228 The Quiet Before the Storm
Darian
We reached the black sedan I’d driven to the airstrip. Lucian and I climbed in. I fastened my seatbelt, adjusted the rearview mirror, and started the engine. The hum of the car was the only sound for a moment as I pulled out onto the road.
Then I glanced over at him.
“Did you find out anything about Alaric?” I asked, keeping my tone steady.
Lucian looked over at me with a spark in his eye I hadn’t seen in weeks.
“Actually, yeah,” he said, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “I’ve got a picture of him. And he’s here. On Mooncrest.”
I glanced at him, feeling the adrenaline kick in.
“I don’t know where exactly,” he added, “but he’s close. And he’s preparing for war.”
A cold rush of focus settled over me. Finally-finally-we had something real. A face. A presence. No matter what disguise he wore, with Lucian’s intel, we’d find him. And when we did, we’d end this.
Of course, Lucian didn’t know the full picture yet. Not tonight.
He didn’t know how badly Chase had already crippled us-military support gone, finances in ruins, packs revolting. I hadn’t even told Mara. I hadn’t told anyone. Not yet.
The truth was, I didn’t want to hand Lucian that weight the moment he got back. Let him have one night of peace. One night with Mara. Let him breathe before I laid everything at his feet.
“So,” I asked, keeping my voice even, “what’s the plan?”
He exhaled, the fire still in his voice. “We prepare for war.”
But I could tell-he didn’t realize how deep the hole had gotten.
“I’ve got Justin’s guy on our radar. Denis is making sure he’s picked up. With his intel, we’ll trace the underground pack and strike it first. Force Chase into the open.”
He leaned his head back against the headrest, eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was talking to himself more than to me.
“I want this over with, Darian. I want to train again. Pick baby names. Play house with Mara. Not take secret missions and dodge bullets like some rogue on the run.”
His jaw clenched.
And I knew right then-when Lucian saw Chase, he wouldn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t forgive. The man had taken too much. Put us all through too much. Some things you don’t recover from.
And Chase Nighthorn was not walking away from this.
We continued the drive to the mansion while Lucian recounted, in sharp detail, everything that had happened in Mistwood. How the hotel staff were in on it. How they’d tried to erase him. All of them-bought and paid for by Chase.
What made it worse was knowing the money they used to do it likely came from us-stolen through Westcorp’s shell accounts or siphoned off by hackers during the financial breaches.
When Lucian explained the real reason behind the attacks on our arsenals, my stomach turned. Chase wasn’t just testing
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+8 Points
us-he was probing. Assessing whether we were prepared for war. And we weren’t. Years of peace had made us complacent. Our storerooms were shells. Our weapons nearly gone.
Lucian swore he would never allow that kind of oversight again. He wouldn’t repeat our father’s mistakes. If we survived this, we’d be ready for anything that came after.
Finally, he asked the question I knew had been on his mind since he stepped off the plane.
“How did Mara handle my absence?”
I kept my eyes on the road, choosing my words carefully.
“The first week, she managed. Stayed busy with pack duties. She went to headquarters often, visited the hospital when she could. She was focused-functional.”
I paused.
“But by the second week, the fear started to show. She got quiet. Restless. She kept asking Rowan if he’d heard from you. She tried to hide how scared she was, but I could see it plain as day.”
He didn’t speak. I kept going.
“The third week was the worst. She barely looked after herself. Wore your clothes everywhere. Didn’t bother with her
appearance. Spent hours sitting in your office, just… waiting. Hoping for word from you. She was unraveling, Lucian. And
so was I.”
He inhaled sharply but said nothing.
“Father noticed. Her bump was showing more. He worried the stress would trigger something… worse. So he asked me to
take over temporarily. Give her room to breathe. She still worked hard. Handled welfare and security like a true Luna.
Honestly, she was incredible. I think we should start training future Lunas-Mara set a new standard.”
Lucian stayed quiet for a moment, then exhaled. I could feel the weight of his guilt without needing to look at him.
“I had a feeling she might try to come after me,” he finally said. “She asked about the flight schedule to Mistwood. I
posted men at the airport this morning-just in case.”
“You were right to do that,” I replied. “She’s as stubborn as she is loyal.”
Lucian nodded. “I’m glad I made it back. And I’m grateful for what she did. And for you.”
“You brought back more than just yourself, Lucian. Your intel-your survival-it gives us a fighting chance.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough,” he said.
By the time we pulled up to the mansion, the sky was ink-black. The estate was quiet, cloaked in the kind of silence that
usually only comes after a storm.
Lucian and I entered through the side doors. I still lived in the left wing with Tiffany and Emma, while Lucian’s room was
on the opposite end of the hall.
“It’s late,” I said. “She’s probably asleep. Do her a favor and fix that crooked nose before she wakes up.”
Lucian chuckled. “Good call.”
We split at the main hall, and I made my way to my room. I had barely touched the door handle when I heard it-Mara’s scream. I couldn’t help it-I burst out laughing.
She’d seen him. Broken nose, disguise and all.
Inside my room, Emma stirred, then started crying. I walked to her crib and picked her up, holding her close as she calmed
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against my chest.
Tiffany groaned softly beside me, still half-asleep.
+8 Points 3
And in that moment-standing in the dim light, holding my daughter, watching the woman I once failed-I felt something I hadn’t let myself feel in weeks.
Gratitude.
Somehow, despite my flaws, the goddess had given me this. A second chance. A real life. A family.
And I wasn’t going to waste it.
