Chapter 65
Chapter 65
WADE
My jaw tightens until I feel a pulse jump along the side of it. I tell myself it’s irritation. Nothing more. It’s not nostalgia. Definitely not regret. I made my choices. I stand by them.
But the silence in this room feels like it’s staring back at me.
I move deeper into the room, slow, because if I don’t pace myself I might lose my damn temper again.
The vanity she shoved into the center of the space mocks me–feathered robes d cracked open on the wood. Glitter smears the surface like someone dragged a fai
And the desk–her desk–gone.
I don’t know why that’s the thing that pisses me off most, but it is.
the chair, makeup compacts
across it.
I drag a hand across the back of my neck, trying to push down the irritation tightening every muscle in my body. It’s stupid. It shouldn’t matter. Sorin hasn’t been in this room in… I don’t even want to count the weeks.
But it does matter.
My jaw flexes as I turn away from the vanity and toward the corner cabinet. The one Ariel never touched because it “looked old p>
Which means it’s probably the only thing in here she hasn’t contaminated with glitter and her sugar–sweet bullshit.
I pull the small cabinet open.
Dust kicks up immediately, enough that I squint. Yeah, definitely untouched. Ariel hates dust; she’d rather bark orders at five omegas than lift a cloth herself.
Inside, there’s nothing but old files, a broken pen, and some folded papers shoved toward the back. I reach in, drag one out, expecting inventory logs or roster sheets Sorin forgot to move.
But when I unfold it, the handwriting stops me cold.
Hers.
I don’t even open it yet. I just stare at the slanted cursive, the way she presses down too hard on the first letter of a line and then lightens halfway through. I remember complaining once that her handwriting looked like she wrote while running. She’d just laughed and said, “Then you try writing banquet schedules while warriors yell outside your window p>
My chest feels weirdly tight as I unfold the paper.
It isn’t a checklist of duties like I expect.
It’s reminders. For me.
Banquet Prep Checklist – Week 12
I scan down,
-Check if Wade took his meds this morning
-Bake the cinnamon muffins before he skips breakfast again
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Chapter 65
-Look over his patrol reports myself; he’s been too tired lately
-Bring him a spare shirt during training
-Check on Wade before dinner
I blink once.
Then again p>
It’s stupid that my hand tightens around the paper, but it does. The handwriting is too familiar, too damn careful. There’s nothing fancy about it–Sorin never had time to write pretty–but it’s steady. Solid. Everything she did was like that.
She’d written this in the middle of planning a banquet for six allied packs, while warriors, and keeping the elders from losing their minds.
And she still made space on the list for… muffins.
And my meds.
And making sure I ate.
My mouth feels dry, suddenly.
trol schedules, training new
Not a single task about herself. Nothing about her workload. Nothing about her. Everything is about me.
I stare at the ink until the letters blur slightly.
My first instinct is annoyance–because why the hell was she doing all this behind my back? Why didn’t she say something? Why didn’t she tell me she was doing more than her share?
But the annoyance doesn’t land the way it should. It dissolves into something heavier. Something I don’t want to name.
The worst part is none of this surprises me. She always did things quietly, like taking care of me was something she didn’t want credit for. And I never paid attention. Or maybe I did and I just… expected it. Like it was normal. Like it didn’t cost her anything.
The note rests on my knee. My thumb slides over the crease she made when she folded it.
I lower myself onto the vanity chair–not because I want to, but because my legs stop moving. The glitter on the seat clings to my palm, irritating and bright. I hate glitter. Sorin hated it too. Said it stuck to skin like regret.
I shake my head, annoyed I even remember that sentence.
The checklist flutters as I lift it again.
Small kindnesses. Ones I never asked for. Ones I didn’t think I needed. Ones I barely noticed when she did them.
I stare at the words too long. Long enough that a hollow pressure builds in my chest, something sharp sitting right behind my ribs.
I shove it down.
She tried to poison me.
That’s what I tell myself.
That’s the line.
