Tension hung in the air like a thick fog as Felicia, Damien, and the boys rushed back to the Silverstone Packhouse, their footsteps echoing through the silence. Felicia’s grip on Danny and Max’s hands was like a vice, her knuckles white and strained as she fought to keep her emotions in check. The memory of Danielle’s taunting words still lingered in her mind, the venom in her voice making Felicia’s heart race with anxiety.

“If you can’t be mine, you can’t be anyone else’s,” Danielle had sneered, her threat hanging over Felicia like the sword of Damocles. Since then, Felicia’s heart had been racing like a wild animal, refusing to slow down.

Damien walked beside her, his jaw clenched in a tight line, his shoulders stiff with suppressed rage. His piercing green eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger, his entire being coiled and ready to spring into action. He wasn’t just walking – he was hunting, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on his prey.

The trees seemed to loom over them, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch them. Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made Felicia jump, her nerves stretched taut like a bowstring. But Danielle was nowhere to be found, leaving behind only the ominous weight of her threats.

When they finally reached the Silverstone Packhouse, the large wooden doors creaked open, and Lucien was waiting, his dark eyes scanning them with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He took in the shaken expressions, the lingering fear in Felicia’s eyes, and the tension that vibrated through the air like a live wire.

“What happened?” Lucien asked, his voice sharp with concern, his tone like a gentle prod that urged them to spill out the truth.

Felicia couldn’t speak – the weight of the night was still crushing her, making it hard to breathe. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of fear and anxiety, unable to find a lifeline to cling to.

It was Damien who stepped forward, his voice rough and gravelly, like he was forcing the words out of his throat. “Danielle,” he growled, the name like a bitter taste in his mouth.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but his dark eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through the veil of mystery. “Who?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

Damien took a slow, heavy breath, his chest rising and falling like a bellows, before his green eyes met Lucien’s directly. “The girl I left Felicia for,” he admitted, the words like a confession torn from his soul.

Lucien’s face twisted with disgust, his features contorting in a mixture of shock and anger. “You mean to tell me the woman you replaced Felicia with is the same woman who’s been murdering people and setting you up?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

Damien’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and shame. “Yes,” he growled, the single word like a rock that dropped into a silent pond, sending ripples of consequence through the air.

Lucien let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, isn’t that ironic?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Felicia shot him a look, but there was no amusement in Lucien’s tone – only a cold, hard anger that simmered beneath the surface.

Lucien turned his gaze back to Damien, his voice colder now, his words like a judge’s verdict. “Tell me everything,” he commanded, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity.

Damien clenched his fists, his knuckles white with tension, before he exhaled sharply and spoke. “She admitted to everything. The rogue attacks, the murders, even Orion’s death. It was all her,” he said, the words like a dam breaking, releasing a torrent of truth into the air.

Lucien stiffened, his usual laid-back demeanor disappearing like a ghost, replaced by a cold, hard anger that made his dark eyes flash with fury. His wolf bristled beneath his skin, its presence like a living, breathing thing that urged him to act.

Felicia nodded slowly, her voice soft but steady, like a candle that burned bright in the darkness. “She carved Damien’s pack name into Orion’s body to frame him, but in reality, it was all her,” she said, the words like a slow-moving river that flowed with a quiet intensity.

Lucien’s fingers curled into tight fists, his knuckles turning white with rage, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and disgust. “She killed Felicia’s brother?” he asked, his voice like a whip that cracked through the air.

Damien continued, his voice gruff, like he was forcing himself to speak. “I accused you because the clairvoyant told me it was someone I hated who was behind the attacks. And I—” He hesitated before forcing the words out. “I forgot about Danielle,” he admitted, his voice like a confession torn from his soul.

Lucien let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head in disgust. “Of course you did,” he said, his eyes flashing with a cold, hard anger. “So, because of your blind rage, you accused me, and innocent wolves died,” he accused, his voice like a hammer that drove the nail of guilt into Damien’s heart.