Chapter 128: Someone Made Sure

The phone went off like a small explosion on the nightstand.

Derek’s eyes snapped open. For a second, he lay completely still. Then Declan’s voice pushed through the mind-link, bypassing pleasantries entirely.

When did you start sleeping like a log? Get your arse out of bed and into the strategy room. Moonfang intel has something.

Derek dragged a hand down his face. Beside him, Kira stirred, pulling the duvet up over her shoulder with the determination of someone who had decided sleep was non-negotiable.

Then she opened one eye and looked at the window, where bright sunlight poured in. "What time is it?"

Derek checked his phone. "Noon."

A sleepy laugh escaped her. "Is it really noon?" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "We actually slept like normal people for once. Goddess, I thought kings weren’t allowed to be lazy."

Derek’s lips curved despite the tension already pulling at him. He rolled toward her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Seems I’m breaking all my own rules lately. Don’t tell anyone. They might think I’ve gone soft."

Kira grinned, poking his chest. "Too late. I already know you’re secretly a big softie underneath all that grumpiness." She stretched lazily, then sighed. "Though I suppose we can’t stay in bed forever."

Derek caught her hand and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They lingered a few moments longer, trading soft kisses and quiet laughter, before finally dragging themselves out of bed. In the shower, warm water cascaded over them as they helped each other wash.

As Kira washed her hair, Derek stood behind her without being asked, working the conditioner through the ends. For once, the world outside their bedroom felt far away.

When they came back out, Derek started reaching for his usual dress shirt. But Kira intercepted him immediately, snatching the shirt from him.

"You’re wearing something casual today," she announced, holding up a simple black shirt and dark jeans.

Derek raised an eyebrow, but the playful challenge in her eyes made him concede with a sigh. "Only because you asked."

She smiled with the quiet triumph of someone who had won a battle that technically never happened, and went back to her own side of the wardrobe. She helped him button the shirt, fingers brushing his chest, and he caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, and helped her zip her own dress, planting kisses all over her shoulders.

After finally zipping her dress, he turned her around to face him and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He didn’t want to let her go. He kissed her deeply, tasting the warmth of her mouth, trying to memorise the way she melted against him.

"Let’s stay a little longer," he murmured against her lips. "Declan can handle things."

She laughed softly and pulled back just enough to look at him. "Nana invited me for lunch. I promised her. Go do your king things. I’ll see you later."

She picked up her phone. "She texted last night. Something about a new recipe she wants me to try, and a conversation she says is long overdue. I’m slightly terrified."

"Of Nana?"

"Of what long overdue means when Nana says it."

He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing her cheekbone, and kissed her again.

Kira tried to wriggle out of his arms. "You have a meeting."

"I’m aware."

"Declan is going to come through that door if you don’t get down anytime soon."

He let her go reluctantly, watching as she slipped out of the room with one last bright smile. The door clicked shut behind her, and the warmth in his chest faded, replaced by the heavy pull of duty.

***

Down in the strategy room, Connor and Declan were already waiting. Bruce’s face was filled the screen of the secure tablet propped on the desk.

"Tell me," Derek said, settling into his chair.

Bruce leaned closer to his camera. "Alpha Rolf has been making movements. Quiet ones, but I’ve tracked three separate meetings in the past two weeks with envoys from the Northern region. He’s seeking an alliance with the Northern High Alpha."

Declan’s jaw tightened. "The Northern High Alpha," Declan bit out. "That man has always been a traitor at heart."

He leaned forward, arms braced on the table. "If Rolf is seeking allies up north, something fishy is definitely going on."

"We don’t know what yet," Bruce said carefully. "There’s no direct intelligence on the objective. But Rolf doesn’t move without a reason, and his reasons are never good."

Derek leaned back, his eyes on the middle distance. "Contact our men in the Northern region. I want to know what the High Alpha’s been doing, who he’s been meeting, what’s been moving through his borders. Everything."

"Understood," Bruce said.

"Any movement on the Umbras?" Derek asked.

Bruce sighed heavily. "Nothing solid. That rogue army I was tracking suddenly vanished without a trace."

Connor looked up. "Vanished?"

"Disappeared. No trail, no dispersal pattern, nothing. They were there, and then they simply weren’t. In my experience, armies don’t vanish. They go underground." He shook his head slowly. "If this is what I think it is, those aren’t just rogues."

"Umbras," Derek said.

Bruce nodded. "Their appearance was never random. Whatever they’re building toward, it’s deliberate, and it’s patient. I just can’t tell you yet what it is."

Connor crossed his arms. "A nexus," Connor said quietly. "If the Umbras are mobilising like this, if the rogue army is indeed the shadow wolves, and had gone underground, they could be searching for one."

Declan straightened. "Then we need to find it first. If a nexus exists and the Shadow King gets to it before we do—"

"He won’t," Derek said.

He knew what a corrupted nexus meant. The power they carried was not simply strength; it was the kind of force that could be turned, twisted, and weaponised into something that unmade things rather than built them. In the wrong hands, it was not a weapon. It was destruction.

"Double the border patrols," he said. "Northern and eastern borders both. I want reports every six hours, not twelve. And get our researchers on the nexus records, everything the archives have."

The call ended. They discussed a few security details for the borders before Connor and Declan left to handle patrols.

Derek turned to his desk and pulled up the report schedules, but the work sat in front of him without fully registering. His mind kept moving in a different direction, circling different things.

There is something you need to know, Your Grace.

He suddenly remembered Ishita from the night before. She had wanted to tell him something, but Connor’s call had interrupted her. He reached out through the mind-link, but her connection was blocked. Frowning, he linked Connor instead.

Send Ishita to my study.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. When it opened, it wasn’t Ishita who walked in; it was Connor, and his face was grim and pale.

Derek looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Where is she?"

"Ishita was involved in an accident this morning," Connor said. "She’s at the pack medical centre. Critical condition. She hasn’t regained consciousness."

The study was very quiet.

Derek sat completely still, his hands flat on the desk in front of him, looking at Connor with an expression that was not shock exactly, but the particular stillness of a man whose mind had just moved very quickly through a series of conclusions and arrived somewhere cold and certain.

Ishita had wanted to tell him something last night. She had looked uncertain, and he had been distracted. And now Ishita was unconscious in a medical bay.

It doesn’t add up. This was not an accident.

Someone had known what Ishita was about to say, and someone had made sure she never got the chance to say it.