Chapter 27
Elara's POV
The silence in the parking lot felt wrong. Too heavy, like the air before a storm. My legs were shaking—not from fear, but from the adrenaline finally catching up to what I'd just done.
Mom's hand was still gripping mine, her palm slick with sweat. Dad walked ahead, his shoulders curved inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. The afternoon sun was too bright, making everything feel exposed.
"Elara."
I turned. Ethan was staring at me with this look I'd never seen before—something bright and fierce in his eyes.
"That was incredible back there." His voice was low, almost awed. "I've never seen anyone make Uncle Derrick shut up like that."
My chest tightened. I wanted to tell him it wasn't incredible. That I might've just screwed us all over. But the pride on his face stopped me cold.
"Thanks," I managed.
Mom's grip on my hand suddenly got tighter. When I looked at her, tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill.
"Elara..." Her voice cracked. "How did you know all that? About pack politics and council investigations?"
Shit. I'd let too much slip. Mom was looking at me like I was a stranger, and maybe I was. The real Elara would never have stood up to Uncle Derrick like that.
"I've been reading," I said quickly, making my voice uncertain. "At the library. About werewolf history and pack structures."
It wasn't completely a lie. I forced myself to meet her eyes.
"And there's stuff online too. I just... connected the dots."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. He was studying me the way he studied his engineering textbooks—looking for the flaw.
"You never cared about that stuff before," he said slowly. "Last month you didn't even know why Omegas can't challenge Alphas."
My heart rate spiked. I'd made a mistake.
"Because I was tired of not knowing," I shot back, meeting his stare. "Tired of people pushing us around because we don't understand the rules."
The truth—just not my truth. But it was what the real Elara would've thought if she'd lived long enough to get angry instead of scared.
Ethan held my gaze for another beat, then nodded. But I could see the questions still there, churning behind his eyes.
Dad had stopped by our car, one hand on the roof, staring at nothing. When he turned to look at me, the expression on his face made my throat tight.
"You were protecting us back there," he said quietly.
Not a question. A statement, heavy with something I couldn't name.
"Dad—"
"No." He pushed off the car, and suddenly he was standing straight. Really straight, the way he looked in those old photos Mom kept hidden. "I should've been protecting you. Instead I almost helped that bastard break the same rules that got me exiled."
His voice was rough. Raw. Mom reached for him but he shook his head.
"Marcus," Mom whispered. "You were trying to keep us safe."
"By selling my soul?" Dad's laugh was bitter. "By helping Derrick develop protected land illegally?"
He looked at me again, and this time I saw it—the man he used to be. The high-ranking wolf who'd refused to murder innocent teenagers and lost everything for it.
"You reminded me who I was," Dad said. "Before I let this place beat it out of me."
My eyes stung. I blinked hard. Lynette didn't cry. But I wasn't Lynette anymore. Not completely.
"We should get in the car," I said, my voice coming out thick. "Before we give the neighborhood more gossip."
Ethan snorted. "Too late. Mrs. Chen's been watching from her shop window for five minutes."
I glanced over. Sure enough, the grocery store owner was pressed against her door, phone in hand.
"Perfect," I muttered.
Mom fumbled for the car keys, her hands shaking so badly she dropped them twice. Dad took them from her gently.
"I'll drive."
We got in the car without speaking. I took the back seat with Ethan, pressing my forehead against the cool window as Dad pulled out of the lot.
"Elara."
Mom's soft voice cut through my thoughts. She'd twisted around in her seat, watching me with worried eyes.
"I'm proud of you," she said. "Even though I'm terrified, I'm proud."
My throat closed up. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Me too," Ethan said beside me.
I shoved his shoulder. He shoved back, grinning.
Dad caught my eye in the rearview mirror. He didn't say anything, but the look said everything.
We're in this together.
The fifteen-minute drive felt like hours. My mind kept replaying the confrontation, picking apart every word. Had I pushed too hard?
No. Dad had been about to cave. I'd stopped that.
But Uncle Derrick would retaliate. It was just a question of when.
We were pulling into our driveway when I realized.
"Shit."
Everyone looked at me.
"I left my—" I patted my pockets frantically. My inhaler. I'd set it on the table and forgotten it in the chaos.
"Your inhaler?" Mom went pale. "Elara, you need that!"
"I know." I was already unbuckling. "I'll go back and get it."
"I'll come with you," Dad said.
"No." Too sharp. I softened my voice. "You look exhausted. Just wait here. I'll be quick."
He hesitated, weighing it. Finally nodded.
"Ten minutes. If you're not back, I'm coming after you."
"Deal."
I was out of the car before anyone could argue, already jogging toward the main road. The restaurant was only a few blocks away.
The afternoon sun beat down as I ran, my breathing coming too fast. This body was still so weak. Every step felt like pushing through mud.
But I couldn't slow down. Something was nagging at me—a warrior's instinct that had kept me alive through countless battles.
The confrontation had been too easy. Uncle Derrick wouldn't just accept that humiliation.
I slowed as I approached the restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty now. Uncle Derrick's Mercedes was gone.
The nagging feeling intensified.
I circled around to the side entrance instead of the front. Some instinct told me to approach carefully.
That's when I smelled it.
Blood. Fresh blood, mixed with werewolf pheromones. And underneath—rage and fear and violence.
My heart kicked into overdrive. I pressed against the brick wall, every nerve alert. The back door hung half-open, the frame splintered like something had hit it with tremendous force.
Claw marks gouged deep into the wood.
Shit.
This wasn't a fight. This was a hunt.