Chapter 43 The Concordance Eve (Declan POV)
The campus had transformed overnight into something between a political summit and a military installation.
Everywhere I looked: wolves. Hundreds of them, streaming in from territories across the Pacific Northwest. Nightshade, Ironwood, and Silvercrest, obviously, but also smaller affiliated packs, observer delegations from neutral territories, even a few European representatives who'd flown in specifically for the historic ceremony. The Concordance only happened every five years, and this one was already legendary before it even began… the one where Project Chimera got exposed, where suppressed students came forward, where the entire pack system started to fracture.
Security checkpoints had been erected at every entrance. Guards with rifles and silver ammunition patrolled in rotating shifts. Magical wards shimmered at the campus boundaries—I could see them if I looked at just the right angle, like heat waves made of condensed pack power. Three pack Alphas working together could create barriers that would stop almost anything.
Almost.
Julian had proven he could slip through almost anything.
I stood on the balcony of my dorm room, watching the controlled chaos below. Delegates arriving with luggage and entourages. Security teams coordinating sweep patterns. Students confined to dorms or assigned areas, told to stay out of the way while the adults handled politics. The ceremony was scheduled for tomorrow at sunset… twenty hours from now. Twenty hours to find Julian, stop his planned simultaneous awakening, and somehow prevent seven suppressed wolves from going feral in the middle of three hundred assembled pack members.
No pressure.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
East Chapel, midnight. Come alone if you want answers about Elena.
I stared at the message for a long moment.
East Chapel. The old ruins where we'd found Julian's hideout in the basement. The coordinates from the photo of Elena… 48.7128° N, 121.4167° W… those were North Cascades coordinates, but the message implied something closer. Something here. Something Elena-related at the chapel.
It was obviously a trap.
Julian wanted to isolate me. Get me alone. Maybe kill me, maybe just delay me, maybe use me as leverage against Rowan. Whatever his actual plan, it definitely didn't involve giving me helpful information out of the kindness of his heart.
I should tell someone. Should alert security. Should at minimum tell Rowan through our bond, let her know where I was going so someone could mount a rescue if things went sideways.
The campus was quieter away from the main assembly areas. Most activity centered around the ceremonial grounds where tomorrow's proceedings would occur… a massive outdoor amphitheater that had been built specifically for Concordance events, complete with three raised platforms for the Alphas and seating for five hundred witnesses.
I moved through shadows, avoiding security patrols more from habit than actual need. I wasn't doing anything technically forbidden… just going for a walk, clearing my head before tomorrow's chaos. If anyone stopped me, that's what I'd say.
No one stopped me.
The East Chapel loomed against the night sky like a monument to forgotten faith. I checked my watch… 11:58 p.m… and adjusted the silver blade concealed in the sheath at my side. The weight was reassuring, familiar. I'd carried silver weapons since I was old enough to understand that sometimes wolves needed killing.
Even when those wolves were family.
The chapel door hung crooked on rusted hinges, gap wide enough to slip through without touching the rotted wood. Inside, darkness swallowed everything except the thin streams of moonlight filtering through holes in the collapsed roof. Dust motes drifted through those pale beams like ghosts of the congregation that once filled these pews.
I didn't need my phone's flashlight. My wolf-sharp eyes adjusted quickly, picking out details in the gloom… overturned benches, the cracked altar, debris scattered across stone floors that hadn't been swept in decades.
And standing near the altar, perfectly still, arms crossed: Julian Cross.
We stared at each other across the ruined chapel.
It was like looking into a twisted mirror. Same dark hair, though his fell longer and messier than mine, untamed by any attempt at grooming. Same sharp features… high cheekbones, strong jaw, the particular angle of our noses that marked us both as Elena's. Same build, tall and lean, built for speed rather than brute strength.
Both Elena's sons.
Meeting for the first time.
"Uncle Declan." His voice carried through the silence, amused and bitter in equal measure. "That's what I'm supposed to call you, right? Since you're my mother's younger brother? Even though I'm six years older than you. Pack hierarchies get confusing with age gaps."
I moved closer, hand resting on the silver blade's hilt but not drawing it. Yet. "Julian."
He tilted his head, studying me with those unsettling golden eyes that reflected light like an animal's. "Mother told me about you. Her brilliant little brother. The one who asked too many questions. The one who actually read books instead of just memorizing pack law. She loved you."
The past tense hit harder than it should have. "Loved. You talk about her like she's dead."
"To most of the world, she is." Julian's smile was sharp, dangerous. "But you're not most of the world, are you? You found her journals. Read her final entries. You know she didn't just go rogue and get executed like the official story claims. You know there's more."
"Where is she?" The question came out rougher than I intended. "If Elena's alive, where has she been for seventeen years?"
Julian pulled out his phone. "I thought you might ask that. Proof tends to be more convincing than words."
He swiped through something, then turned the screen toward me.
Video footage. Shaky at first, like whoever was recording couldn't quite hold the phone steady. Then it stabilized, showing the interior of a small cabin. Rough-hewn log walls. A woodstove burning in the corner, flames visible through the grate. Simple furniture… table, chairs, a bookshelf crammed with worn paperbacks. Windows overlooking dense forest that could have been anywhere in the Pacific Northwest.
And sitting at the table, reading by lamplight: Elena Hale.
My breath stopped.
She looked older. Of course she did… seventeen years had passed since her supposed execution. Silver threaded through her dark hair, more prominent at the temples. Lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there in my childhood memories. But everything else was exactly as I remembered… the way she held her book, one finger marking her place. The slight furrow between her brows when she concentrated. The particular angle of her shoulders when she sat.
My sister.
Alive.