Chapter 21 Chapter 21
The mansion of the Red moon pack sat high above the Transylvanian valley, surrounded by forests that never slept. The night wind carried the scent of pine, frost, and secrets that refused to die. Within its stone walls, silence weighed heavier than the snow blanketing the mountains.
Viktor moved through the long corridor, boots echoing against marble like the ticking of a clock. His sharp eyes darted to the closed study doors ahead—the Alpha’s chamber, where decisions that shaped lives were made and destroyed. His jaw tightened.
He didn’t bother to knock.
The door creaked open and a thin sliver of lamplight spilled into the hallway. Donavon Dragov, the Alpha himself, sat behind a mahogany desk, the weight of authority carved into every line of his face. Silver streaked his hair, but his presence was as unyielding as ever—his eyes the same cold steel that once commanded armies of wolves.
Viktor bowed slightly. “Uncle,” he said. “The letter has been sent.”
Donavon looked up slowly, brows furrowing. “And?”
“I doubt he’ll answer,” Viktor said with a faint smirk. “He’s abandoned the clan. The pack hasn’t heard from him in months. Not since he left for America.”
The silence that followed was long and sharp. Donavon leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose.
“He hasn’t abandoned the pack,” a voice cut in from across the room.
Both men turned.
Hester stood by the wardrobe, folding a silk blouse with hands that trembled despite her attempt to appear calm. Her long grey hair was pinned in a loose knot, strands framing a face once soft and warm—now shadowed by years of worry. Her voice carried quiet defiance.
“He’ll come back,” she said, not looking at them. “I can feel it.”
Donavon rolled his eyes, his patience thinning. “You and your feelings,” he muttered. “You think the pack runs on faith, Hester? You think I can sit here and wait while my son defies everything I built?”
“He’s your blood,” she whispered.
“He’s a traitor,” Viktor said, stepping closer, voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. “An Alpha who walks away from his people is no better than a rogue. He left to live like a—”
“Enough.” Donavon’s voice boomed through the room, silencing him. “You forget your place, nephew.”
Viktor bowed his head slightly but didn’t hide the smirk playing at his lips. “Forgive me, Uncle. I only speak truth.”
Hester shot Viktor a glare before turning back to her husband. “You’re letting him poison your mind,” she said. “Viktor doesn’t care about Stetson. He wants your chair.”
It wasn’t a secret, everyone in the pack knew it, everyone except the Alpha himself. Viktor was there when Stetson left the pack, he was one of those people who said Stetson was a disgrace. He had said he wanted a united pack when he was the one that planted seeds of doubt in Donavan’s mind. Everyone knew his position—Beta—was just part of his plan to claim the title as pack leader.
Viktor chuckled lowly. “Careful, Aunt. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
Donavon slammed his fist against the desk, startling them both. “Enough! Both of you!”
The echo of his voice lingered, trembling in the air.
For a moment, no one spoke. Donavon’s breathing slowed as he reached for the folded newspaper beside his armchair. His eyes hardened when he saw the headline:
“MIMI JAY: THE INFAMOUS WEREWOLF BLOGGER EXPOSING THE SHADOWS OF THE HIDDEN WORLD.”
Beneath the title was a photograph of a woman with silver hair and a defiant smile—his daughter.
“She’s turned her back on us too,” he muttered, voice low and bitter. “Our name dragged through mud.”
Hester froze, the colour draining from her face. “Don’t,” she whispered.
He ignored her. “She shares our secrets with the world. Pack territories, hierarchies, blood laws—all on her blog. Humans know more than they should. She’s a disgrace. She’s put us all in danger.”
“She’s educating them!” Mila argued. “No one hunts us anymore, Donavon! They’ve stopped fearing us because they understand us better, in fact they don’t know we even exist—”
“Any pack member who betrays our laws loses their head.” His tone was like iron breaking.
Everyone was very aware of the laws in the pack, laws from decades ago—they were in a new era now and Dragov couldn’t seem to understand that. They’ve hated humans, hid from them, hunted them down for as long as they could remember but times are different now—still only few people wanted to change.
