Chapter Eighty-five

Chapter Eighty-five
Chapter 85

Elena’s POV

The fortress was quieter at night, but silence had never fooled me. Silence was only the mask beneath which storms gathered. And tonight, the air itself was restless, prickling with something unresolved.

I walked the stone corridors with a lantern in one hand, the flame trembling as much as my bones. Age weighed heavy on me, but years of watching packs rise and fall, of secrets whispered in corners and blood spilled in shadows, had sharpened my eyes more than dulled them.

And my eyes were on Edgar.

He carried himself like a man fractured. He thought no one noticed, the way his hand trembled when he lifted his cup, the way his gaze lingered on Lia’s retreating form, or the way exhaustion shadowed his face as though he’d stopped sleeping. But I noticed. I always noticed.

The boy, no, the Alpha, was unraveling.

And I suspected why.

Earlier, I had passed Lia in the courtyard. She stood alone near the fountain, arms wrapped around herself, her lips pressed in a thin line. She did not see me at first, her gaze was somewhere far away, heavy with questions that had no answers.

When she finally looked up, I saw the fracture in her heart.

That was when my suspicions began to knot together.

Something sat between them. A shadow. A secret. Something Edgar refused to share, and Lia refused to accept in silence.

It was dangerous. Secrets had always been the poison of packs.

And this one, I feared, was not small.

I found Edgar not long after. He stood outside, by the old shrine stone, shoulders hunched like a man confessing to ghosts. His lips moved, though no one stood near him. I did not hear his words, but I did not need to.

I had seen enough men speak to the goddess in desperation to know the shape of the plea.

When he turned and walked away, I stepped closer to the shrine, laying my palm against the cold stone. The surface thrummed faintly with energy. Desperation leaves traces, and Edgar’s desperation was carved deep.

My chest tightened.

This secret of his, it was consuming him. And if it consumed him fully, it would consume Lia too. And the pack.

Later that night, I sat alone in my chamber, the lantern low, my thoughts heavy.

Memories pressed in, memories of Edgar’s mother, the whispers of betrayal, the cursed weight he had carried since youth. I had been there through the early years, had seen the cracks forming even then. He had always borne too much, too young.

But this? This was different.

This was not the silent endurance of an Alpha. This was a man hiding something so dangerous it might shatter the bond he fought to protect.

And Lia… sweet, fierce Lia. She deserved the truth. She had already bled and fought for him in ways few would ever understand. And yet Edgar held back, shielding her from something I feared she had the right to face.

The goddess had strange ways of weaving fates, but even she could not mend bonds strangled by silence.

By morning, whispers had already begun among the younger wolves. They noticed Lia’s absence from the Alpha’s side during council, the coolness between them during meals. Wolves thrive on unity; any sign of division becomes a spark for rumor.

I quelled them where I could, but sparks have a way of smoldering until they find fuel.

And fuel was everywhere.

I knew I could not wait much longer.

If Edgar refused to speak, the truth would claw its way out by other means. And those means were never kind.

I crossed paths with him again in the library that afternoon. He stood by the shelves, one hand braced against the wood, his eyes scanning a page without truly reading. The weight on his shoulders was visible even in the stillness.

“Alpha,” I greeted softly.

His head snapped up, eyes dark, guarded. “Brie.”

“You have not slept,” I said plainly.

A flicker of irritation passed over his face. “I manage.”

“You do not manage,” I countered. “You wither. And she withers with you.”

His jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing, only closed the book and set it aside. His silence told me more than words could.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Secrets rot faster when buried. And you, Edgar, are not the only one they will poison.”

His eyes hardened. “This is my burden.”

“No,” I whispered. “This is hers too. She is your mate. Your equal. You insult her strength when you decide what truths she can and cannot bear.”

For a moment, I thought he might break. His lips parted, his chest rose sharply, as though the words fought their way up. But just as quickly, he sealed them again, swallowing everything.

“Not yet,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not now.”

And then he left me standing there, my heart heavy with dread.

That night, I dreamed of Lia. She stood at the center of the pack’s hall, fire blazing in her eyes, her voice fierce and unyielding. She demanded the truth, demanded respect, demanded the right to stand not as shadow but as Alpha’s mate in her own power.

The dream felt more like prophecy than fantasy.

When I woke, I knew what I had to do.

The bond between mates is sacred. But when one half of that bond refuses to speak, it is the duty of those who love them to guide them back before silence destroys them both.

I would not betray Edgar. But I would not sit idle while Lia drowned in questions either.

So I began to watch more closely, to listen more carefully. The subtle words exchanged in corridors, the way Edgar stiffened whenever his mother’s name was mentioned, the way his gaze flickered to Lia as though begging forgiveness for something unsaid.

Piece by piece, the picture grew clearer.

And piece by piece, I prepared myself.

Because if Edgar did not tell her soon.

I would.