Chapter 22 Edmund's Surveillance (Edmund POV)
The silver blade feels right in my hand…familiar weight, perfect balance, purpose distilled into cold metal.
I've been watching the chapel for forty minutes now, hidden in the shadows of the old yew trees that flank its western wall. The same trees that have stood sentinel here for centuries, witnessing God knows what manner of sins and secrets.
Tonight, they're witnessing mine.
My daughter entered twenty minutes ago. Alone, I thought. But my instincts, honed over seventeen years of hunting, screamed otherwise. The supernatural presence I've been tracking for weeks is strongest here, in this abandoned chapel that no student has legitimate reason to visit at midnight.
The camera in my left hand has already captured Vivienne's approach. Now I wait for whatever creature she's meeting. Because she is meeting something. Someone. The pattern has been too consistent to ignore…late-night absences, unexplained texts, that look in her eyes like she's guarding a secret.
Like Lyanna used to look before I discovered the truth.
My jaw clenches at the memory. Not tonight. Can't think about Lyanna tonight, or I'll lose focus. And focus is everything when hunting.
The chapel door opens.
Vivienne emerges first, and even from this distance, I can see she's upset. Her posture is rigid, arms wrapped around herself like she's holding something in. Or holding herself together.
Then he appears behind her.
Declan Hartley.
My finger finds the camera's shutter button instinctively. Click. Click. Click. Three shots of the football captain following my daughter out of a chapel at midnight, his hand reaching for her arm, her jerking away from his touch.
"Vivienne," his voice carries across the empty grounds. "Please. Just wait."
"I said I needed space, Declan." She doesn't turn around. "That includes not following me out of buildings."
"I'm not following. I'm..." He runs a hand through his dark auburn hair. "I'm making sure you get back safely."
"From what? My own father?"
The words hit me like ice water. She knows I was in the chapel. Knows I was hunting. How much else does she know?
I step out from the shadows, letting moonlight catch the silver blade.
"From him, actually."
Both of them freeze. Vivienne's eyes go wide. Declan's expression shifts from concern to something harder, more controlled. His posture changes…shoulders back, weight balanced, hands loose at his sides.
Fighter's stance.
"Father." Vivienne's voice is carefully neutral. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question. It's nearly one in the morning, and you're alone with a boy in an abandoned chapel." I walk toward them slowly, keeping the blade visible. "Care to explain?"
"We were talking." She lifts her chin. "About our history project."
"At midnight. In a chapel." I let skepticism drip from every word. "Try again, Vivienne. And this time, don't insult my intelligence."
Declan shifts slightly, placing himself at an angle between Vivienne and me. The movement is subtle but unmistakable. Protective.
Possessive.
"Mr. Ashford." His tone is respectful, but there's steel underneath. "I understand this looks bad, but nothing inappropriate happened. We were just talking."
"Were you." I study him properly for the first time up close. Tall, athletic build, grey eyes that are watching me with unusual intensity. The same boy from the football match footage, the one whose performance defied natural ability. "Declan Hartley. Scholarship student. Captain of the football team. Four goals in your last match, with hang-time that shouldn't be physically possible."
Something flickers across his face. "I've been training hard."
"I'm sure you have." I take another step closer. "Tell me, Declan, what were you and my daughter discussing that required such privacy? Such secrecy?"
"That's none of your business," Vivienne interjects. "I'm allowed to have private conversations."
"Not with him, you're not."
"Why not?" Her voice rises. "Because you don't approve? Because you've decided I'm not allowed to talk to certain people?"
"Because he's dangerous." I keep my eyes on Hartley. "Isn't that right, Declan? You're dangerous. Particularly to someone like Vivienne."
"I would never hurt her." The words come out fierce, immediate. "Never."
"No? Then what do you call luring her to isolated locations at midnight? Keeping secrets from her family? Making her lie to her father?"
"I haven't made her do anything. Vivienne makes her own choices."
"Does she?" I shift my attention to my daughter. "Or are you influencing those choices? Because from where I'm standing, my daughter has changed dramatically since meeting you. She's secretive. Defensive. Acting completely unlike herself."
"Maybe this is myself," Vivienne says quietly. "Maybe you just never knew the real me."
The words sting more than they should. "I know you better than anyone. I raised you. Protected you. Kept you safe from…" I stop myself just in time. Can't finish that sentence. Not yet.
"From what?" She takes a step toward me. "What have you been protecting me from, Father?"
"From boys like him." I gesture with the blade toward Hartley. "Boys who have secrets. Who operate at night. Whose entire friend group exhibits the same unusual patterns of behavior."
Declan's expression doesn't change, but I catch it…the slight tightening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. He knows I've been watching. Knows I've documented their patterns.
Good. Let him be afraid.
"You've been spying on us?" Vivienne sounds horrified. "On me?"
"I've been observing. There's a difference."
