Chapter 5 BENEATH THE SILENCE

CRESCENT MOON HADN'T CHANGED

The pack house still towered like a monument, a fortress carved from silver touched stone and howling history. The village still sang with laughter, its cobbled paths echoing with the bare feet of pups chasing dreams. Market stalls overflowed with pelts and herbs. Music drifted in the wind like memory. But Gina felt it. The rot beneath the gold. The sickness hidden in silence. Too many turned their heads when she passed. Too many smiled too quickly. Too tightly. Wolves she didn't recognize wore the Crescent Moon crest, newcomers who had not earned their place, who looked at her with curiosity rather than respect. Their scent was different. Their posture too stiff. Not pack. Not truly. She walked with her hood down, hair braided like the warriors of the ancient bloodlines. Her shoulders were squared. Her lips unreadable. The fire in her chest was caged for now folded neatly beneath her ribs where her wolf growled low and steady. Wait. Watch. Strike.

AN OLD ALLY

The northern ridge lay quiet under the dusk sky, crimson streaks bleeding into violet. It had once been her favorite place as a pup wildflowers swaying in the wind, overlooking the entire valley. She didn't come for the view this time. She came for Elder Orren. He was older. Leaner. The once proud braid in his beard was now a tangled wisp of silver. But his eyes still burned like coals buried in ash. "You came back," he said, his voice a gravelled rasp. Not a greeting. Almost... a warning. "I was invited," Gina replied coolly, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Apparently, the pack throws lavish parties for traitors." He didn't laugh. Orren shifted uncomfortably, clutching the staff carved with his family sigil. "We didn't know what they were planning," he said. "No?" She turned to him, steps slow, deliberate. "Then tell me, Elder... what did you think would happen when you let him mark another? When you helped bury the truth about me?" Orren's mouth tightened. His gaze dropped to the ground. "It wasn't my decision to make," he muttered. "No. But silence was." The words struck like a blade. She stepped closer, just enough for him to feel the heat behind her voice. "You, who held my hand at the Choosing Ceremony. You who called me 'daughter of the moon.' You watched them crown a counterfeit while I disappeared. You watched a sacred bond be desecrated." His hands trembled. Gina's voice softened not with pity, but with cold finality. "You chose comfort over truth. I will not forget that." She left him in the wind with his shame.

THE SECRET CORRIDOR

The Alpha's lower chambers had changed since she'd last walked them. Once used for war councils and sacred decisions, now they pulsed with secrecy. Lockspells shimmered on the door frames. Heavy wards hung in the air, thick with Jessica's scent. Lavender, clove, and something too sweet to be natural. Gina entered anyway. A stolen cloak. Silent steps. And a memory sharp enough to recall the two floorboards that creaked if you stepped too far left. She bypassed the enchantments. The guards never saw her. Inside, candlelight flickered across ancient scrolls and sealed documents. A library of power and corruption. Gina sifted through the shelves until something pulsed beneath her fingers. A sealed record in Luna forged wax. The crest bore the mark of the High Council and a blood colored ribbon. She cracked the seal. Inside, written in fine ink and cruelty, was a decree: "In agreement of the Crescent Moon Council, the rightful Luna shall be Jessica Ravenclaw. All former claims are rendered void. Any challenges shall be viewed as treason against the Alpha Bloodline." Signed. Stamped. Endorsed by four of the six Elders. Including Elder Mirel - who once pressed rosemary into Gina's hands and whispered, "The Moon never makes mistakes." Liars, Gina thought. Every one of them. But it wasn't just betrayal. It was treason. She rolled the scroll tightly, tucked it into her belt, and vanished back into the shadows.

RETURN TO THE BALLROOM

The hall glittered with laughter when she returned. Wine poured. Wolves danced. Jessica leaned against Rex, flashing her two white teeth at visiting nobles. But something had shifted. The air changed. And Gina knew Rex felt her. She didn't look at him. Not yet. She walked instead to the Elders' table, each step an earthquake cloaked in elegance. They saw her coming. They froze forks suspended, mouths half open. Elder Mirel's goblet clattered to the table. Gina placed the declaration before them like an executioner laying down a blade. "Interesting reading," she said, voice soft, sharp. "Do let me know if your memories need refreshing." And then she smiled. Only her lips moved. No warmth reached her eyes. "It's a beautiful night for a reckoning, isn't it?" The Elders squirmed in silence. Good. Let it fester. Let it grow. Flash of the Past Sleep came as a mercy that night. But dreams brought no rest. Her mind wandered to her childhood garden, herbs drying on sun warmed stones, her mother's hands weaving feverfew and moonwort into garlands. The scent of lavender. The hum of magic. Her mother's voice came faintly, barely a whisper beneath the rustling leaves. "The Moon does not choose for comfort, my heart. It chooses for purpose. And purpose is never easy." She woke with her mother's pendant clenched in her hand. The warmth of it burned like truth. This wasn't about a crown. It was never about a title. She had returned not to reclaim what was stolen... ...but to redefine it.