LYSANDER

I turned to the filing cabinet where father had kept records of everything. Every pack member. Every transaction. Every piece of leverage he’d collected over decades of leadership. I pulled open drawers until I found what I needed.

Fia’s file sat wedged between reports on border patrols and supply orders.

It was even thicker than the last time I’d seen it. Which told me that father had started taking notes. There was now page after page of documentation tracking her movements. The best he could manage, with no new spies in Skollrend at his disposal. There was also believed observations about her relationship with Cian.

I pulled the entire folder free and carried it to the fireplace.

The first page curled when I fed it to the flames. Black spread across white in patterns that looked almost artistic before the paper crumbled into ash. I added another. Then another. Building a rhythm that felt meditative in its monotony.

The rhytem was simple: Feed the fire, watch it burn, then repeat.

I threw in whole sections at once. The fire roared higher, consuming Father’s obsessive delusions with the same indifference it showed to truth. Heat washed over my face. Sweat beaded along my hairline. I didn’t step back.

Page after page after page.

Every piece of evidence that might have further put Fia in danger continued to disappear into flame and ash. I worked methodically. I checked every sheet to make sure nothing remained that could be used against her later. Some documents I skimmed. Others I read completely despite knowing they’d just fuel my anger at a dead man who couldn’t defend himself.

The folder emptied.

I checked the cabinet again. Found two more files labeled with Fia’s name in different contexts. Those went into the fire too. Then I searched the desk. The shelves. Anywhere he might have hidden additional documentation.

But there was nothing.

The study held other secrets, but none that concerned Fia. I left those alone. Destroying everything would raise questions if there was any suspicion in the future that I wouldn’t want to answer.

The fire had died down to coals by the time I finished.

I stood there watching embers pulse with fading light. The room smelled like smoke and burning paper. Ash coated my hands in fine gray powder that reminded me uncomfortably of the wolfsbane I’d used on Hazel and father himself.

I washed my hands in the small basin father kept for ink stains.

The water turned dark. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, then dried off on a towel that would need to be burned later. Every detail mattered now. Every piece of evidence that might contradict the story I needed to tell had to be eliminated or explained.

I looked around the study one final time.

Nothing appeared disturbed beyond the empty fireplace and the gaps in the filing cabinet where Fia’s records had been which I could easily cover up since no one aside me was really allowed here.

I left.

The hallway stretched quiet and empty still. Dawn couldn’t be far off now. I could feel it in the way the darkness had started to thin. In the subtle shift from deepest night to that liminal space before sunrise.

I needed to be outside when they found me.

I walked downstairs and through the main hall. The front door opened without sound. Cold air hit my face, carrying scents of dead leaves, earth and the distant promise of rain. I stepped onto the porch and looked up.

The sky had started its transition.

Deep blue bled across what had been pure black, pushing the stars into transparency. The horizon showed the barest hint of lighter color. Dawn wasn’t here yet, but it was close. Close enough that pack members would start stirring soon. Close enough that someone would notice the Alpha’s son standing outside covered in blood.

I walked toward the training grounds.

Movement caught my eye before I made it halfway. Figures emerged from the treeline to my left. Three of them. Pack members who had finally overcame their rut and heat probably. They moved with the easy confidence of wolves on familiar ground.

Then they saw me.

The shift in their body language was immediate. Their relaxed postures went rigid. Easy strides became alert stalking. They broke into a run, closing the distance between us with speed that would have been impressive if I wasn’t so focused on what came next.

They were naked.

Which for me meant they approached with nothing to hide their immediate reactions. No fabric to mask the way their muscles tensed when they got close enough to see details.

"Alpha Lysander!" The lead wolf skidded to a stop three feet away. He was a young man whose face had gone pale despite the exertion of running. "What happened?"

I swayed.

The motion came naturally. My body had been running on nothing but adrenaline and willpower for too long. Adding a performance to that depletion wasn’t difficult. I let my knees buckle slightly. Let my weight shift like I was fighting to stay upright.

