Chapter 5

Elara Thorne POV:

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the small room. Magnus and I ate in silence, savoring the taste of the roasted deer. For the first time in his life, he was eating a meal in peace, without his grandparents' insults or his sister's demands.

He watched me across the small table, his expression thoughtful. "Mother," he finally asked, his voice quiet. "Are we going to... live like this now?"

I put down my knife and fork. My gaze drifted to the window, toward the distant mountains that marked the territory of the powerful Stoneclaw Pack.

"No," I said, my voice soft but filled with the unshakeable strength of forged steel. "We are going to find your father, Lycus Stone."

Magnus flinched as if I had struck him. The name was a curse in this house. In his mind, his father was a coward who had abandoned them for a better life.

"Why?" he asked, a bitter edge to his voice. "He didn't want us."

A shadow of the old pain crossed my face before it was burned away by the fire of my resolve. "We are going to take back what belongs to us," I said. "Our dignity, our position, and... justice."

I told him everything. I told him that Lycus was my Fated Mate, the other half of my soul, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. I told him how Lycus had performed the ritual of Rejection, a sacrilege that severed our sacred bond, leaving me for dead with his widowed sister-in-law, Vixia. He had taken her to the Stoneclaw Pack and lied, claiming she was his mate, a lie that had secured him the prestigious rank of Gamma.

Magnus listened, his youthful anger transforming into a deeper, colder fury. The crime was far worse than simple abandonment. It was a betrayal of their Goddess, of their very nature.

I reached into my tunic and pulled out a small, oilskin-wrapped object. I unfolded it to reveal a pendant of polished obsidian, carved with the symbol of the full moon.

"This was given to us by the Moon Priestess at our bonding ceremony," I explained. "It is the proof of our union, witnessed by the Goddess."

He stared at the pendant, the last embers of his childish resentment burning out, replaced by a man's righteous anger. He was on my side. Completely.

"I'll need a travel writ to leave our pack's territory," I told him. "Tomorrow, you'll come with me to see Deacon Silas."

The next morning, armed with the rest of the rare herbs, we found Silas. I spun a tale about a dying sister in a distant territory, explaining that I needed to take my eldest son with me for protection.

Given the good impression I had made and the value of the herbs, Silas didn't question it. He stamped the travel writ without hesitation, even warning us to be wary of rogues on the road.

With the document in hand, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders.

On the way back, I led Magnus deep into the woods, to a hidden cave. Inside was a small cache of dried food, a water skin, and a few sturdy tools. It was my old escape kit, something I had secretly prepared in past during my darkest moments of despair.

"Hunt," I told Magnus. "Small game. We'll need to make jerky for the road."

He shifted into his wolf form, a magnificent gray creature, and disappeared into the trees with the fluid grace of a natural hunter. I watched him go, a swell of pride in my chest. He was my ally, my weapon.

We spent the rest of the day preparing.

By dusk, we returned to the cabin. I looked at the bolted woodshed and at Freya, who was huddled in a corner, her tears finally spent. I felt nothing.

I left enough food and water at the cabin door to last them a few days. It was more mercy than they deserved.

I turned to Magnus. "Eat. Sleep. We leave at dawn."

He nodded, his eyes burning with the same fire that consumed me. Our long journey for vengeance was about to begin.