Chapter 220
Morning arrived without ceremony.
Gray light slid across the floor of the cabin and pooled against the baseboards, turning dust into a fine silver haze that shifted when I breathed. I woke to the sound of water boiling on the small stove and the faint, bitter smell of cheap coffee burning just a little too long. My muscles ached in the quiet way they did after too many nights spent half alert, never fully downshifting. I sat up slowly, testing my balance, listening to the house breathe around us. The wood popped softly as it warmed. Somewhere outside, a bird called once and then went quiet.
Ben was already awake.
He stood at the narrow counter, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight as he poured coffee into mismatched mugs we had scavenged from three different places. He did not look at me when I moved, but I felt his awareness sharpen anyway, that instinctive tracking he never fully turned off.
“You didn’t sleep,” I said.
He shrugged without turning. “I slept enough.”
That was a lie. We both knew it.
I swung my legs off the bed and pulled my boots on, lacing them slowly, deliberately. The leather creaked softly under my fingers. Day to day motions mattered right now. Small routines. Repetition. They anchored me in a body that still belonged to me, in a present moment that had not yet exploded.
My phone vibrated on the table.
Morgan.
I answered without speaking, thumb steady despite the tension humming just under my skin.
“We are moving forward,” she said. No preamble. No hesitation. “Ezra is with me.”
I took a breath and let it out slowly. “What does moving forward look like.”
“An open challenge,” Ezra cut in, his voice tight, clipped. “One he cannot refuse without exposing himself.”
I glanced at Ben. His shoulders had gone rigid, his hand freezing mid-motion over the counter.
“A gathering,” Morgan continued. “Small. Public enough to carry weight. Private enough to control. Silvermen will read it as an opportunity.”
I leaned back against the table, fingers curling around the edge, grounding myself in
the cool metal. “You want him to come to us.”
“Yes.”
“And you want me there,” I said.
Silence stretched for half a beat. Long enough to matter.
“I do,” Morgan said carefully. “And I will not order you.”
Ben turned sharply, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the mug. “Absolutely not.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Counted one breath. Two. Let the surge settle.
“Ben,” Morgan said. “Let her speak.”
He did not respond. His jaw flexed, teeth grinding audibly.
I opened my eyes. “I will be the bait.”
The word landed hard in the room, heavy enough to feel physical.
“No,” Ben said. He stepped toward me, coffee forgotten on the counter, his movements abrupt and unguarded. “You are not doing this. This is exactly how he got your faşi time.”
“This time is different,” I said.
“You said that before.”
I met his gaze and did not look away. “Before, I did not know what I was. Before, he controlled the narrative. He does not anymore.”
Ben shook his head, anger bleeding through his restraint, scent sharp and raw. “You think knowing that stops him from putting his hands on you.”
“No,” I said quietly. “But it stops him from owning me.”
Ezra spoke again, cautious now. “Savannah, if you volunteer, the plan changes. The risk increases.”
“I know,” I said. “And so does the certainty.”
Ben’s voice cracked, the sound catching in his throat before he could stop it. “You
are talking like this is strategy. You are not expendable.”
I took a step closer to him, close
enough that I could feel the heat of his body the tension radiating off himol am not expendable said am essential. That is the difference.”
He stared at me like he did not recognize the person standing in front of him. Like the lines he had drawn in his head no longer matched the shape of reality.
Morgan’s presence pressed closer through the bond, steady and grounding. “Savannah.”
“Yes.”
“If you do this,” she said, “you do it as an Alpha. Not as bait to be taken.”
Ben let out a harsh laugh, more pain than humor in it. “You cannot be serious.”