LYSANDER

"Send her body back to Silvercreek. Tell them she died attempting to assault our Alpha during his rut madness and perhaps even what she did. Tell them we consider the matter closed, but any retaliation will be met with an even overwhelming force." I met each elder’s gaze in turn. "Let their humiliation be punishment enough. They sent a viper into our home and now she will bite them as hard as she bit us."

Silence fell again. Longer this time. I watched them weigh options, calculate risks, measure my words against their own concerns.

"It’s pragmatic," Ellis admitted.

"It protects the pack," Freya added.

Jenson nodded slowly. "We’ll send the body back with a formal statement. No war. But Silvercreek will understand that any aggression will be answered."

"Thank you."

They left after that. The healer returned to fuss over bandages and check my ribs. I let her work in silence, too tired to maintain conversation I didn’t need. When she finally declared me stable enough to rest without supervision, I asked for one thing.

"I need to speak with someone. Her name is Delta."

The healer frowned. "You should be resting."

"I will. After I talk to her."

She sighed but didn’t argue and she left to help me get the girl. Twenty minutes later, Delta appeared in the doorway. She looked smaller than I remembered. Uncertain. Her hands twisted together in front of her like she expected punishment.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair Jenson had used.

She sat. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

"I know what you did," I started. "With the flour."

Her head snapped up. Fear filled her eyes. "I didn’t mean for anyone to die. I just wanted to stop her from—"

"I’m not angry." I cut through her panic. "You were trying to survive. I understand that."

"You do?"

"Delta, I need to know something. Do you want to go back to Silvercreek?"

She went very still. The kind of stillness that came before either flight or complete honesty.

"No," she whispered. "Luna Isobel would destroy me for what happened to Hazel. Even if I didn’t cause it directly, she’d blame me. She’d make an example."

"What if you stayed here?"

Hope flickered across her features before caution smothered it. "Why would you let me stay?"

"Because I do not want to take your life."

The words settled between us, simple and unadorned.

Delta blinked, like she hadn’t heard me properly the first time. "I... what?"

"And also because I believe you deserve better than what you had."

The words came out quieter than the first, but they carried more weight.

Delta stilled again, though this time it wasn’t fear that held her there. It was something else, something more careful, like she didn’t quite trust what she was hearing.

"Better?" she repeated.

"Yes." I watched her closely. "What you described, what you’re afraid of going back to, that is a barbaric way to feel."

Her fingers tightened in her lap.

"That’s how it’s always been," she said. "In Silvercreek, and even in most packs... Even this one...You follow the rules without a thought, and one day, you pay for it when you are unlucky. There’s no space in between."

"I know," I said.

Because I did. I had grown up inside those same rules. I had enforced them. Benefited from them.

"The laws of most packs," I continued, slower now, "they were written to keep structure, to keep packs from tearing themselves apart. But somewhere along the way, they stopped being about balance and started being about power. About who gets to decide who lives comfortably and who spends their life afraid."

Delta’s gaze lifted fully to mine now.

"People like you," I said, "are always the ones who pay the price for that shift. Not because you’re dangerous, but because you’re easy to control. Easy to blame."

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

"You’re not wrong for wanting out of that," I added. "And you’re not wrong for fighting back, even if you chose the wrong way to do it."

She let out a breath, shaky but steadying.

"If I stay," she said carefully, "are the rules here... different?"

"Yes," I said, without hesitation.

"Because the strange laws my father put in place about servants and pack hierarchy die when I take power." I leaned forward despite the protest from my ribs. "I’m offering you a real place here. Not as property. As a pack member with all the rights and protections that come with it."

Tears welled in her eyes. "I don’t know the full story of what happened. But to be frank, I don’t even care. I just want to survive. That was all I ever wanted."

"I know."

"And even if this place could be worse than what should be home, it’s somehow far better." The words tumbled out faster now. "Hazel was going to get me killed eventually. Either through her schemes or just because she could. Here, I might actually have a chance to live without looking over my shoulder constantly."

"You have my word." I extended my hand. "You have a home with Lily of the Valley now. Nobody will touch you. Nobody will use you. You’re under my protection."

She stared at my hand for a long moment before reaching out to take it. Her grip was tentative at first, then firmed as the reality settled in.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Don’t thank me yet. I’ve got a lot of work to do to make this pack into something worth being part of." I released her hand. "But I promise you, it will be better. No more arbitrary rules. No more servants treated like possessions. We start fresh."

She nodded. Fresh tears tracked down her face, but these carried relief instead of fear.

"Get some rest," I told her.

She nodded, as she left quietly. The door clicked shut behind her, and I was alone again with the weight of what I’d done and what came next. Two people were dead by my hand. A pack needed leadership. A girl needed protection. And I had blood on my conscience that no amount of justification would wash clean.

But someone had hope now. In me. That counted for something.

I closed my eyes and let exhaustion drag me under.