Chapter 69: Secrets in the Soot

Chapter 69: Secrets in the Soot
\- ROWAN
The priest hole was a vertical coffin of soot and cold stone.
I sat with my knees pulled to my chest, my back against the rough-hewn granite of the chimney breast. The air was stale, tasting of ash and the faint, metallic tang of the manor’s plumbing. It was a space designed for hiding, for holding one’s breath until the danger passed, but for me, it was a pressure cooker.
Every time a floorboard creaked above me, my hand went to the grip of my sidearm. Every distant door slam sounded like a gavel.
Then, I heard it. A heavy thud of boots on the library floor, followed by the distinctive clink of a crystal decanter hitting a glass.
"The guests are finally clear of the valley," a voice rumbled. It was Varick, Kaelen’s lead enforcer. I’d seen him through the scope for weeks—a man who moved like a landslide and had the conscience of a shark.
"Good," Kaelen’s voice followed. It was closer, vibrating through the stones I was leaning against. He sounded exhausted, but it was that wired, manic exhaustion of a man who’s just tasted blood. "Thorne and Melvin are fools. They actually think the 'Peace Accord' is about trade. They’re already arguing over grain tariffs and timber rights in the hall."
I leaned my ear against the mortar, every muscle in my body locking into place.
"They’re distracted," Varick grunted. "The border patrols have already started pulling back from the neutral zones as agreed. By tomorrow night, the Southern Pass will be completely open."
"And that’s when we move the silver," Kaelen said. I heard the liquid swirl in his glass. "I don't care about the grain, Varick. I want the mountain. The treaty gives us 'administrative oversight' of the old mines under the guise of ecological restoration. The other Alphas won't even realize we’re extracting the raw ore until I’ve got enough silver-tipped rounds to arm every scout in the Silver Ridge."
My blood ran cold. He wasn't just planning a war; he was planning a massacre. Silver Ridge was the one thing that levelled the playing field between packs. If Kaelen controlled the supply, he didn't need a treaty. He’d have a leash on the entire continent.
"And the 'neutral' waystations?" Varick asked.
"Kill boxes," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to a low, clinical purr. "We build them according to the blueprints Selene... helped me finalize. Once the outposts are manned by 'joint' forces, my men will occupy the high ground. When I give the signal, the other packs will be trapped in the valleys with nowhere to run and no silver to fight back with."
The bastard. He’d used Selene’s eye for detail, her knowledge of the terrain, to design the very traps that would slaughter her people. He’d turned her brilliance into a weapon against her.
"Speaking of the Luna," Varick’s voice took on a cautious edge. "She’s been... active. My men reported her in the gardens earlier. She claimed she tripped, but she was near the old potting sheds."
I held my breath. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I was afraid they’d hear it through the wall.
"I know," Kaelen said. A long pause followed. I could almost picture him staring into the dying embers of the fire, his jaw set. "She’s hiding something. She thinks she’s being subtle, playing the part of the dutiful mate, but there’s a coldness in her eyes that wasn't there before. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing a predator staring back."
"Should I increase the guard on her?"
"No," Kaelen snapped. "If you squeeze her too hard, she’ll stop performing. I want to see how far she’s willing to go. I want to see who she’s talking to. She’s the only thing in this house that still surprises me, Varick. Everyone else is predictable. But Selene... she’s become a masterpiece of defiance."
"And the other one? The girl, Vireya?"
"Keep the 'illness' story going for another forty-eight hours," Kaelen said. "Once the silver starts moving through the pass, we won't need the bloodline alliance anymore. If she dies in her sleep, it’s a tragedy that unites the packs in grief. If she recovers... well, we’ll cross that bridge when we’ve burned the others."
He was going to kill Vireya. The moment the treaty served its purpose, he’d dispose of the evidence. And Selene would be next—or worse, she’d be kept as a trophy in a world where she had no one left to turn to.
"One more thing," Varick added. "The perimeter guards at the Black Flue didn't check in for the midnight rotation."
I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I shifted my weight, my hand tightening on my knife.
"Probably hit the flask and fell asleep in the brush," Kaelen muttered, though he sounded unconvinced. "Send a detail to check. If they’ve deserted, hang them from the south gate as a reminder. We’re too close to the end to tolerate cowards."
"Understood, Alpha."
I heard the sound of boots retreating across the library. A heavy door creaked open and shut. Silence returned to the room, broken only by the crackle of the fire on the other side of the stones.
Kaelen was still there. I could hear his breathing—ragged, uneven.
"I know what you think, Selene," he whispered.
My heart stopped. For a terrifying second, I thought he was looking right at the hidden panel. But then I realized he was talking to the empty room, or perhaps to the ghost of her he kept in his head.
"You think you’re the one holding the knife," he continued, his voice barely audible. "But I’m the one who sharpened it. Run if you want. Try to break the cage. It only makes the hunt more interesting."
A glass shattered against the hearth. I flinched as the shards rained down on the stone just inches from my hiding spot. Then, the heavy tread of his boots moved away, heading toward the hall, toward the stairs.
Toward her.
I stayed in the dark, the rage inside me finally cooling into a hard, sharp edge. I have the information now. The treaty was a sham, the silver was the goal, and Vireya was marked for death.
But I also knew something Kaelen didn't.
He thought he was the only predator in the house. He thought he was playing a game with a bird in a cage. He had no idea that the "Black Flue" wasn't just a drain, and that the man who had killed his guards was sitting three feet away from him, separated only by a layer of soot and spite.
I activated my mind-link, keeping my voice at a whisper.
"Galen," I said in my thought.
"I’m here," the response came back through the static. "Status?"
"The treaty is a front for a silver grab," I said, my voice cold. "He’s planning a sweep of the valleys once the outposts are manned. And he’s going to clear the board of Vireya within two days."
"Copy that. What about Selene?"
"She’s the target of a psychological game," I said. "He’s onto her, Galen. He’s letting her move so he can see who she leads him to. We can't wait for the third night. The manual gate window is our only shot, but we have to move the timeline up."
"Understood. We’re ready on this end. Rowan... be careful. The manor is tightening up."
"Let it tighten," I said, looking up at the ceiling. "I’m already inside the throat of the beast. Now I just have to wait for it to swallow."
I clicked off the radio and leaned my head back against the stone. The darkness of the priest hole felt less like a coffin now and more like a cocoon. I closed my eyes, visualizing the map Selene had drawn, the strategic points Kaelen had subverted, and the face of the man who thought he owned her.
Kaelen wanted a masterpiece of defiance? I was going to give him a goddamn gallery.
I sat there in the silence, counting the minutes until dawn, listening to the house sleep. Above me, I hoped Selene was as cold and hard as the stone I was leaning on. I hoped she was dreaming of fire.
Because tomorrow, the Silver Ridge Pack was going to burn.