I ran to the Alpha's office.
I didn't walk. I didn't maintain the careful, measured pace I'd perfected over seven years. I ran.
My breath came in ragged gasps. My legs burned. I didn't care.
My mother was dying. And somewhere in this pack house, Archer had the power to save her.
I burst through the office door without knocking.
The Alpha's chair was empty.
Peyton sat in the Luna's chair—my chair—her hands folded neatly on the armrest. She looked up at me with that same soft, sympathetic expression.
"Ariana," she said gently. "You look upset."
I couldn't breathe. I scanned the room. No Archer. No Beta Dorian. Just Peyton, seated like she belonged there.
"Where is he?" My voice cracked. "Where's Archer?"
"He's handling pack business." Peyton gestured vaguely toward the window. "He asked not to be disturbed."
I moved to the window and looked up. The pack house had an upper floor with a private study. Through the glass, I saw a silhouette. Tall. Broad shoulders. Unmistakably Archer.
He was standing there. Right there.
I turned back to Peyton. "My mother is dying. The Crescent Moon healers need herbs from our stores. I need access. Now."
Peyton tilted her head. That small, precise movement I'd seen a hundred times. Concerned. Understanding.
"I know this is difficult," she said softly. "But the Alpha's orders were clear. No unauthorized access to pack resources."
"Then authorize it." I stepped closer. My hands were shaking. "Please. You're sitting in that chair. You have the authority. Just unlock the stores. I'll take what I need and go."
She stood slowly. Her pale blue eyes held mine.
"The Alpha's orders," she repeated, "were very clear. Especially regarding you."
I looked back at the window. The silhouette hadn't moved.
"Archer!" I shouted. My voice echoed off the stone walls. "Archer, please! I'm begging you!"
Nothing.
The silhouette remained perfectly still.
Peyton walked to the door and opened it. Two Gamma warriors stood in the corridor. I recognized them—Thorne and another wolf named Kade. Both had served under me when I was Luna.
Peyton made a small gesture. Precise. Deliberate.
The warriors stepped inside.
"No," I whispered. "No, please—"
Thorne grabbed my left arm. Kade took my right. Their grips were firm. Not brutal. Just inescapable.
"Escort her to the border," Peyton said quietly. "Make sure she understands she's not to return without proper authorization."
They dragged me from the office.
I fought. I twisted. I dug my heels into the floor.
It didn't matter.
They pulled me through the corridor. Down the stairs. Out into the main courtyard.
The training grounds were full. At least thirty wolves. They stopped mid-drill and stared.
I saw their faces. Some looked away quickly. Others watched with blank expressions.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The warriors dragged me across the grounds. My feet scraped against the dirt. My shoulders screamed from the angle of their grip.
I looked back at the pack house. The upper window. The silhouette.
Archer stood there. Watching.
He didn't move.
He didn't call out.
He just watched as his Gamma warriors dragged his mate—his fated mate—across pack grounds like a rogue.
Something inside me cracked.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
It was quiet. Final.
Like the last ember of a fire going dark.
Seraphine released a sound I'd never heard before. A howl. Silent. Agonized. It shook my bones. It rattled my ribs. But no one else heard it.
Because my wolf had no voice left.
The warriors reached the border and released me. I stumbled forward and fell to my knees in the dirt.
Thorne looked down at me. His face was carefully blank.
"Don't come back without authorization," he said.
Then they turned and walked away.
I knelt at the border, staring at the ground. My hands were numb. My chest felt hollow.
Somewhere behind me, I heard a soft sound. I turned my head.
Cassia Wren stood at the edge of the training grounds. Small. Thin. Her hands twisted together.
She met my eyes.
She didn't look away.
Everyone else had averted their gaze. But Cassia held mine. Steady. Deliberate.
A witness.
Then she turned and disappeared into the pack house.
I pressed my palm to my chest. Searching for Seraphine. For any flicker of warmth. Any sign of life.
Nothing.
Just an empty space where my wolf used to be.
I don't know how long I knelt there. Minutes. Hours.
Then I felt it.
A flicker. Faint. Distant.
Not from inside me. From somewhere else.
An old connection. A thread I'd forgotten existed.
The Academy mind-link.
I'd formed it years ago with a few wolves during training. Most had faded over time. But one—one had never fully closed.
Zayden.
The flicker pulsed again. Stronger this time.
Distress. Raw. Unmistakable.
My distress. Bleeding across the link.
I tried to close it. To pull back. But I was too weak. Too empty.
The connection held.
And somewhere in Silvercrest territory, I knew—I knew—Zayden felt it.
I collapsed forward, my hands pressing into the dirt.
The sun was setting. The border stretched out before me. Behind me, Ironveil's lights began to glow.
I closed my eyes.
Seraphine was silent.
Completely, utterly silent.
And my mother was dying.
