Chapter 38– Wolves in the Fog
Chapter 38– Wolves in the Fog
Frost bit the stone edges of Moonridge’s courtyard as the sun crept above the peaks, casting thin gold across the estate. In the early hush, warriors moved like shadows; silent, efficient, unaware they were pawns on a board being quietly overturned.
Cassian stood at the edge of the training yard, arms folded across his chest, watching them shift through drills.
He didn't speak.
Not yet.
The men needed to believe this was routine. That their Alpha, while stern and silent, was simply preparing for the border patrol scheduled two nights from now.
He needed the lie to breathe a little longer.
Footsteps approached. Roran.
“The cloak’s been treated,” Roran said without preamble. “Scent-bound and enchanted. Luken’s frame matches yours closely enough, and he volunteered.”
“Good,” Cassian murmured. “Keep the details limited. No more than four others. If this leaks…”
“It won’t,” Roran said. “My trackers are loyal. Luken included.”
Cassian nodded, his eyes still on the yard. “When the time comes, he rides the patrol route as me. And I disappear into the mist.”
“We’ll shadow the decoy from two angles,” Roran said. “Eastern edge of the Hollow Trail, and the north ridge overlook. If the traitors move, we’ll see them. If they attack…”
Cassian's jaw flexed. “We capture, not kill. We need proof—names, motives, not just bodies.”
Behind them, the sound of steel clashing on steel rang out, warriors sparring in pairs, oblivious to the true war forming beneath their feet.
Footsteps again, heavier and deliberate.
Kael.
Cassian didn’t turn. “You’re late.”
Kael stopped beside him. “Had to avoid Elira’s questions.”
Cassian finally looked at him, gaze unreadable. “She’s suspicious?”
“She’s always suspicious. But I told her I had command briefings.”
Cassian looked back to the training field. “You used to hate lying.”
Kael exhaled. “I still do.”
There was a stretch of silence between them. Not peace, not hostility. Just the lingering ache of a broken bond not yet mended.
“She asked me last night if I was excited for the mating ceremony,” Kael said suddenly.
Cassian didn’t react.
“I told her I don’t think it’ll happen.”
Cassian glanced at him. “Because of what we’re planning?”
Kael shook his head. “Because she’s not the Luna. She’s never been.”
Cassian’s expression didn’t shift, but something in his shoulders eased.
\---
Inside the war room, the air was heavy with lamp-oil and old parchment. Maps were unrolled across the long table, drawn with scent trails, vantage points, and fallback markers.
Roran leaned over the Hollow’s Ridge section and tapped three points with a smudged finger.
“This is where the feint begins. Luken rides here, scent masked, posture mimicked. If they’ve been watching you carefully, it should be enough.”
Cassian crossed his arms. “And when they follow?”
“We let them believe it’s going to plan. We have snare lines set along this stretch” he pointed “and two trackers hidden beneath the tree shelf above. If the attackers confirm a kill and move to report, we intercept.”
“Who do you think they'll send?” Kael asked.
Cassian’s gaze hardened. “Not Verin himself. Too cautious. And Gabriel won’t risk exposure.”
“They might use Crescent wolves,” Roran said. “Outsiders. Clean hands, no Moonridge loyalty.”
“They’d be stupid to,” Kael muttered. “Foreign scent on a local patrol is easy to trace.”
“They're getting desperate,” Cassian said. “And when men get desperate, they forget the wind carries more than smell, it carries guilt.”
He turned to Kael.
“What about Elira? Has she said anything about the patrol? Any signs she suspects?”
Kael hesitated. “She thinks the assassination will happen, but she assumes I’m still part of it.”
“And are you?” Cassian asked, sharp.
Kael didn’t flinch. “Not anymore.”
Cassian studied him for a long moment. “You loved her once.”
“I still do,” Kael admitted. “But it’s not the same.”
“Because you realized she doesn’t love you?”
Kael’s jaw clenched. “Because I realized she never loved anyone. Not me. Not you. Just power. She’s not building a bond, she’s building a throne.”
Cassian said nothing, but inside, something cracked. Too soft for sound, too deep for anger. A long grief, folding in on itself like an old scar.
\---
The following morning, word was quietly sent through the outer ranks that the patrol would proceed as planned, nothing unusual, no change in formation.
Elira greeted the news with a radiant smile.
“I’ve commissioned my formal cloak,” she told one of her attendants, loud enough for others to hear. “The seamstress thinks it will be ready by the time he returns. Perfect for the mating ceremony.”
Cassian passed by her in the hallway, offering a brief nod and no smile.
She watched him go, her lips curling slightly. “You should rest before your journey,” she called after him. “You’ll need your strength.”
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to.
She wouldn’t see his face again until the veil dropped, and the fire swallowed the mask.
\---
Back in the war room that night, Roran rolled out a final parchment. This one marked a second layer of security.
“We place Kael on a flanking arc here,” Roran said. “He’s known to be in your command ring. If the attackers see him, they won’t assume betrayal.”
“And if they try to use him as confirmation?” Cassian asked.
“I’ll deal with it,” Kael said.
Cassian didn’t ask how.
There were some truths better left unsaid, some debts better paid in silence.
“Keep the perimeter tight,” Cassian said. “No one breathes a word beyond this room.”
Roran looked between the two of them. “If this goes wrong…”
Cassian’s voice was quiet but sharp.
“It won’t.”
\---
That evening, standing at the ridge above the valley, Cassian looked down at the winding trail his double would take two nights from now.
The snow had begun to melt along the southern banks. If it held, there would be muddy prints, clear scent trails, sharp ridgelines.
It would be perfect hunting weather.
And this time, the wolves weren’t coming for rabbits.
They were walking into the snare.
Cassian closed his eyes briefly, letting the cold wind hit his face.
He thought of Thalia, not as Luna, not as legend, but as the girl he had let go.