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Chapter 65
That’s the truth Ariel and the High Priest and the damn council all hammered in until it stuck.
So why the hell does this paper feel like a punch to the throat?
I fold it once–not neatly, not carefully–and slip it into the pocket of my jacket.
Just in case.
I don’t know why.
And I’m not going to think too hard about it.
I stand again, push the chair back, and check the rest of the cabinet. A few old sea old banquet hall Sorin insisted needed better exit routes “in case of emergencies
Of course she was right. She usually was.
5
I shove everything back into the drawer, close it harder than necessary, and head for the door.
After pocketing the layout too, I step into the hallway and close the office door behind me. The corridor outside is busier than earlier–omegas darting back and forth with linens, vases, more of Ariel’s excessive decorations. The pack is trying too damn hard to look put–together for the Imperial delegation arriving tomorrow.
From the sounds of it, they’re failing.
I step into the hallway, door halfway closed behind me, when voices drift from the left.
Soft. Rushed. Whispering behind one of the stone pillars.
I pause.
“…Lady Sorin would never have let this happen p>
“I know. She actually organized things–everything’s a mess now p>
“This Saintess is nothing like her p>
A breathy laugh. “I miss Lady Sorin. Everyone does p>
My fingers curl around the edge of the doorframe.
The whispering stops when one of them giggles softly, like they’re sharing a secret that might get them killed if the wrong person hears. They don’t know I’m standing right here.
Or maybe they do, and they’re too tired to care.
My jaw grinds until tension climbs into my temples. A mix of irritation and something… else. Something I refuse to name.
Behind me, farther down the hall, Ariel’s voice slices through the noise–sharp, loud, demanding someone move a centerpiece “two inches to the left” because “the lighting makes her look washed out p>
I stare straight ahead, not at the omegas, not at the pillar hiding them.
I don’t say a damn word.
I just walk.
Their whispers follow me anyway, quiet but impossible to outrun.
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Chapter 65
Lady Sorin would never have let this happen.
No.
She wouldn’t have.
Ariel’s voice cut through again, “Where are the floral vases? I said gold trim! Gold! Not bronze, are you blind p>
Every omega within ten feet flinches.
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The contrast hits me straight in the gut. Sorin used to speak softly when she was frustrated, voice dropping instead of rising. She made people want to work harder, not because they were afraid–but becaus spected her. Because she respected them.
I clench my teeth hard enough my molars feel it.
No.
I am not doing this.
I made my decision. I chose the pack. I chose what I believed was right.
I walk past the pillar without looking their way and head down the corridor. Ariel’s shrill voice follows me like a headache that won’t let up.
The hallway stretches long in front of me, full of too–bright lights and the rapid shuffle of exhausted staff trying to keep up with a woman who can’t organize a broom closet without causing a scene.
I keep moving.
Because if I slow down, those whispers might get under my skin more than they already have.
And I’m not ready-
not willing-
to deal with what that means.
Not yet.
Ariel turns when she senses me. She always senses me. Her mouth curves into a smile that doesn’t reach her
“You’re late,” she says.
“I’m not,” I reply. “The delegation isn’t due for another hour p>
She scoffs. “That’s what you said last time p>
I step further inside, the floor creaking under my weight. “Last time, they arrived early. Like today p>
Her jaw tightens. “Then why are you standing here instead of making sure the courtyard is ready p>
eyes.
Because I needed to see this. Because I needed to remind myself why I chose this path. Because if I don’t look directly at the mess, it starts whispering Sorin’s name an accusation.
“I came to check on you,” I say instead.
She snorts. “ Liar p>
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I don’t deny it.
She waves the omegas out with a flick of her wrist. They scatter fast, relief written all over their faces. The door shuts behind them, and the room drops into a tense quiet.
Ariel steps closer and grips my arm, nails biting through fabric. Her voice lowers, sweet and brittle at the same time. “The High Priest is arriving early p>
That makes my spine stiffen. “Early how p>
“Now.” Her fingers tighten. “You will greet him properly. You will make him feel welcome. And you will not embarrass me p>
I look down at her hand on my arm. At the slight swell of her belly beneath the about it.