"Hazel," I said, making my voice hoarse and broken. "She killed him. She killed my father."

"What?" One of the others moved closer. A woman who’d been with the pack since before I was even born. Her hand reached out like she wanted to steady me but wasn’t sure if she should touch. "Where is he? Where’s Alpha Wenzel?"

"Upstairs. In my mother’s room. I tried to stop her but—" I cut myself off. Let the words choke into something that might have been a sob or might have been rage. Hard to tell. It didn’t even matter as long as it sounded genuine.

The man looked at the woman and some silent communication was passed between them that I was probably meant to miss. The third wolf, a teenager whose name escaped me, had gone even paler than the older male.

"We need to see him." the woman’s voice carried the kind of authority that came from decades of pack life. "You, go wake the council. Get healers up to the Alpha’s quarters. And you—" She pointed at the teenager. "—spread the word. The Alpha is dead."

The boy nodded and took off running toward the pack houses.

The older man hesitated. "Should someone stay with Alpha Lysander?"

"I’m fine." I put steel into the words despite the way I was still swaying. "Go. They need to know what happened. What she did."

He went.

The woman remained. She studied me with eyes that had seen too much to be easily fooled. I held her gaze and let her look. Let her see the blood coating me. The cuts. The swelling. The evidence of violence that told its own story.

"Where is Hazel now?" she asked.

"Dead." I said it flatly. "I killed her. She murdered my father and I couldn’t... I didn’t think. I just..." I trailed off. Let the implication hang that rage had overcome reason. That I’d acted in grief-fueled vengeance rather than calculated murder.

Her expression shifted. Not quite sympathy. More like understanding mixed with resignation. "You should sit down before you fall down."

"I can stand."

"I’m sure you can." She moved closer. "But you don’t need to. Not right now."

The gentleness in her voice threatened to undo the careful control I’d maintained. I couldn’t afford that. I couldn’t let real emotion bleed through the performance I was giving. So I stepped back instead of accepting the comfort she offered.

"I need to see him." My voice came out steadier than before. "I need to make sure she didn’t... that there’s nothing else..."

"The healers will handle it." Sarah’s tone firmed. "Your job right now is to not collapse before the council gets here to take your statement."

Statement.

Right. There would be questions. An investigation of sorts, even though pack justice rarely resembled human legal proceedings. I’d need to tell the story again. Make sure every detail aligned. Every piece of evidence supported the narrative I’d constructed.

Hazel attacked Wenzel in his room. I heard the commotion and arrived too late to save him. Rage consumed me. I killed her in retaliation. Simple and tragic. The kind of story that would resonate with pack members who’d heard of Hazel Hughes schemes and what led her to be a permanent guest here.

The sound of running feet echoed from multiple directions.

Pack members emerged from houses, training facilities and the fields. Some were already shifted, approaching as wolves. Others came in their human form, throwing on whatever clothes they could grab. All of them moved with the urgency that came from hearing their Alpha was dead.

The crowd grew.

Faces I recognized and some I didn’t pressed closer. Questions flew that I couldn’t track individually. The noise built into something overwhelming. Too many voices. Too many people. Too much attention focused on me when I needed to concentrate on maintaining the illusion.

My vision blurred.

Not from tears. From exhaustion catching up in ways I couldn’t fake. The adrenaline that had carried me through murdering two people and destroying evidence was wearing thin. My legs actually trembled now. The swaying wasn’t performance anymore.

I felt hands catch me before I registered falling.

Someone lowered me to the ground with more care than I deserved. Voices shouted for space. For quiet. For the healers to hurry. The sky above had brightened to full dawn blue, washing out the last stars.

I closed my eyes.

The last thing I heard before darkness took me was Sarah’s voice cutting through the chaos: "Get the council. Now. We need to secure the scene before anyone contaminates it."

Then nothing.