Chapter 2: Embezzler's Reckoning
by A. Santiago · 1,744 words
Helena kept her back to the wall in the corner of the community hall's small kitchenette. The coffee in the mug before her had gone cold. She had not touched it. The habit of refusing to eat or drink where others could watch still sat heavy in her bones.
The mid-ranking wolf she had chosen as her first target hunched over a stack of papers at the long table. Marcus Hale. His voice had joined the others that night three years ago, calling for her exile. She remembered the way he had sneered the word weak. His fingers shook now as he flipped through the pages.
She waited until the last of the afternoon stragglers left the hall. Then she rose and crossed the worn floorboards. Her boots made almost no sound. The power under her skin stayed quiet. Good. She counted one, two, three in careful Greek under her breath.
"Marcus." Her voice stayed low. Measured. "Still hiding numbers that do not belong to you?"
He jerked upright. Papers scattered. His eyes widened at the sight of her. Recognition hit him hard enough to make his shoulders curl inward.
"Helena. You're back." He swallowed. "Heard you caused trouble at the gathering yesterday. Alpha's probably looking for you."
She offered a smile that showed no teeth. The scar along her collarbone prickled. She pressed two fingers against it without thinking. "Alpha has problems closer to home. Like the missing funds from the eastern border supplies. The ones that ended up in your cousin's account."
Marcus's face lost all color. His hands gripped the edge of the table until the wood creaked. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I saw the ledgers myself." She kept her tone even. Almost conversational. "You should have hidden them better."
A few wolves still lingered near the doorway. They had gone still. Helena let them listen. Let the news travel on its own.
"The pack will know by supper," she continued. "Unless you prefer to explain it to Desmond. I wonder how he will feel about one of his own weakening the border defenses."
Marcus looked ready to be sick. His gaze flicked toward the back exit as if measuring his chances. "Why are you doing this? It wasn't personal."
Her laugh came out short. "Everything was personal." She touched the scar again. The skin felt warm under her fingertips. "Every shove. Every vote to send me away with nothing."
His mouth worked but no sound emerged.
She stepped back. "Make it right. All of it. Or I will make certain everyone learns exactly who you are." Turning, she added over her shoulder, "And Marcus? Next time you call someone weak, ensure they stay that way."
The heavy door thudded shut behind her. Outside, the mountain air felt sharper. She walked into the trees without looking back. Her pulse still beat too hard against the scar.
Desmond moved along the tree line behind the community hall. Pine needles snapped under his boots. The mate bond tugged at him like an invisible cord, drawing him after her scent. He rubbed the spot over his heart. The ache had sharpened since yesterday's gathering.
Elias had warned him to stay away. Something about giving her space and keeping patrols steady. Desmond had ignored the advice. The beta's nervous laugh still rang in his ears.
He caught her scent before he saw her. Soap, pine, and that faint edge of power that made his wolf stir. Helena emerged from the path carrying nothing. No paper bag this time. Just the straight line of her braid over one shoulder.
"Stay away from Marcus," he said. The words came out rougher than he meant.
She stopped a few yards away. Those blue eyes met his without flinching. "Listening to private conversations now, Alpha? That seems beneath you."
He took one step closer before he caught himself. Heat flared between them. His hands clenched at his sides. "You are stirring trouble that could get wolves killed. The eastern border is already thin. If word spreads that we cannot trust our own..."
"Then choose better wolves to handle the books." She tilted her head. The braid slid against her jacket. "Or fewer traitors."
His jaw tightened. The need to close the distance fought with the urge to retreat. He remembered how her wrist had felt under his fingers yesterday. Fever-warm. Racing pulse.
"This is not how we settle pack matters," he said. "You do not get to decide who stands and who falls."
Her expression stayed even but her fingers brushed the scar again. The air between them felt thicker. He could hear her breathing change, just slightly.
She moved one step nearer. Then another. Close enough that he saw the faint light beginning at the edges of her eyes. His own heartbeat thudded against his ribs. The bond urged him forward, demanding contact. Demanding he fix what he had broken.
His hand lifted. Hers rose too. Their fingers hovered inches apart. Warmth rolled from her skin. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath.
A branch cracked somewhere behind him. The moment broke.