“I’ve never embarrassed you,” I say.
Her smile slips. Just a little. “Don’t start p>
“I’m not starting anything p>
“Good,” she snaps. “Because I don’t have the patience today p>
Neither do I. But I nod anyway.
myself not to think too hard
We move through the halls together. The pack is buzzing now–footsteps, murmurs, the sound of banners being adjusted and weapons being polished for show. Everyone’s tense. Everyone’s watching.
The front courtyard opens up in a wash of light and noise. Guards snap to attention. Elders cluster near the steps. The ceremonial path is laid out perfectly–too perfectly. Overcompensating.
The High Priest’s carriage rolls in, dark wood etched with temple sigils. It stops, and the door opens.
He steps out slowly, robes pristine, eyes sharp. His gaze finds Ariel immediately.
And lingers.
Too long.
Ariel straightens, her smile turning radiant, practiced. She glides forward, voice honeyed. “High Priest Edmund. What an honor p>
He bows, but his eyes don’t soften. If anything, they narrow. “Ariel p>
That word lands strange. They’re on a first name basis?
High Priest Edmund.
I know this man.
Everyone here does, even if they pretend not to. High Priest Mitchell didn’t just stumble into Ariel’s life–he pulled her out of the wreckage of the war himself, raised her in the temple halls, taught her how to pray pretty and speak softer than she meant. He’s the reason she was found at all. The reason she was crowned saintess instead of left to rot in some forgotten refugee camp.
And that title matters. Gods, it matters too much.
A saintess isn’t just rare–she’s leverage. Power wrapped in silk and blessings. The only reason the Imperial Pack hasn’t already claimed her for the King is because I asked Sorin to write that letter. Because I asked her to protect Woodridge, to
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Chapter 65
tell them we found the sain
first, that Ariel belonged here.
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I remember Sorin sealing that letter without hesitation. Like she was protecting the pack instead of signing away a future she didn’t even know she was losing.
Because of that letter, Ariel stands untouchable now. Not Luna–not officially–but close enough that no one dares cross her. Omegas bite their tongues. Elders avert their eyes. Even the guards straighten when she passes.
Saintess outranks courtesy. Outranks doubt.
And watching her smile at the man who raised her–watching his eyes linger where they shouldn’t–I get the sick, crawling sense that whatever I thought I secured back then…
…I might’ve only delayed the damage.
He reaches for her hand. She lets him kiss her knuckles, then presses closer than necessary. I watch his throat bob as his eyes flick–just once–to her belly.
Something twists in me.
Ariel’s fingers dig into my arm again, hard enough to hurt. “Wade,” she murmurs without looking at me, “escort the High Priest inside. Make sure he’s comfortable p>
Her tone leaves no room for argument.
I nod and gesture toward the doors. “This way p>
As we walk, I feel his gaze on me. Measuring. Suspicious.
Inside, the air feels thicker. The priest slows, his voice low. “The pack seems… strained p>
“Preparations always are,” I reply.
“Mm.” He hums. “And the saintess p>
I glance back toward the courtyard doors, where Ariel is already barking orders again. “She’s under a lot of pressure p>
“So I see p>
There’s something unsaid there. Something sharp.
Before I can ask, my Beta appears at my side, breathless. “Alpha. Imperial Pack scouts just crossed the outer borders. They’ll be here sooner than expected p>
My heart drops.
Sooner than expected.
The room feels suddenly too small. Too quiet. Like the world’s holding its breath.
I nod once. “Get everyone into position p>
As he leaves, that heavy feeling settles deeper, pressing against my ribs.
I don’t know why my thoughts drift there. Why her name ghosts through my head like a curse.
But as the horns sound in the distance–deep, powerful, unmistakable–I know, with a certainty that makes my palms sweat
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Chapter 65
Something is coming.
And whatever it is, it’s going to tear this place open.
H
田
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