The drive back to the estate was tense but triumphant. We had captured the immediate threat, prevented an attack on the gala, and potentially gained valuable information about the network of hunters operating in the region. Yet the revelation of an inside source—a traitor among the werewolves—cast a shadow over our success.

"Who would betray their own kind to hunters?" I asked as we approached the estate. "What werewolf would ally with people who want to exterminate us?"


"Someone who values power over species loyalty," Caleb replied grimly. "Someone who sees certain werewolves—like those with Gray abilities—as threats to their position."

The implication was clear. "You think it's Marcus," I said, not a question.

"I don't want to believe my own uncle capable of such betrayal," he said carefully. "But he's been acting increasingly erratic since your arrival, since learning of your abilities. And he was one of the strongest opponents of your mother's research."


"We need proof," I said. "Before making such an accusation against a council member."

"Agreed. Which is why the interrogation of these hunters is crucial." He parked in front of the mansion, where Sophia was already waiting, alerted by Lucas's advance call. "With luck, we'll have answers before the gala tomorrow night."


Sophia rushed to meet us as we exited the vehicle. "Are you okay?" she demanded, looking me over with concern. "Lucas said they were specifically targeting you."

"I'm fine," I assured her. "Thanks to everyone's quick action."

"And thanks to Eve's abilities," Caleb added, surprising me with the public acknowledgment. "She strengthened the pack bonds during the confrontation, giving us enhanced coordination and speed. It was... remarkable."

Sophia's eyes widened. "Already? That level of bond manipulation usually takes years to develop."

"Apparently danger is an effective accelerant for Gray abilities," I said dryly, trying to downplay my discomfort with

"We need to inform the council," Lucas said as he joined us, the other SUV pulling up behind him. "Hunters targeting a recognized werewolf, with inside information about the gala—this affects all packs, not just the Blackwoods."

"Agreed," Caleb said. "But first, we question the prisoners. I want to know exactly who they're working with before we take this to the council."

The "secure room" turned out to be a reinforced chamber beneath the mansion, accessible only through a hidden entrance and protected by both conventional and magical safeguards. The hunters were separated into individual cells—comfortable enough but escape-proof, with no materials that could be fashioned into weapons.

"I want to be present for the questioning," I said as Caleb prepared to enter the leader's cell.

He hesitated. "It won't be pleasant," he warned. "These men killed your mother, planned to kill you. Their hatred runs deep."

"All the more reason I should be there," I insisted. "I deserve to hear what they have to say, to understand why my mother died and why I've been targeted."

After a moment's consideration, he nodded. "Stay behind me," he instructed. "Let me lead the questioning. These men are dangerous even restrained."

The cell was small but not cramped, with a bed, toilet, and chair bolted to the floor. The hunter sat in the chair, his hands secured behind him, his expression defiant despite his position.

"You're wasting your time," he said as we entered. "I won't tell you anything."

"You already have," Caleb replied calmly. "Your presence on our territory, your plans for the gala, your specific targeting of Eve—all of this tells us a great deal."

"Then why the interrogation?" the man challenged.

"One missing piece," Caleb said, circling the chair slowly. "Your inside source. The werewolf who betrayed their own kind to help hunters."

Something flickered in the man's eyes—surprise, perhaps, that we knew about the traitor. "No idea what you're talking about," he claimed unconvincingly.

"Let's not waste time with denials," Caleb suggested. "You're in a secure facility beneath a mansion full of werewolves. No one knows you're here. No one is coming to rescue you. Your only hope for survival is cooperation."

"You won't kill me," the man said with surprising confidence. "Werewolves have rules about killing humans. It would bring too much attention, too many questions."

"Rules can be bent," Caleb replied softly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "Especially for those who murder our kind, who target our mates."

The word "mates" hung in the air between us, its implications clear. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks but kept my expression neutral, not wanting to distract from the interrogation.

"You're bluffing," the hunter insisted, though with less certainty.

Caleb leaned down, his eyes shifting to wolf gold, his voice dropping to a growl. "Am I? You killed Eleanor Gray twenty years ago. You planned to kill her daughter tonight. You conspired with a traitor against all werewolf kind. Give me one reason why I should show mercy."

Fear finally broke through the man's defiance. "I was following orders," he said quickly. "The Gray bloodline is dangerous—you must see that. The abilities they possess could upset the balance, expose all of you to the wider world."

"Who gave these orders?" Caleb pressed. "Who is your werewolf contact?"

The man's eyes darted between us, calculating his options. "If I tell you, what guarantee do I have that you'll let me live?"

"None," Caleb said bluntly. "But if you don't tell us, I can guarantee you won't leave this room breathing."

I watched the exchange with a mixture of admiration and unease. This was a side of Caleb I hadn't seen before—the ruthless Alpha protecting his pack, willing to do whatever necessary to eliminate threats. It should have frightened me, this capacity for controlled violence, but instead I found it oddly reassuring. In a world with hunters and traitors, such protective ferocity was necessary.

