Chapter Forty Three — Secrets Under The Moonlight

Chapter Forty Three — Secrets Under The Moonlight

The night was thick with silence.

Even the forest seemed to breathe scarcely at all as I padded by the palisade, huddled in my cloak. The moonlight made the trees silver skeletons, the branches claws extending out over the path.
I moved stealthily, though every crunch of leaves underfoot sounded too loud, too deadly. I had not warned Lucien about the message. I would have been forbidden to go, or worse yet—he would have gone with me, and whoever was waiting in ambush would have withdrawn.

No, this was mine. My choice, my risk.

The ancient well lay on the farthest edge of our territory, where rock walls had eroded to rubble and ivy choked what once had been a meeting place. It was where furtive whispers were made by young wolves, a refuge for ghost stories and challenges. Tonight it was a platform, and I walked freely into its center.

The wind shifted, and the scent of wolf filled my nostrils. My senses heightened.

"Show yourself," I whispered, my tone steady against the pounding in my chest.

A broad-shouldered man stepped out of the darkness near the well. A man scarred down his jaw. A friend of Roran's, and one whom I recognized: Taron. He had fought on the border, and I had seen him with a sword. Why would he risk this?

He kept his hands in sight, his eyes nervously flicking toward the trees. "Luna." He nodded his head, not so much bowing. "You came."

"I did." I inspected him, all my senses reaching out. "You wrote the note?"

"Yes." His voice was low and nearly hoarse. "I shouldn't be here. If Roran knew—" He hesitated, swallowing hard.

"Then hurry," I urged. "Why did you summon me?"

His eyes flicked back to the woods, as if expecting teeth to leap from the shadows. "Because you need to know. The blade in Halric's back—wasn't just Roran. He has more. He's been gathering them for months. In secret. Promising things he can't deliver, but they listen because…"

He stopped.

"Because what?" I pressed.

His jaw clenched. "Because he says the pack suffers under human management. That you've blinded the Alpha, compromised him. That soon we'll be nothing but prey to the Ravagers and every other wolf who smells the scent of weakness."

The words cut, worse than any blade. But I fixed my face unyielding. "And you? Do you believe so?

Taron's head rattled back and forth quickly. "No. I've seen you fight. I've seen the way the younglings look at you. But others—others are listening to you."

The night seemed to push in around me, the stones of the well cold against my back. "You risked your life telling me this. Why?

He hesitated again, and something guttural flickered through his eyes. "Because if he succeeds, Luna, there'll be no pack left of the one I swore to. He doesn't want to lead. He wants to own."

I stood there staring at him for a long time. He was sweating despite the cold, his fists curled tight at his sides. Fear emanated off him in waves. This wasn't acting—it was reality. Or at least, his reality.

"Who else?" I commanded. "Names."

His lips parted, but the words weren't there.

A branch creaked in the trees.

We both froze.

Out of the shadows stepped men—three, four, five. Wolves with eyes like ice and faces I knew. Men who had stood beside Roran at council. Men who had laughed with him in the training grounds.

I felt my blood freeze.

It seems, one of them murmured mischievously, "that the Luna wandered off by herself."

Taron's face turned white. "No—no, I wasn't followed, I—"

The wolves closed in, cutting off escape. Their grins were cruel, teeth flashing in moonlight.

And then the last figure appeared.

Roran.

He looked at me with slow, deliberate amusement. "Luna," he said softly. "Out here? Alone? That's. imprudent.".

My heart thudded, but I stood up straight, not to be intimidated. "You sent the message."

He widened his smile. "Not me. But I'm glad you answered it."

I cast a side-glaring look at Taron, whose face looked as though the ground could swallow him whole. Betrayal or trap—it was not effective. The knife had already been flipped.

"What is this?" I barked, voice firm.

"A choice," Roran said. He strolled a slow circle, his wolves keeping pace with him, their steps in sync like an attack pack. "You stand there, with one of my men leaning close to whisper treachery in your ear, in darkness. What would your precious Alpha do with that, I wonder? Will he suppose you came seeking loyalty? Or will he suppose the truth—that the Luna spins her own deceit?"

The words dripped poison. Every syllable designed not for me, but for the ears of others. For the whispers that would follow.

Taron shook his head violently. “No, it’s not—”

A fist cracked across his jaw before he could finish. He staggered, spitting blood.

“Enough.” My voice rang through the trees, sharp with command. “Touch him again, and you’ll answer to me.”

The wolves stopped, but Roran simply smiled wider, like a cat at the mouse's death gasp. "Valiant words. But you're alone, Luna. You're without an Alpha to guard you. You're without a council to hear your version of what happens. What happens here, tonight, will be how I tell it."

The air was thick with menace. I could sense the weight of their bodies, the heat of their eyes. All my instincts cried out for me to shift, to bare fang and claw—but that was what Roran was looking for. A fight. A spectacle. Proof of "uncontrolled human temper" to twist before the pack.

I enforced quiet. "If you mean to kill me, do it. But hear this—wolves respond to strength, not to soft speech. And if I die tonight, Lucien will soil the earth with your blood before morning."

The smile on Roran's face faltered for the first time, ever so slightly. His men stirred uncomfortably upon hearing the mention of the Alpha's name.

The silence stretched on.

Then he laughed—a soft, cruel sound. "Not tonight, Luna. Not yet. Tonight was just a test. To see what mask you wear when no one else is around."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "And I know now. You're scared."

I glared at him, my fingers tightening between my palms. "No. I'm angry."

Something flickered in his eyes at that, but he said nothing more. He stood up, sending his men back.

Taron collapsed in relief, but my anger surged. This wasn't victory. It was intimidation.

As Roran began to leave, his last words wrapped like fog on the darkness.

"Watch your steps well, Luna. You may learn you can find the knife in the pack faster than you think."

And then they were gone, vanishing among the trees like ghosts, leaving me with Taron bleeding beside me and the echo of danger drumming through the darkness.

I stayed there, racing heart, realizing with cold assurance that this was no longer whispers in corridors or tests in hallways. This was war, not with rivals at the border—but with wolves within my walls.

And Roran had just declared it.