Chapter 210

Chapter 210
Deric POV

The early morning air had a sharp bite, even through the thick walls of the pack compound. I pressed my palm against the window, watching the sun struggle to rise, streaks of gold and crimson painting the sky over the horizon. Something about the silence outside made the storm brewing inside me feel louder. I couldn’t shake the nagging unease that had settled in my chest like a stone.

I had spent the last few hours combing through the intelligence Carlton had left me—notes, hidden compartments, coded messages. Normally, I trusted my instincts, but there was something here… something Felen had left behind that didn’t belong to the past. It was subtle, almost invisible. A whisper of danger only someone who knew how to read it could hear. And I had learned to hear those whispers too well.

I crouched over the small table in my private study, the fire crackling beside me. The paper in front of me trembled slightly under my fingers—not from cold, but from the weight of what it revealed. Felen’s hand, or at least one of her agents, had left a thread. A thread woven in secrecy, designed to strike Elvira at a time when she would be most vulnerable.

I leaned back, closing my eyes. “Why her?” I muttered under my breath. “Why always her?”

It wasn’t just the thread that unsettled me. It was the timing, the precision. Whoever left this knew her, knew me, and knew the bond we shared wasn’t something we could easily sever. They had planned ahead, anticipating the smallest details. And the truth hit me with cold clarity: this wasn’t just a threat, it was a trap.

I stood abruptly, pacing the room. The wooden floor creaked beneath my boots as I moved. Every corner of the compound felt charged, almost alive with tension. My hand brushed against the hilt of my knife, a reflexive gesture, though I knew the danger here wasn’t something steel could fix. This was manipulation, strategy, and a cruelty borne of obsession.

The thought of Elvira—my sister, the one person I would die to protect—being used as a pawn made my stomach twist. I remembered the way she had looked that morning at breakfast, unaware of the danger lurking in shadows she couldn’t see. Her laughter still rang in my ears, light and melodic, and I hated that someone could take that away from her.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to clear the storm of thoughts. There were options. I could tell her—warn her directly—but what if that put her in greater danger? If Felen’s allies knew I had discovered the thread, they might act faster, strike sooner, and I would have dragged her straight into the fire.

My fingers tightened around a letter I had found hidden behind a false wall in Carlton’s study. The script was faint, elegant, and unmistakably deliberate. “The thread shall bind her when the moon wanes twice. Do not fail her, or the consequences will echo beyond her lineage.”

The words burned themselves into my mind. Moon wanes twice… that gave me a small window, but not much. I had to move carefully, like a predator stalking the unseen. Yet the idea of keeping her in the dark sat uneasily in my chest. 

I wandered to the balcony, letting the cold air slap against my face. The early sun glinted off the mountains in the distance, but I barely noticed. My mind was alive with calculations, scenarios, and possible outcomes. Each one ended the same: Elvira caught in the center of Felen’s machinations.

A sudden noise from the compound below drew my attention—a pair of wolves sparring in training, their growls sharp, teeth bared, fur glistening with sweat. Even in that mundane moment, I could see the reflection of the threat I faced: controlled power, discipline, and yet, a sudden bite could change everything. The metaphor was not lost on me.

I closed my eyes, drawing on the quiet strength I had learned from years of protection. If Felen or her allies thought they could outmaneuver me, they were sorely mistaken. I had spent my life learning to anticipate, to read the subtle cues in enemy movements, in whispers, in the smallest gestures. This thread wouldn’t claim her, not while I still drew breath.

And yet… the guilt gnawed at me. I had kept secrets before, yes, but this one, this invisible threat—was mine alone. I had to decide. Do I shield her from the truth, or do I prepare her for the storm that was coming? My hands clenched into fists. Either way, I couldn’t fail.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, the dark liquid bitter on my tongue, grounding me. My thoughts drifted back to Elvira’s face, the way her hair caught the sunlight, the way her eyes held that spark of curiosity and defiance I had always admired. I had sworn an oath, not to Carlton, not to the council, but to her: that no harm would ever come to her while I was able to stop it.

