Chapter 115
Asher
The wooden sign outside Diana Torres's cabin read: "Secrets are currency, silence is golden."
I killed the engine of our black GMC Yukon, eyes scanning the isolated structure half-buried in fresh snow. Six AM. The blizzard had stopped an hour ago, leaving the world wrapped in that eerie silence that only came after Alaskan storms.
"Let me do the talking," I told Blake.
He grunted, already reaching for the door handle. "She's a gossip columnist. I say we use Alpha voice, get what we need, leave."
"She's also our only lead to Scarlett Reeves." I caught his wrist. "And people don't talk when they're terrified. They talk when they're persuaded."
Blake's fire-and-gunpowder scent spiked with irritation, but he settled back. Through our bond, I felt Cole stir awake back at the estate—probably sensing our tension even at this distance.
Morning, brothers, Cole's voice drifted sleepily through the mind link. Any luck?
About to find out, I sent back.
Diana appeared at the window before we knocked—a woman in her fifties with deep brown hair streaked silver, amber eyes sharp with wariness. She cracked the door open, bundled in a thick robe.
"Alphas Sterling." Her voice was neutral. "Bit early for a social call."
"We're here about Scarlett Reeves," I said. "And Celeste."
Her face went carefully blank. "Those names are old news."
"Not to us." I kept my tone even. "Not when they're connected to our Luna's family."
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe calculation. "The debt slave girl? I heard the rumors about you three and her, but—"
Blake's growl cut her off. His scent went sharp enough to make her wolf instinct recoil.
"She has a name," I said quietly, but the black ebony and tobacco weight of my own scent pressed against Diana's doorway. "And she's not a debt slave. She's our mate. Our future Luna. Which means what happened to her parents is now pack business."
Diana's throat worked. After a long moment, she stepped aside.
The cabin's interior was cluttered with filing cabinets and old newspapers. Diana poured herself coffee with shaking hands, didn't offer us any.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything," Blake said flatly.
She sank into a chair. "Scarlett called me two weeks before she vanished. Terrified. Said 'the Russian'—that's what she called Konstantin—had caught her photographing his account books. She was running."
My wolf went still. "Why was she photographing his books?"
"For Celeste." Diana's mouth twisted. "Your Luna's mother came to Scarlett begging for help. Said Konstantin was threatening to 'handle' Connor—Celeste's exact words—if they didn't pay up. Scarlett tried to gather evidence to—I don't know, maybe blackmail Konstantin into forgiving the debt? It was stupid and desperate."
"Did Scarlett say where she was going?" I leaned forward.
"She mentioned a motel in Los Angeles. The Starlight, I think. Cheap place, cash only." Diana wrapped both hands around her mug. "She also said there was a reporter—Marcus Finch, writes for trash tabloids—who might know more about Konstantin's operations. If you can find him."
I committed both names to memory. Blake was already pulling out his phone, typing notes.
"One more thing." Diana's voice dropped. "Konstantin's reach is bigger than you think. Alaska, Seattle, LA—he's got operations in all three. Drugs, gambling, trafficking. And he specializes in making people disappear."
The words hung in the cold air.
"We'll find him," Blake said. It wasn't a promise. It was a fact.
As we drove back down the mountain, I felt Cole's presence strengthen in the bond. He'd be taking Kara to school soon. The thought of our Luna walking into Northern High for the first time since being marked made my chest tight with both pride and concern.
She'll be fine, Cole assured me, reading my worry. I'll make sure of it.
Just stay close, I sent back. The pack doesn't accept change easily.
---
Kara
The Arctic White Tesla Model X pulled up to Northern High's front entrance at exactly 7:45 AM.
I stared at the building through the windshield, my stomach a knot of ice. The last time I'd been here, I was nobody. A debt slave in borrowed clothes, invisible except when people wanted to mock "Carrot."
Now...
My fingers ghosted over the three marks on my throat—silver scars that glowed faintly even under my Canada Goose jacket's collar. Asher's on the right. Blake's on the left. Cole's at my nape.
Claimed. Marked. Mated.
Luna.
"Hey." Cole's hand found mine, cool mint and ozone wrapping around my senses like a safety blanket. "You don't have to do this today. We can turn around."
"No." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I need to finish school. And I need to... show them I'm not the same girl they ignored."
Through our bond, I felt his wolf's fierce pride. His lips brushed my temple. "You were never just that girl. They were just too blind to see it."
The warmth in my chest pushed back some of the cold.
Cole walked me to the entrance, his 6'4" frame drawing stares from the students clustering near the doors. When I stepped out, the arctic air bit at my exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the weight of dozens of eyes swiveling toward me.
The conversations died like someone had flipped a switch.
I felt it then—the shift in the air as every wolf nose within range caught my scent. No longer the faint, forgettable smell of an unmated Omega. Now I carried white musk and fresh snow, layered thick with three Alphas' claims: black ebony, gunpowder, mint.
Someone whispered: "Is that—"
"The debt slave?"
"No way. That's the new Luna. Kara. She's—"
A wave of scents hit me. Citrus-surprise. Sour-jealousy. Green-curiosity. Metallic-fear.
Dorian, the asshole who used to steal my hair ties, took one look at me and turned away fast. Like I'd burned him just by existing.
My wolf preened. They can smell it. Smell that we're protected. Claimed. Theirs.
Cole's hand pressed warm against my lower back. "I'll pick you up at three. Call through the bond if you need anything. Anything at all."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
As he drove away, I forced my spine straight and walked through those doors. Students parted like water. Some dropped their eyes in submission. Others stared openly, scenting me, probably trying to figure out how the hell the debt slave became the future Luna of Silver Frost Pack.
Welcome to my new normal.
---
The morning passed in a blur of whispers and sideways glances. Dr. Harrison was the only teacher who acted normal, greeting me with a warm smile and a quiet, "Glad to see you back, Kara."
By the time third period hit, I was wound so tight I could barely breathe. I'd gone to the library to escape the cafeteria—too many eyes, too many scents, too much pack politics I didn't understand yet.
I chose a corner desk, pulling out my calculus homework. The library was blessedly quiet. Just a few students scattered among the shelves, studying or pretending to.
I'd barely started on the first problem when I smelled it.
Pine and diesel fuel. Aggressive. Male. Coming closer.
My wolf's hackles rose before I even looked up.