"No, there isn't. You put cameras in the woods, Father. I saw them when I went running yesterday. You're surveilling the entire campus."
Damn. I didn't think she'd venture that deep into the forest. "Those cameras are for wildlife research."
"Wildlife." She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Is that what you call it? Wildlife research?"
"Vivienne, you don't understand…"
"Then explain it to me. Explain why you need motion sensors and silver-lined traps for 'wildlife research.' Explain the tactical gear. The silver knife you're holding right now." Her voice cracks slightly. "Explain what you're really doing here."
I can't. Not without revealing everything. Not without admitting what I've spent seventeen years hiding from her.
"It's complicated," I say finally.
"Everything is complicated with you." She's crying now, tears streaming down her face. "Nothing is ever simple or honest or true."
"I'm protecting you…"
"By lying? By controlling? By treating me like I'm either too fragile or too stupid to handle the truth?" She wipes her eyes angrily. "I'm done, Father. Done with the isolation and the secrets and the constant feeling that something is wrong but I'm not allowed to know what it is."
"Vivienne, listen to me…"
"No. You listen." She moves to stand beside Declan, not quite touching but close enough to make her allegiance clear. "I'm staying at Blackthorn. I'm continuing my friendship with Declan. And you're going to stop surveilling us like we're criminals."
"I'll do no such thing. In fact, I'm withdrawing you from this school effective immediately. Pack your things. We're leaving tomorrow."
"No."
The single word hangs in the air between us.
"What did you say?"
"I said no. I'm not leaving. You can't make me."
"I'm your father. I absolutely can make you."
"Try it." Her voice is steady now, tears dried. "Drag me out of here by force and see what happens. See how far your control actually extends."
We stare at each other, and for the first time in seventeen years, I don't recognize my daughter. This isn't the obedient girl I raised. This isn't the child who trusted my judgment without question.
This is someone else. Someone harder. Stronger.
More like Lyanna than I want to admit.
"Vivienne." Declan's voice is soft, but she shakes her head.
"No. He needs to hear this." She turns back to me. "You've controlled every aspect of my life since I was born. Where I lived. Who I saw. What I learned. You isolated me completely, and I accepted it because I thought you were protecting me. But you weren't protecting me, were you? You were protecting yourself. From what, I don't know yet. But I will find out."
"You don't know what you're talking about…"
"Don't I? Then prove me wrong. Tell me the truth about Mother's death. Tell me about her family. Tell me why you burn her photographs and forbid me from asking questions about her." Her hands are shaking. "Tell me what you're really hunting in these woods."
I can't breathe. Can't think. She knows too much. Has pieced together too much.
My gaze snaps to Hartley. "What have you told her?"
"Nothing she didn't already know." His eyes meet mine steadily. "Vivienne is smart. She asks questions. Researches. Thinks for herself. You should be proud of that instead of trying to suppress it."
"You have no idea what you're interfering with."
"Then enlighten me."
For a moment, I consider it. Consider telling this boy exactly what he is, what he's risking, what's coming for him and his entire pack. But that would mean admitting everything in front of Vivienne. Would mean watching her face when she realizes what her mother was. What she is.
Not yet. I'm not ready for that. May never be ready.
"Go back to your dorm, Vivienne. Now."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll have you physically removed from this school tomorrow morning. Don't test me."
She looks at Declan, some silent communication passing between them. Then she nods once, slowly.
"Fine. I'll go." She starts walking toward Thornfield House, then pauses and looks back. "But this conversation isn't over, Father. Not even close."
I watch her disappear into the darkness, every instinct screaming at me to follow, to lock her in her room, to get her away from this place and everything it represents.
But I can't. Not yet. Because first, I need to deal with the creature standing in front of me.
Declan hasn't moved. Hasn't stopped watching me with those too-steady grey eyes.
"You should go," I tell him. "Before I do something we'll both regret."
"Will we both regret it? Or just you?" He tilts his head slightly. "Because I'm not the one with a silver blade. I'm not the one hunting in the middle of the night. I'm not the one lying to his daughter."
"Careful, boy."
"Of what? You?" Something shifts in his expression. "I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Ashford."
"You should be."
"Maybe. But I'm more afraid of what hurting me would do to Vivienne. And I think you know that too."
He's right, damn him. Anything I do to Hartley will drive Vivienne further away. Will make her defend him, choose him, cling to him even more desperately.
The mate bond. Has to be. Nothing else explains this level of attachment after such a short time.
"Stay away from my daughter," I say quietly.
"Can't do that."
"I'm not asking."
"Neither am I." His eyes flash…just for a second, but unmistakable. Amber. Not grey. Amber.
The confirmation hits me like electricity. Werewolf. He's a werewolf. I knew it, suspected it, but seeing the proof...
"I know what you are," I say softly.
Declan goes very still. "Do you."
