Chapter 283

Chapter 283

Chapter 283

KAEL

That was fair. That was so fair that it made something in my chest ache with the specific pain of knowing she was, as she had always been, genuinely better at this than me. At handling complexity without either running from it or burning it down.

“I need to ask you something,” I said. “Before I let

you rest p>

She read my tone and her expression became careful. “Ask p>

“Aria visited Damon. After the bonding. You sent those wolves to us when we were ambushed— that bought us the time we needed to survive. Were you watching? Did you know he was going to move against us that day p>

Ivory was quiet for long enough that I couldn’t read whether she was considering the question or deciding how much to say. “I had people watching him after his escape,” she said finally. “Not because I suspected Aria. Because he was loose and he had reasons to come after Shadowmere and after you specifically. When the intelligence suggested he was moving toward your position, I activated what I had available.” She looked at me steadily. “I don’t know what Aria told him during her visit. I don’t know if she knew what he was planning. Those are questions you need to ask her, not me p>

“She was starting to go with him,” I said. “When he appeared during the ambush and held his hand out. She was moving toward him p>

Ivory didn’t flinch from that. “I know what I saw from the intelligence reports,” she said carefully. “And I know what stopped her.” A pause that felt weighted. “You should consider what it means that she stopped. Whatever she was feeling in that moment, whatever pull was there -she stopped. She stayed p>

I didn’t have an answer to that.

“Go be with your mate,” Ivory said, closing her eyes. “I have three years of memories to sort through and I need to be alone to do it. We’ll talk properly when I’m not fresh out of a trauma response and you’re not carrying an entire Hunt’s worth of unprocessed feelings p>

I stood. Looked at her lying there with her eyes closed, already somewhere inside herself, already doing the hard work of reassembling a self that had been returned to her all at once in the worst possible circumstances.

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I’d loved her. That was the truth I couldn’t keep arguing myself out of and had stopped trying to. Had loved her during three years when loving her had been the most natural and obvious thing in a world that had very few natural and obvious things. Had chosen Aria not because that love was smaller but because the curse needed to be broken and she was my saviour.

None of that untangled the mess we were all standing in. None of it made Aria’s betrayal smaller or Ivory’s grief more bearable or my own confusion more navigable.

2

The pack grounds were quieter now. The excitement of the Hunt had subsided into the particular kind of stillness that followed large events, that combination of exhaustion and processing that came before people figured out what they thought about what they’d witnessed.

I found Aria sitting on the boundary wall at the edge of the grounds. Not running. Not hiding. Just sitting there with her hands in her lap, looking out at the forest beyond pack territory, wearing the expression of someone who’d decided to stay and hadn’t yet figured out what staying cost.

The guard Bridget had stationed was standing at a respectful distance, close enough to be present, far enough to give the illusion of privacy.

I sat beside her. Said nothing for a moment p>

“I didn’t tell him about the convoy,” she said, without looking at me. “I want you to know that. I don’t know how he escaped and I don’t know how he knew about the route. But I didn’t give him that.” A breath. “I went there to hear him explain why he chose Sera. That’s all it was. That’s all it ever was p>

“I know you believe that,” I said carefully.

She looked at me then. “You don’t p>

“I don’t know,” I said. “And I need to not know for a while, before I can figure out what I think. The ambush-there are questions I have to have answered before I can close that chapter p>

“Then ask them,” she said. Her voice was steady, which surprised me given everything. “Investigate. Ask me whatever you need to ask. I’ll answer honestly because I’m done with the alternative.” She turned back toward the forest. “I should have told you the moment it happened. I knew I should have. I told myself I’d find the right time and I kept not finding it and eventually the secret got so big that telling you felt impossible, which only made everything worse p>

“Yes,” I said. Because that was accurate and I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” she said. “I understand if you can’t. I just—I want

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you to know that whatever you decide to do with this, with me, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running. I’ll stay and face whatever comes because that’s what I owe you and what I owe this pack p>

We sat there side by side in the carly evening, the light going soft and gold over the forest, and I thought about Ivory in the healing tent sorting through three years of returned memories.

I wasn’t ready to trust her again yet. That was the honest truth. The work of rebuilding that would take time and evidence and probably a lot of conversations I wasn’t capable of having yet.

But I wasn’t ready to give up either. That was also honest, also true, sitting right alongside the anger and the doubt. 3

“We’ll figure it out,” I said finally.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t absolution. It wasn’t even quite a promise.

But it was what I had, and for now, it would have to be enough.

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