The hunter must have reached a similar conclusion about Caleb's seriousness. "Blackwood," he said finally. "Marcus Blackwood has been our contact for years. He provided information about Eleanor Gray's movements twenty years ago. And now he's done the same with her daughter."

Though we had suspected as much, hearing the confirmation still hit like a physical blow. Caleb's uncle—his own blood—had betrayed not only the pack but all werewolf kind. Had been complicit in my mother's murder and now in the attempt on my life.

"Why?" I asked, unable to remain silent. "Why would he work with people who want to exterminate werewolves?"

The hunter looked at me directly for the first time. "He doesn't want all werewolves dead—just certain bloodlines. The ones with abilities that could change the power structure. He believes in the old ways—separate packs, clear hierarchies, controlled bloodlines."

"And my mother threatened that," I concluded.

"Her research was proving that pack divisions were artificial, that werewolves could form bonds across traditional boundaries," the man confirmed. "If widely accepted, it would have undermined the authority of Alphas like Marcus who maintain power through isolation and division."

"So he had her killed," I said, the cold reality of it settling in my chest. "And now he's trying to do the same to me."

"You're even more dangerous than she was," the hunter said, something like grudging respect in his tone. "She only documented the possibilities. You can actually create these cross-pack bonds. Marcus has been monitoring your development since you were a child, waiting to see if you'd manifest abilities. When you began showing signs of awakening..."

"He arranged for hunters to eliminate me," I finished. "Using Caleb's interest in me as cover for getting close enough to confirm my abilities."

The hunter nodded. "The plan was to wait until after your first transformation, confirm your abilities, then eliminate you during the confusion of the gala. With both Grays gone, the threat to traditional pack structure would be eliminated."

Caleb had remained ominously silent during this exchange, his body rigid with controlled fury. Now he spoke, his voice deadly calm. "How many others know about this plan? How many hunters are involved?"

"Our cell is small—just the three of us captured tonight. But there are others who know about werewolves, about the Gray bloodline. If we disappear..." He left the threat unspoken but clear.

"Then we'll need to ensure you don't disappear," Caleb said. "You'll be our guests until we determine how to proceed." He turned to me. "We have what we need for now."

Outside the cell, Caleb's control finally slipped, his fist slamming into the stone wall with enough force to crack the masonry. "My own uncle," he growled, rage and betrayal evident in every line of his body. "Working with hunters. Responsible for murder."

I placed my hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "What do we do now?"

He took a deep breath, visibly pulling himself back from the edge of fury. "We take this to the council—immediately. Marcus must be confronted with evidence of his betrayal before he can do more damage."

"Will they believe us?" I asked. "It's our word and that of captured hunters against a respected council member."

"They'll believe this," Lucas said, approaching with a small recording device. "Standard procedure for all interrogations in the secure room. Every word is documented."

Caleb nodded grimly. "Call an emergency council session. Tonight. This can't wait until morning."

As Lucas moved to carry out the instruction, Caleb turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "About your mother. About all of this."

"It's not your fault," I assured him. "You didn't know what Marcus was doing."

"He's my blood," Caleb said, self-recrimination evident in his tone. "I should have seen the signs, should have questioned his opposition to your mother's research years ago."

"You were a child when my mother died," I reminded him. "And Marcus has obviously been careful to hide his true nature." I took his hand, the one he'd injured punching the wall, and gently uncurled his fingers to examine the already-healing knuckles. "We know the truth now. We can stop him before he hurts anyone else."

The simple touch seemed to center him, his breathing steadying as he looked down at our joined hands. "How are you so calm about this?" he asked. "Learning who killed your mother, who's been targeting you?"

"I'm not calm inside," I admitted. "I'm furious and heartbroken and terrified. But falling apart won't help us stop Marcus or protect the pack." I managed a small smile. "Besides, I have twenty years of practice compartmentalizing grief about my mother. What's a little more trauma on top of that?"

The gallows humor earned a reluctant smile in return. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Eve Mitchell."

"Gray," I corrected, making a decision in that moment. "Eve Gray. If I'm going to embrace this heritage, I should honor my mother's name."

Something like pride flickered in his eyes. "Eve Gray it is."

The emergency council session was called for midnight—a symbolically significant time for werewolves, when our powers were traditionally believed to be at their peak. All members were required to attend in person, no proxies or remote participation allowed for matters of such gravity.

As we prepared to present our evidence, I felt the weight of what was to come. This wasn't just about justice for my mother or protection for myself. It was about the future of werewolf society—whether we would continue as isolated packs suspicious of each other, or begin to explore the connections that could make us stronger together.

"Ready?" Caleb asked as we stood outside the council chamber, the recording of Marcus's betrayal secure in his pocket.

I nodded, squaring my shoulders. "Ready."

Whatever happened next would change everything—for me, for Caleb, for werewolves everywhere. The path my mother had begun mapping twenty years ago was about to be walked, for better or worse. And I would be leading the way, with Caleb beside me and a growing pack at our backs.

The time for hiding, for pretending, for denying my heritage was over. I was Eve Gray, daughter of Eleanor, last of my bloodline but first of a new understanding of what werewolves could be together.

And I was ready to face whatever came next.