I thought about the possibility of confronting Felen directly, but that was suicide. She had layers of protection, allies hidden in plain sight, and every move I made could tip her hand. No… stealth, patience, observation, that was my only weapon now. I had to be clever, precise, and invisible.

The thought of involving Jaxon crossed my mind, but the timing was delicate. Jaxon’s bond with Elvira was restored, but it was new, fragile in ways only I could sense. His focus was rightly on her comfort and the stability of their union. If I drew him in too soon, I risked exposing her to Felen’s network. This burden, I realized with a hollow ache, was mine alone.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence of the study wrap around me. The fire’s warmth fought against the morning chill, but it did little to ease the tension coiled in my chest. I had learned to embrace discomfort, to let it sharpen my senses rather than dull them, but the thought of failure—of Elvira caught in a trap I hadn’t anticipated—was almost unbearable.

My phone buzzed, a simple vibration on the desk, but I ignored it. Now was not the time for distractions, not when the stakes were this high. Every sense was alert, every thought calculated. I needed to map the invisible thread, trace it without allowing it to sense me tracing it.

I rose, moving to the map table in the corner of the room. Pins marked locations of past threats, movements of potential allies, safe houses, and patrol routes. The thread… it had a signature, faint but present, like a ghost line connecting points I had barely noticed before. Felen’s handiwork was elegant in its cruelty, precise in its intent. Whoever she had left this with had been trained, disciplined, loyal to her cause, and utterly ruthless.

I traced my finger along the line, imagining the path it might take to reach Elvira. My jaw tightened. I would have to intercept it at multiple points, predict the moves before they happened, and above all, remain unseen. Stepping directly in her path was too risky. She had to remain unaware, her daily life untouched by the threat hovering over her. She could not know; she could not be burdened with this knowledge.

A soft creak behind me made me spin, hand on the hilt of my knife. It was only the wind catching the shutters, yet the reflexive readiness remained. Years of vigilance had left me unable to ignore the smallest potential danger. I whispered a quiet vow to myself, more than to anyone else: I will protect her, even if it costs me everything.

By mid-morning, I had formulated a plan of observation. I would shadow the thread, follow its subtle signs, and identify its anchor points. I would learn its rhythm, anticipate its strikes, and neutralize it before it could touch her. Each step required patience, discipline, and restraint, qualities I had honed over countless battles, yet now tested in the most personal way.

The thought of confronting her directly again surfaced, but I pushed it aside. Elvira did not need to see me as a shadow in the corner, not yet. She needed to remain unburdened, her spirit untouched by fear. She needed to trust me, and I could not allow her to doubt that trust, not for a moment.

Even as I moved through the day, checking corners, reviewing patrol schedules, and listening for whispers among our allies, my mind remained tethered to her. The threat was invisible, yet its presence was heavy, pressing against me in waves. Every shadow could hide a clue, every silence could carry a secret. And all the while, the clock ticked toward the time when the thread might strike.

By evening, fatigue settled into my bones, but I refused to succumb. I paused at the balcony again, watching the sky bleed into dusk, stars beginning to pierce the deepening blue. Somewhere out there, Felen or her allies were planning, weaving their schemes, oblivious to the silent predator moving against them. I whispered her name, not as a call, but as a vow: “Elvira… I’ve got you.”

Tonight, I would rest only enough to keep my senses sharp. Tomorrow, I would continue tracing the thread, dismantling it piece by piece. And if anyone dared touch her, they would find that the shadows were not empty, that the brother she trusted would be waiting.

Because some bonds could not be broken, no matter the threats lurking in the darkness. Some threads, invisible to all but the vigilant, carried strength beyond fear, beyond treachery, beyond time itself. And I would carry that bond for her, for us, until the threat was nothing more than a memory buried in the ashes of those who underestimated the lengths I would go to protect her.