"I've been hunting your kind for seventeen years. You think I don't recognize the signs? The patterns? The way you move, the way your teammates operate like a pack?" I smile without humor. "I know exactly what you are, Declan Hartley. And I know what you're trying to do with my daughter."
"I'm not trying to do anything. This isn't a plan or a trap or…"
"Then what is it? Love?" I spit the word like poison. "You've known her for weeks. Don't insult me with romantic delusions."
"Call it what you want. Doesn't change what it is."
"And what is it?"
"Something you wouldn't understand." His expression is careful, controlled. "Something your kind destroys because you're too afraid to accept it."
"My kind." I step closer, blade raised. "You mean human. You mean the species you pretend to be while hunting in the woods at night. While marking territory and establishing dominance and playing at civilization."
"Is that what you think? That we're playing?"
"I think you're predators wearing human faces. I think you're dangerous. And I think my daughter is too smart, too special, too important to be corrupted by something like you."
For the first time, anger cracks through his controlled facade. "Something. Not someone. Because I'm not a person to you, am I? I'm just a creature. Just a monster."
"If the description fits."
"Then you're a hypocrite." He takes a step forward, and I tense, ready to strike. But he stops, maintaining distance. "Because you loved one of us once, didn't you? Married her. Had children with her. Made a life with her."
The blade trembles in my hand. "Don't you dare…"
"Lyanna was one of us. And you killed her for it."
The world narrows to his words, to the accusation hanging between us like a knife.
"You don't know anything about my wife."
"I know she was Silvermane. I know she transformed during childbirth. I know you panicked and murdered your own mate because you couldn't handle what she was." His voice is hard now, unforgiving. "How's that for knowing nothing?"
I can't speak. Can't move. Can only stare at this boy who somehow knows my deepest shame, my darkest secret.
"How…"
"Vivienne researched her mother's family. Found out about the Silvermanes, about the massacre in 1887, about the suspicious circumstances of Lyanna's death." He holds my gaze. "She knows, Edmund. Maybe not everything, but enough. And she's smart enough to put the rest together."
"She wouldn't…"
"Believe it? Accept it? Choose to embrace her heritage instead of the lies you've fed her?" He shakes his head. "You don't know your daughter as well as you think you do. Because the Vivienne I know? She's brave enough to face the truth. Strong enough to survive it. And stubborn enough to choose her own path, regardless of what you want."
"She'll never choose you over me."
"Are you sure about that? Because from where I'm standing, she already has."
The words land like physical blows. Because he's right. Tonight proved it. Vivienne stood beside him, refused my direct order, challenged my authority for the first time in her life.
She chose him.
"Stay away from her," I say again, but my voice lacks conviction.
"Can't. Won't. Not even if you kill me." He starts backing away, toward the treeline. "Which you should know…if anything happens to me, my pack will protect her. They'll tell her everything. Give her the choice you've been denying her for seventeen years."
"Your pack." I laugh bitterly. "You mean the boys on your football team? The scholarship students who conveniently all arrived the same year? The ones who run together in the woods during full moons?"
"Yeah. Them." No denial. No attempt to cover. Just confirmation. "And they'll die protecting her if they have to. Because that's what family does."
"Family." The word tastes wrong. "You're not her family. I am."
"Then act like it. Stop hunting her. Stop lying. Stop trying to control what she becomes." He's at the treeline now, nearly invisible in shadow. "Or lose her forever. Your choice."
He disappears into the woods, and I'm left standing alone with my silver blade and my racing thoughts.
He knows. Vivienne knows. Too much has been exposed, too many secrets revealed.
I need to accelerate my plans. The full moon is in five days…I'd intended to wait until then, when the pack would be at maximum strength but also maximum vulnerability. When I could eliminate them all at once.
But maybe I can't wait. Maybe I need to act now, before Hartley tells Vivienne everything. Before she transforms. Before I lose her completely to the monster she's becoming.
I pull out my mobile, dialing a number I haven't called in months.
"It's Edmund. I need the team mobilized. Yes, earlier than planned. We move in four days." I pause, listening. "Because the situation has escalated. My daughter is compromised. The Alpha knows I'm onto them. We can't wait for the full moon."
More protests from the other end.
"I don't care about optimal conditions. I care about eliminating the threat before it's too late." My grip tightens on the phone. "Four days. Coordinate with the surveillance team. I want every pack member's location mapped. I want entry points identified. I want silver rounds distributed and UV equipment tested."
A question about casualties.
"Whatever it takes. This ends in four days, one way or another."
I hang up and look toward Thornfield House, where Vivienne's window shows a faint light. She's awake. Probably crying. Probably questioning everything I've ever told her.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the darkness. "But I can't lose you the way I lost your mother. Even if you hate me for it. Even if you never forgive me."
I'll save her from the monster inside her, even if it costs me everything.
Even if it costs her everything too.
Because that's what fathers do.
They protect their children.
No matter the cost.