Chapter 115

Alyson

I walk back into my home stunned and dripping wet from the rain. Fritz offered to run me back, or run with me, but I declined. I needed the time to myself to think. The rain has me shivering, drenched and exhausted, but it's the least of my worries. Ryan has been trying to connect through the link with me but I didn't have the heart to answer his requests.

One of the warriors in the foyers strips off his coat and lays it over my shoulders. I give him a friendly nod, wondering if his family in the outskirts of the pack will get sick, if they will all perish, and it will be my fault.

Ryan rushes to my side, grabbing me in a tight, breathless embrace.

I bury my face into his shoulder and sob gently.

"What did he do? What did he say to you?" Ryan gusts.

I open my mouth, needing to release this burden, but I can't.

I spot Olivera a few paces away, his arms crossed to his chest and his hands curled into tight fists. He tips his head up at the meeting of our gazes, and I swallow hard at the pressure I feel to tell Ryan and Olivera what is truly going on.

What I've done to doom the world.

"We should go sit down and talk, Ryan," I breathe. Looking over his shoulder, I motion for Olivera to follow. "You need to come as well."

The thing that hurt the most was hearing about Beth James. She was the mate of a great wolf, a fearless man who was a staple in his pack. When his mate was taken, kidnapped in his mind, it was only then that he turned into such an evil, wounded soul. She was sick; Fritz showed me the papers on her specifically. She never stood a chance as weak, pregnant omega.

I have so much information and I dread having to say a fraction of it, but I can't keep it to myself. It won't end well. Despite my fears, I sit down at the table in a small, corner conference room, curling my legs into the chair while Ryan tries to wipe my tears away.

"What is going on, darling, talk to me?" My mate coos, "You will be okay. What did he say? Is he going to release the rogues?"

I look to Olivera, tears in my eyes welling, and shake my head in rebuttal.

Olivera tenses all over. "Well, then we will release them," he says, stiff and he charges the door, ready to fling it open and start a raging war.

"Wait, please," I beg, my heart breaking. I grip onto Ryan's hand so tight that he gives me a pondering look. "We can't go to war with the elders, Olivera."

The rogue Alpha furrows his broad brow. "What are you saying, sweetheart?"

"The rogues they took, it wasn't just because they wanted to eradicate the rogue race or anything, it was because they were sick. There's an illness affecting the weaker wolves in the world and they took them so it wouldn't spread and—"

Olivera snaps, grabbing a chair from the table and slamming it against the wall just past my shoulder. I flinch, holding onto Ryan tight so he doesn't fly off the handle and start another blood battle. I look down, only hearing the heavy pants of breathe Olivera has, growling loud with his glare burning through my body.

"That elder is a filthy fucking liar," Olivera snarls.

I shake my head, thinking of the files Fritz had shown me before I left his dwelling. "It isn't, Olivera, I saw the papers. I saw the medical reports and I know for a fact that he was telling the truth, Olivera. They just didn't want us to know so no one would panic."

"If you're sure," Ryan breathes gently, calm and soothing, "then I support whatever you think we should do now, darling."

"Oh, come on," Olivera says tauntingly. "You are so dense, sweetheart, it's laughable. You listen to that lying, son-of-a-bitch? He is just trying to cover the atrocities of the elders and I can't honestly believe that you would fall for any of it. You're just a spoiled Luna in her pretty palace, content with the death of her subordinates."

I stand abruptly, charging to the door where Olivera meanders toward. I won't let him get away calling me such atrocities, knowing damn well I would help any wolf in need just as I had wished someone would have helped me in the barracks when I was prisoner of my mate. He has no right to call me anything, not when I'm trying to do what is best.

The rogue Alpha stands before me, inches away, staring down at me. I wave Ryan back, knowing he wants to rip him apart but I don't need violence to solve this mess. I can talk and mediate this issue away. I know I can.

"I am trying to fix things," I say, collected and calm. "If you just allow Fritz to come here and show you the papers, I'm sure you will understand—"

"Enough," Olivera bites, showing his teeth as he shoves my back against the door. I hold in a gasp, holding up a hand to stop Ryan whom I can see is already ready to charge forward and intervene. I don't want a fight. Olivera laughs at my attempts of peace.

"You are just like those peacemakers," Olivera says through his locked jaw. "So willing to screw over every other wolf out there and lie to their faces. I can't believe you would defect to their side so quickly, but I shouldn't have suspected much from a posh, witless mutt of a Luna, letting wolves die so she can stay home and do nothing but fuck her mate."

His words sting and I want to disagree with him, but I don't. It will only be more trouble.

"You're right," I murmur, holding back tears.

Olivera looks perplexed, craning his brow down at me. I press my back to the door, my heart banging like a gong against my chest, feeling so ill at his claims about me.

"Don't listen to him," Ryan huffs. "He's a bitter old rogue and always will be."

"He is bitter," I admit, looking into the rogue Alpha's cold eyes. "He's bitter because he lost his mate and he thinks he needs revenge to get over it. He thinks it will help ease the pain of losing her; of losing their pup."

I speak before thinking, Olivera's eyes growing twice their typical size.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

I open my mouth to speak, the words stifled by a damning slap that crosses my cheek and sends me to my knees, blood dribbling from my crooked nose and busted lip. My tears and my blood swarm together in my palm and I meet his remorseful eyes, filled with their own sobs that he dares to hold back.

He is losing that battle.