POV Matthias
Betrayal tastes like copper and ash.
I discovered this while drowning my mate bond in tactical planning at 3 AM.
"The eastern border's vulnerable here," Zack pointed out, leaning over the massive territory map. "If Blake told them about the rotation gap—"
"She did." The words came out flat. Everything Blake told her parents was etched in my brain like acid on metal. "Tuesdays, 2-4 AM. Skeleton crew because of the shift change."
My Beta winced. "Matt—"
"Double the patrols. Triple them. I don't care if we have to clone wolves." I marked positions with sharp, violent strokes. "And move the weapons cache from the north bunker. She knew about that too."
Every defensive position she'd shared, every weakness she'd reported—I could see her parents' attack plan like they'd drawn it for me. In a fucked up way, her betrayal was saving us.
How's that for irony?
"We need allies," I said, already reaching for my phone. "The Riverside Pack—"
"Alpha Braiden won't help. Not after the border disputes."
"Border disputes," I laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut. "You mean the carefully orchestrated conflicts Nightshade's been engineering for three years to isolate us?"
The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity.
Every territorial spat, every damaged alliance, every moment we'd been pushed toward standing alone—Alpha Lucas Bishop had been playing chess while we played checkers.
"Get me Alpha Braiden. Now."
The call took twenty minutes of diplomatic tap-dancing.
Yes, I knew we'd been assholes about the river access.
No, I wasn't too proud to admit Nightshade had played us both.
Yes, I was formally requesting aid under the Ancient Accords.
"You're telling me Alpha Lucas orchestrated our conflicts?" Braiden's voice carried skepticism thick enough to spread on toast.
"I'm telling you he's coming for me, and after he's done with Bloodmoon, Riverside's next." I forced authority into my voice despite wanting to punch through walls. "Stand with us, or stand alone when he comes for you."
Long silence. Then: "How many warriors do you need?"
"All of them."
Another pause. "You'll owe me."
"Bill me if we survive."
I hung up feeling marginally less like we were marching toward slaughter. Forty Riverside warriors wouldn't turn the tide, but they'd make it a fight instead of an execution.
"Matthias." My mother stood in the doorway, and fuck if she didn't look ready for war herself. "We need to talk."
"Not now."
"Yes. Now." She stepped inside, closing the door with maternal authority that trumped my Alpha status. "It’s about Blake."
"There's nothing to discuss about Blake." I turned back to the map, but she moved faster, blocking my view.
"She came to me before she left."
My wolf snarled. "I don't care."
"You do." Her voice carried that gentle steel that had guided our pack through Dad's death. "You care so much it's eating you alive, which is why you need to hear this."
"She lied. She spied. She—"
"She survived." Mom's words hit like ice water. "That girl survived twenty years of systematic destruction that would've broken most wolves before they could walk."
"You don't know—"
"I do." She pulled out a leather journal I didn’t recognized. "It’s Amelia’s diary, she told me about this during her last visit before the wedding. Found it in the garden after Blake left."
My hands shook as I took it. "Mom—"
"Read the marked pages. Then we'll talk."
She left me alone with the diary of a dead girl and the ghost of every assumption I'd made.
May 3rd - Blake stood up to Father today. He broke her wrist for it, but she didn't cry. She never cries anymore. I wish I could take her place, absorb her punishments, but they've decided I'm too valuable to damage.
June 19th - Mother locked Blake outside again. Two full days this time because she 'looked at her wrong.' I snuck her food when I could. She thanked me like I was doing her some great favor instead of basic human decency.
August 2nd - Father's latest game: making Blake recite her failures at dinner. Tonight's list included 'existing,' 'breathing too loud,' and 'contaminating the bloodline.' She smiled through it all. That smile haunts me in nightmares now.
December 15th - Blake asked me today if I think she'll ever shift. The hope in her eyes broke my heart. How do I tell her that even if she does, they'll find some other way to destroy her? At least without a wolf, she has an excuse for their hatred.
I slammed the diary shut, bile rising in my throat.
Page after page of casual cruelty, systematic abuse, a catalog of destruction disguised as parenting.
My wolf whimpered, recognizing what we'd missed. Blake hadn't betrayed us out of malice—she'd been programmed from birth to obey or die.
And when faced with that choice, she'd still found the courage to warn us.
"Fuck…" The word exploded out of me as I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it against the wall. "Fuck!"
Mom reappeared like she'd been waiting. "She chose you, Matthias. After twenty years of being taught that defiance meant death, she chose to tell you the truth."
"I sent her away." The words tasted like poison. "She finally broke her conditioning, finally chose us, and I sent her away…"
"You were hurting."
"So was she!" I roared, Alpha power making the windows rattle. "She's been hurting her whole fucking life, and when she needed me most… I abandoned her."
The mate bond, which I'd been trying to ignore, pulsed with Blake's anguish. She was out there, alone and unprotected, probably believing she deserved whatever came next.
"I have to find her."
"You have to protect the pack first." Mom's pragmatism cut through my spiral. "Win this war, then find your mate."
She was right.
I knew she was right.
But my wolf howled at the thought of Blake facing her parents' wrath alone, without pack, without protection, without the mate who'd failed her just as thoroughly as her family had.
"After," I promised myself, turning back to battle plans. "After we survive this, I'll find her. I'll bring her home. I'll spend the rest of our lives proving she's worth more than they ever let her believe."
The bond pulsed again, carrying fear and guilt and something that felt dangerously like goodbye.
‘Hold on,’ I thought desperately, knowing she couldn't hear me—I'd severed our mind-link when I sent her away.
The bond was still there, raw and aching, but the direct line between our thoughts was gone.
‘Just hold on, Blake. I'm coming.’
First, a war. Then, redemption.
If we lived that long.