Viktor leaned back against the wall, watching the couple like a wolf studying prey. “He’s right, Aunt. The Alpha protects the pack. Sentiment is weakness.”
Hester’s eyes widened. “So, what then?” she snapped. “You’d kill her? Your own daughter?”
Donavon didn’t look at her. His fingers gripped the paper tighter. “I gave her a choice. She made hers.”
Viktor’s grin deepened. “Shall I send a team to hunt her down, Uncle? Quietly. We can make it look like an accident.”
“Viktor!” Hester’s voice cracked like thunder.
But Donavon didn’t flinch. He rubbed his temple and sighed. “Do what you must.”
The words feel heavy, final.
Hester gasped. “Donavon—no!” Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re condemning your own child.”
Viktor bowed slightly, hiding the satisfaction in his eyes. “Consider it done.”
He has never really liked his cousin, like his aunt, she also pursued change. They also hated each other to the core—Viktor wants to be leader; Mimi was securing the position for her brother, until she realised, she could do so little in the pack, so she left after so much changed in the pack.
As he left the room, his smirk trailed behind him like a curse.
The moment the door shut, Hester spun toward her husband, fury and heartbreak colliding in her chest. “How could you?” she whispered. “How could you order your own daughter’s death?”
Donavon’s jaw clenched. “She’s putting us all at risk.”
“Risk of what?” Hester demanded. “The world isn’t the same anymore, Donavon! Hunters are gone. No one cares about us! You’re fighting a war that doesn’t exist!”
He stood abruptly, his towering frame casting her in shadow. “You think I don’t know that?” he growled. “You think I enjoy it? But I can’t—” His voice faltered, trembling with something she hadn’t heard in years—fear. “I can’t afford to lose anyone anymore.”
Hester’s breath caught. “Then why are you doing this?”
“Because if I let emotion rule me, the pack dies. And then everyone we’ve lost will have died for nothing.”
Her tears spilled freely now. “You’re not saving the pack,” she said softly. “You’re burying it.”
For a long moment, Donavon didn’t speak. He turned his back to her, staring at the frost-covered window where the moonlight bled through. His reflection looked older, wearier—haunted.
“You weren’t there when the northern clans burned,” he said quietly. “You didn’t see children dragged into the woods. I did. You didn’t hear my father’s bones crack beneath silver. I did. Every Alpha before me has sacrificed something to protect this bloodline. I will not be the one to fail it.”
Hester pressed a trembling hand to her chest. “At what cost, Donavon? Our children?”
He turned, eyes flashing amber. “They made their choice!”
The words tore out of him like a wound.
Hester flinched. The pain in his voice was enough to quiet her anger, but not her sorrow. “And you’ll make yours,” she said weakly.
He looked away, but the tremor in his hand betrayed him.
After a long silence, he muttered, “Leave Stetson for now.”
Hester blinked. “What?”
“He’s not ready to face me. But he will.”
Her heart clenched. “Don’t turn him into your enemy.”
“He already is,” Donavon whispered.
The words broke something in her. She stepped toward him, gripping his arm, desperate. “He’s still your son, Donavon. Your blood. You can’t lose him too.”
He stared at her hand, then at her face, the battle raging behind his eyes. For a fleeting moment, the cold Alpha mask cracked—and she saw the man she once loved beneath it, tired and afraid.
He pulled her into his arms. Hester didn’t resist, it was no use because even if she did, he’d hold her by force. She’d come to know her husband pretty well and she was his comfort—yet he was his own problem. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing quietly as his hand rested on her hair.
“I just wanted peace,” he murmured. “For us. For them.”
“But peace doesn’t come from killing what you love,” she whispered against him. He said nothing, only held her tighter as if afraid she might disappear too.
Outside, the wind howled like wolves in mourning.
And somewhere in the forest beyond, a shadow moved beneath the moonlight—Viktor, leading a pack of armed wolves through the snow. His breath came out in visible puffs, his smile sharp as a blade.
Mimi Drakov would never see them coming.