Chapter 30
Elara's POV
The silence in the private dining room pressed against my eardrums like water at depth. Three pairs of eyes fixed on me—Derrick pale and sweating on the leather booth, Martha standing rigid by the overturned table, Vivian still curled in the corner with mascara streaking her cheeks.
I waited. Let the question hang in the blood-scented air.
Why would someone want you dead?
Martha's throat worked. Her fingers twisted together, knuckles white. "Three months ago," she started, voice thin and careful. "Derrick's lumber company began development on the eastern edge of Black Ridge Forest."
I kept my face blank. Listened.
"We discovered a group of rogue werewolves occupying that section. They were... interfering with the construction schedule."
"Interfering how?" My voice came out flat. Cold.
Derrick shifted on the booth, wincing as the movement pulled at his bandaged thigh. "They kept sabotaging equipment. Destroying survey markers. We couldn't make progress."
"So you forced them out." Not a question. I already knew where this was going.
Martha's eyes darted to her husband. Back to me. "The development was already behind schedule. We couldn't afford more delays—"
"You drove them out." I cut through her justification. "You used force to remove werewolves from their territory. That violates the Peace Coexistence Act. The Council's protection laws for displaced packs."
The color drained from Martha's face. "We didn't have a choice—"
"You had a choice." I moved toward the door, every muscle screaming protest. My lungs felt like shredded tissue. "You chose profit over Pack law. That's why you can't go to your Alpha for help. Because if the Council finds out what you did, Derrick faces sanctions. Maybe exile."
The word exile made Derrick flinch. Good. Let him taste what my father had swallowed for twenty years.
"So now those rogues are hunting you." I gripped the doorframe. Needed the support. "Hired killers in restaurants. What's next? Your home? Vivian's school?"
"We know." Derrick's voice cracked. "We know it's bad—"
"Then leave." I looked back at them. "Pack up. Move to another state. Start over somewhere the rogues can't find you."
"We can't!" Martha's composure shattered. She took three quick steps toward me, hands outstretched. "This is everything Derrick built over twenty years. Our reputation, our business, our life is here—"
"Your life won't matter if you're dead."
"If we run, we'll be marked as cowards in the werewolf community." Derrick pushed himself more upright, jaw clenched against pain. "We'll never recover our standing. Never."
I stared at him. At this man who'd looked down on my father for being exiled, who'd let his wife mock my mother's poverty, who'd sat at that lunch table radiating superiority while demanding Marcus prostitute his principles.
Now he was the one trapped. The one with no Pack protection. The one begging.
"Elara." Vivian's voice made me turn. She'd uncurled from the corner, standing on shaking legs. Her designer dress was torn at the shoulder, blood—not hers—spattered across the silk. "Please help us."
No arrogance in her tone now. No sneering superiority. Just raw fear.
"You want me to be your bodyguard?" I let the mockery show. "The 'defective Omega' who can't even shift? That Elara?"
Martha moved closer. Careful. Like approaching a wild animal. "What you did today... killing that werewolf... you have abilities we didn't understand. Didn't see before."
"You saw what you wanted to see." My chest tightened. Needed the inhaler but refused to show weakness now. "A weak link. A burden. Someone to look down on so you could feel better about yourselves."
"You're right." The admission came from Derrick. He met my eyes—really met them for the first time. "We were wrong about you. Completely wrong."
I waited. Let him squirm.
"I'm asking you—" His voice dropped. "I'm begging you. Protect my family. I'll pay whatever you want."
The offer hung there. Tempting. Dangerous.
I could walk away. Should walk away. The Wild Hunt was coming for my family. I had enough problems without taking on someone else's mess.
But my mind was already calculating. Twenty years of business connections. Influence in the local Pack. Resources I couldn't access on my own.
"I have a condition," I said quietly.
Hope flared in Martha's eyes. "Anything—"
"Go to your Alpha. Use your influence, your connections, whatever leverage you have. Convince him to lift my father's exile. Get the Pack to accept the Grey family back."
The hope died instantly.
"Elara, that's..." Martha shook her head. "The Alpha won't reverse an exile. Not for—"
"Not for a warehouse worker who refused to kill an innocent human?" I finished. "Not for a family you've spent years looking down on?"
Derrick and Martha exchanged a long look. Some silent conversation passed between them.
"We don't have that kind of influence," Derrick said finally. "The Alpha's decisions are—"
"Then we have nothing to discuss." I turned toward the door.
"Wait!" Martha's heels clicked across broken glass. "We can pay you. Fifty thousand dollars to protect us until this threat is eliminated."
I kept walking. Hand on the door handle.
"Seventy-five thousand!"
My fingers tightened on the metal. Seventy-five thousand could cover Mom's medical expenses for years. Could give Dad breathing room to find better work. Could get Ethan through college without drowning in debt.
But I didn't turn around.
"One hundred thousand!" Martha's voice pitched higher. "Please, Elara—"
"Cousin." Vivian was crying now. Real tears cutting through the mascara. "Please. I don't want to die. I'm sorry for everything I said, everything I did, I'm sorry—"
I stopped. Looked back at her.
She looked seventeen. Looked terrified. Looked like the child she actually was under all that designer armor.
Damn it.
"Two hundred thousand," I said.
Silence. Martha's mouth opened. Closed.
"That's—" Derrick started.
"Non-negotiable." I met his eyes. "You want me to risk my life—my family's safety—to clean up your mess? That's the price."
More silent communication between husband and wife. Martha's fingers dug into Derrick's shoulder. He gave a tiny nod.
"Done," Martha whispered. "Two hundred thousand. We agree."
"Deal." I moved back into the room. Stopped three feet from Derrick's booth. "And one more thing."
"What?" Derrick's voice was hoarse.
"And if you try to use me for anything that violates Council law, anything that crosses the line into illegal activity, I walk. And I report you myself." I let my gaze move between all three of them.
Martha's face went white. "We wouldn't—"
"You drove werewolves off their territory by force. You've already proven you'll break the rules when it's convenient." I pulled out my phone—the cheap prepaid one that barely worked. "I need your word. All three of you."
"You have it," Derrick said quickly. "I swear on my Pack, we'll be completely honest with you."
"Mom?" Vivian looked at Martha. "Promise her. Please."
Martha's jaw worked. She looked at me—really looked—and I watched something shift in her expression. Recognition maybe. Or fear.
"I promise," she said finally. "Complete honesty. No manipulation."
I nodded once. Slipped the phone back in my pocket. "Get Derrick to a hospital. Tell them a rogue werewolf attack—that's technically true. File it with the local Pack registry so there's an official record."
"What about you?" Martha asked. "Where will you—"
"I need to think." My legs were shaking now. Adrenaline crash hitting hard. "I'll contact you tomorrow with next steps."
I made it to the door before Derrick spoke again.
"Elara."
I paused. Didn't turn.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For saving our lives. For... for giving us a chance."
The gratitude in his voice made my stomach twist. I didn't want his thanks. Didn't want to feel anything for these people who'd spent years treating my family like dirt.
But Vivian's terrified face kept flashing in my mind. And two hundred thousand dollars could change everything for the Greys.
"Don't thank me yet," I said. "We haven't even started."