberto. He would carry the guilt of his father’s crimes on top of everything else. I will not add that weight to his shoulders yet.”
The man gave a slow nod. “Wise. Fernando is loyal to a fault. Loyalty can be more dangerous than hatred when it blinds him.”
Rowan remained silent.
The man took one step closer. His voice softened, almost gentle. “My life span is nearly spent, Rowan. The burns took more than skin. The healers say I have a month at best. Maybe less.”
Rowan’s throat moved. “I know.”
The man lifted his ruined hand. The fingers were stiff, scarred together in places. “I cannot watch my other son lose his life. Not again. Not in the name of saving every werewolf who ever drew breath. Vince must live. You will defend him. Protect him. With your life if necessary.”
Rowan lowered his gaze for a moment, then raised it again. “I will never forget my duty. I promised you I would keep him safe. That promise still stands.”
The man searched his face. “You still carry guilt over Deja.”
Rowan’s jaw flexed. “Every day.”
The man sighed. “She made her choice. She sealed his memories to protect him. She knew what the Enigma power would do if it woke too soon. You could not have stopped her.”
Rowan’s voice was quiet. “I could have tried harder if I hadn't hesitated to make that decision, I killed my sister.”
The man reached out with his good hand and gripped Rowan’s shoulder. “Enough. Guilt will not bring her back. It will not bring Rhett back. It will only weaken you when Vince needs you strongest.”
Rowan covered the man’s hand with his own. “I know.”
The man squeezed once, then released him. “Then go back. Keep Fernando distracted. Keep Alberto close. When the moment comes, I will signal again. We will take the boy. We will finish what Deja started.”
Rowan bowed again. “I will protect him.”
The man nodded once. “I know you will.”
Rowan turned and walked back the way he had come. The man watched him until he disappeared around the corner of the ruined wall.
The night swallowed Rowan’s footsteps.
The man remained alone in the moonlight, staring at the spot where Rowan had stood.
He lifted his scarred hand and pressed it to his chest, over the place his heart still beat slowly, stubbornly, refusing to quit even when every healer said it should have stopped years ago.
“Live, Vince,” he whispered to the empty night. “Live long enough to forgive us all.”
The wind carried the words away.
The man turned and limped deeper into the ruins, disappearing into shadow.