Ronan Blackwood hadn’t really slept in five days.
He liked to blame the upcoming ceremony—the three neighboring Alphas coming to see him formally bind with Briar, all the tasks Elias refused to delegate, the edgy feeling in the pack since whispers of Wren’s survival started moving faster than anyone could shut them down.
Ronan told himself a lot of things, standing at his study window, staring out at the training grounds.
He remembered Wren sparring with the younger recruits, always so patient, so steady—a kind of patience he hadn’t realized he’d undervalued until it was already gone.
“You’re brooding again.” He didn’t bother turning to look.
His mother had her own way of walking into any room, like the place belonged to her—which, honestly, used to feel reassuring.
Now it felt more like surveillance.
“I’m just thinking,” he said.
“About the ceremony.” “About Wren.” Selene’s silence was sharp, heavy.
He’d learned young what it meant; he could read her displeasure before she ever raised her voice.
“The rumors are unconfirmed,” she said at last, clipped and even.
“Border gossip.
Nothing more.” “Nova got a letter.” He finally turned to face her, watching closely for the tiniest crack in her mask.
“Someone smuggled it through the old drop point.
She showed Damian before he could take it away.” “Letters can be forged.” “Handwriting can’t—not easily.
Not something you’ve seen for nearly two decades.” He held her eyes, everything inside him going cold.
“Mother.
Did you know?
Before the ceremony.
Did you know who she really was?” Selene’s face stayed carefully blank, and that pause told him more than any confession ever could.
“I did what was necessary,” she said quietly, “to protect this pack from a threat you weren’t ready to understand.” The words hit harder than he’d expected, even after days of suspicion.
“A threat,” he echoed, his voice rough.
“She was going to be my Luna.
My mate.
You made me stand in front of everyone and break something I’d spent years building, because you decided by yourself she was a threat you had to erase.
And you never told me why.” Selene’s wall finally cracked, just a little.
Real feeling slipped through for a moment.
“If I’d told you—a Calloway bloodline resurfaced, with power older than any Alpha line now?
You’d have called it legend.
You’d have laughed, and married her anyway.
You’d have handed the whole pack system’s future to someone who didn’t even know what she held until it was far too late to keep quiet.” “So you had her tied with silver and left for rogues.” Ronan’s voice sounded hollow to his own ears.
“You tried to have her killed—your own future daughter-in-law, a girl raised in this pack, who trained beside me since childhood.
You decided killing her was simpler than telling the truth.” “I decided her death was necessary.” The last warmth in Selene’s voice vanished.
“And I’d do it again.
The other option?
Every pack answering to a single throne we didn’t choose, built on blood we can’t trust to rule any better than what we have now.” Ronan looked at her—really looked, for maybe the first time in years—and felt something crack deep inside.
“She’s alive,” he said quietly.
“Whatever you tried, it didn’t work.
If the rumors are true, if she’s coming for the ceremony—” “Then we’ll be ready.” Selene had all her calm back now, the strategist in charge again.
“The three visiting Alphas will see what we want them to see—a smooth transition, a Luna chosen without contest.
If Wren Calloway appears and shouts about ancient bloodlines, she’ll only convince them that Redthorn’s spurned Luna has lost her mind over a bond that was never meant to be.” “And if she’s not lying?” His voice scraped out, raw.
“If every word in that letter, every story that’s spread, turns out true?” Selene met him head-on, no hesitation.
“Then we handle it.
When it happens.
Not before.
But I won’t let old loyalty—or heartbreak—undo the years I’ve spent keeping us stable.
Not now.
Not with three packs waiting to see if we stumble.” She left without waiting for him to answer.
Ronan stayed at the window, watching the afternoon shadows creep over the grounds where, once, he’d believed his future was already certain.
He remembered Wren’s face at the ceremony stone—the moment right before he spoke the words that severed them.
She’d still trusted him, even with everyone whispering about Briar.
He remembered training with her before dawn, her steady encouragement, the patience that made every mistake feel like just another part of growing up.
Looking back on it now, it was clear.
He’d never stopped loving her.
He’d just let himself believe, because his mother insisted, that love was a luxury the pack couldn’t afford.
A gentle knock pulled him back.
Briar came in without waiting, wrapped in deep green, every inch the proper Luna candidate.
She looked sure, solid, nothing like the storm inside Ronan.
“Three days,” she said, stepping close and sliding her hand into the crook of his arm, all easy affection.
“I still can’t believe it’s finally happening.” He glanced down at her—beautiful, poised, everything his mother wanted for the pack—and felt only emptiness where certainty should be.
“Me neither,” he said softly, letting her believe it was enough, while outside Redthorn’s borders, the woman he had actually chosen, heart unguarded, was preparing to step back into his life—with a truth big enough to rip apart everything his mother had built to take her place.
[End of Chapter 18]