The hidden den beneath the fallen oak felt smaller now, its roots pressing closer as Elizabeth prepared to leave. The fire had dwindled to embers, casting a faint glow over her silver cloak and the knife at her side. Her training with Torin had awakened a strength within her, a wild energy that coursed through her veins, but the mate bond still tugged at her heart, a reminder of Herod's rejection—I reject Elizabeth as my luna and mate. The words lingered, sharp as thorns, yet her resolve burned brighter, fueled by the whispers of Rath's conspiracy.
Calen stood at the entrance, his dark eyes wary. "Veyra's message came," he said, his voice low. "Her contacts saw Rath at the northern border, meeting with outsiders. They're moving weapons, Elizabeth. It's happening now."
Torin joined them, his weathered face set with determination. "We can't wait," he said. "If Rath's sealing a deal, we need proof—something to take back to the pack, to Herod. You're ready for this, Elizabeth."
Her chest tightened at Herod's name, his amber eyes flashing in her mind—once filled with love, now clouded with betrayal. She nodded, gripping the knife. "I am," she said, her voice steady. "But it's dangerous. If we're caught—"
"We won't be," Torin interrupted, his gaze firm. "I'll go with you. Calen, stay here, keep the den secure. If we don't return, tell Veyra to scatter her contacts."
Calen hesitated, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Be careful, Elizabeth. I owe you my life—don't let it end like this."
She offered a faint smile, her wolf stirring with readiness. "I won't. Let's move, Torin."
They shifted, their wolf forms blending into the forest's shadows—Elizabeth's silver fur a streak of moonlight, Torin's dark form a silent guide. The northern border was a day's run, its terrain rugged with rocky outcrops and dense thickets. The air grew colder as they neared, carrying the faint scent of steel and strangers. Elizabeth's senses sharpened, her training guiding her steps, but her heart ached with every pulse of the mate bond.
They paused at a ridge overlooking the border, hidden by a cluster of pines. Below, a clearing buzzed with activity—figures cloaked in dark furs unloaded crates from a wagon, their movements swift and secretive. Elizabeth's eyes locked on Rath, his tall frame unmistakable, his voice carrying over the wind as he spoke to a burly outsider. Her stomach churned with anger and fear.
"Those are weapons," Torin whispered, his wolf voice a growl in her mind. "Rath's arming someone—maybe a rival pack. We need to get closer, hear what they're saying."
Elizabeth nodded, her wolf instincts guiding her down the ridge, Torin at her side. They crept through the underbrush, their breaths silent, until they were near enough to catch Rath's words. "The alpha's weak without her," he said, his tone smug. "Her rejection split the pack—half follow him, half doubt. With these arms, we'll take control when the time's right."
The outsider laughed, a harsh sound. "And the luna? She's still a threat?"
Rath's smile was cold. "Not for long. Herod's warriors will find her soon. Dead or alive, she's no use to him now."
Elizabeth's heart pounded, the mate bond flaring with pain. Herod's hunt was part of Rath's plan, a tool to cement his betrayal. She fought the urge to lunge, her claws digging into the earth. Torin's presence steadied her, his eyes meeting hers with a silent command to wait.
A rustle behind them made her tense, and she turned to see a warrior patrolling the edge of the clearing. His scent was pack—Herod's pack—and recognition struck her. It was Gavric, a young wolf she'd trained with, his loyalty once unwavering. His eyes widened as he spotted her, and before she could react, he shifted, his voice a shocked whisper. "Elizabeth? You're alive?"
Torin growled, stepping between them, but Elizabeth raised a paw. "Gavric," she said, shifting to human form, her voice low. "Don't raise the alarm. I'm not your enemy."
Gavric's gaze darted to Rath, then back to her. "You're wanted, Elizabeth. Herod ordered your death. But…" He hesitated, his expression torn. "I saw the setup. The stranger in your chambers—I heard rumors it was staged. I didn't believe you'd betray us."
Hope flickered in her chest. "It was Rath," she whispered. "He framed me to weaken Herod, to take the pack. Help us, Gavric. We need proof."
Gavric's jaw tightened, his loyalty warring with doubt. "If I help, I'm a traitor too. But if you're right…" He glanced at the clearing, then nodded. "There's a crate with documents—Rath's deals. I'll get it, but we have to move fast."
He shifted, slipping toward the wagon, while Elizabeth and Torin watched, hearts pounding. Rath's voice rose, directing the outsiders, unaware of the danger creeping closer. Gavric returned, a leather pouch clutched in his jaws, and shifted back, handing it to Elizabeth. "Take it," he said. "Get out. I'll cover your escape."
Elizabeth opened the pouch, her fingers trembling as she scanned the papers—names of rival packs, weapon counts, Rath's signature sealing the deals. Proof. Her eyes met Gavric's, gratitude swelling within her. "Thank you," she whispered. "Tell Herod the truth when you can."
He nodded, shifting to rejoin the patrol, while Elizabeth and Torin retreated, the pouch secure. They ran, the forest swallowing them, the mate bond a chaotic storm in her chest. Herod's face filled her mind—his pride, his love, his hunt—and tears stung her eyes. He'd been deceived, his judgment clouded by Rath's scheme. The proof could save him, save the pack, but it meant facing him again.
They reached the den, Calen's relief palpable as they entered. "You're back," he said, his voice tight. "What happened?"
Elizabeth shifted, clutching the pouch. "We have proof," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Rath's deals, his plan to overthrow Herod. Gavric helped us—someone from the pack believes me."
Torin's eyes softened, pride in his gaze. "You did it, Elizabeth. This could turn the tide. But Herod—he'll be furious when he learns the truth."
Her heart ached, the mate bond pulling her toward Herod even as she feared his reaction. "I have to face him," she said, her resolve firm. "With this, he'll see I'm innocent. But I need to be strong—stronger than he expects."
Torin placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch a steady anchor. "You are, Elizabeth. Your training, your courage—it's more than he ever gave you credit for. We'll go together, when you're ready."
She nodded, the papers in her hands a lifeline to her past and future. The mate bond hummed, a mix of love and pain, but her strength had grown beyond it. She saw Herod in her mind—his strength, his pride—and felt a quiet certainty. She would return, not as his rejected luna, but as a wolf who'd risen from exile, ready to reclaim her truth and save the pack from Rath's shadow.