Helena dropped her hand. Color touched her cheeks. "Do not." The word carried that formal edge he remembered from the night before. "Do not pretend you have any claim here."
"I never said I did." The lie tasted bitter. He could still feel the ghost of her skin against his palm.
She turned away. "Marcus took from his own pack. He helped send me away. This is kinder than what I could have done."
Desmond watched her disappear between the trees. His chest felt tight. The part of him that still belonged to her wanted to follow. The rest knew he had earned every sharp word.
Serena found her an hour later near the edge of the parking area. Black hair swung loose around her shoulders. The silver pendant at her throat caught the light with every step.
"Poor little Helena." Her voice sounded sweet enough to coat poison. "Still cannot sit through a simple meeting without hiding in the corner. Some of us never had to crawl back from exile."
Helena regarded her with steady eyes. The power inside her shifted but she held it still. "Serena. Still measuring yourself by how closely you can stand next to a man who never truly chose you?"
The other woman's hazel eyes narrowed. Her fingers rose to the pendant. "Desmond chose me. Publicly. After he discarded you like yesterday's scraps."
"Did he?" Helena's tone stayed mild. Precise. "Or did you simply occupy the space I left? Tell me, does the bond pull at him when you are near? Or does he look straight through you?"
Serena's mouth twisted. Her confidence slipped for a breath. The fingers on the pendant tightened until the chain pressed into her skin.
"That little display at the gathering does not frighten me," she hissed. "You are still the same weak girl who could not finish the ceremony."
Helena stepped closer. Close enough to see the tension around Serena's eyes. "The moon goddess makes mistakes. I am here to correct a few of them. Beginning with you."
Serena actually retreated a step. The sight sent a dark spark through Helena. But the feeling carried an aftertaste she did not like.
"Stay away from what is mine," Serena warned. The honey had burned away from her voice.
Helena offered a small, sharp smile. "Nothing here truly belongs to you."
She walked on without waiting for more. Serena's frustrated growl chased her down the path.
The woods felt different this time. Helena slowed as she moved past the community hall toward the thicker trees. The scar on her collarbone began to burn. She recognized the faint metallic bite in the air.
A thin wire stretched across the narrow trail. Silver-laced. Fresh. She crouched to study it. Her power rose unbidden, making her skin prickle.
A hand closed around her upper arm and pulled her back. Firm. Not rough.
Desmond's voice rumbled low against her ear. "Do not touch it."
She stumbled into his chest. His heartbeat slammed against her shoulder blade. The bond surged between them at the contact. Heat flooded her skin. His breath stirred the hair at her temple.
For one dangerous second she let herself feel the solid warmth of him. The way her body still knew his. Their pulses seemed to sync, frantic and loud.
Then she twisted free. "Let go."
He released her but stayed close. His light blue eyes scanned the wire. "This was meant for you. Silver. Someone does not want you digging into missing supplies."
Her throat felt tight. The near miss left her angry at the trap, at herself, at the way his nearness still affected her. "I would have sensed it."
"Maybe." His voice softened. "But maybe not before it cut you."
Their eyes met. The space between them felt alive. His hand remained near her arm. She could feel the heat of his palm even through her sleeve. The bond pulled at her like a tide.
Desmond's gaze dropped to her mouth. His free hand rose halfway as if he might brush her cheek. Then he stepped back.
The loss of contact left her colder than the mountain air should allow.
"Who knew you would come this way?" he asked. The alpha tone had returned.
She touched her scar. The habit gave her away. "Only you. Unless you shared it."
His expression darkened. "I did not."
She believed him. The truth only tangled everything further. The sharp satisfaction from confronting Marcus had already begun to sour. Now it mixed with something warmer and far more dangerous.
Her power flared without warning. Her skin glowed faintly. Desmond's eyes widened.
Ancient words rose to her lips. "Mnēmoneue tēn nycta."
He staggered. The vision struck him like a blow. She watched his face go pale as he lived through her memory of the bonding night. The humiliation. The pain. The moment his rejection had torn through her.
Helena turned away from the sight of him on his knees. Her own legs felt unsteady as she moved deeper into the trees. His scent clung to her clothes. An accusation. A temptation. A question she was not ready to face.
Behind her Desmond remained on the ground. She could still feel the pull between them. The first real strike had landed. But she could not tell anymore whose blood stained the ground.