Chapter 71 A Good Plan
Aelira’s POV
“What did you tell Alarion?” I repeat as we move away from the
confrontation.
Daelor glances down at me, his silver–gray eyes sparkling with mischief in the dim corridor of the hotel. A playful smile spreads across his lips.
“I mentioned that I have been infatuated with you since I first laid eyes on
you at the Territorial Gathering three years ago.”
I nearly trip in my heels, my heart momentarily stopping. “You what?”
4 W Y N Y Y Z
His deep laugh resonates within me as he steadies me with a hand on my
elbow. “Your expression is priceless right now.
“That’s not amusing,” I mutter, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks.
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“I’m just teasing,” Daelor replies, his demeanor becoming more serious. “I
informed him of our concerns regarding his mother’s poisoning.”
I halt my steps. “You told him about Esther? Just like that?”
“He needed to be informed,” Daelor answers plainly. “His mother’s life may
be in jeopardy.”
“But will he take your word for it?” I worry about my lower lip. “Alarion has
complete faith in Cyrinne.”
Daelor’s expression turns slightly stern. “He may not believe me right away,
but I have planted the seed of doubt. That’s sufficient for now.”
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His confidence reassures me, yet I can’t shake the feeling of unease. “And
what if he challenges Cyrinne about it? She’ll figure out that we suspect
her.”
“Let her find out,” Daelor states, his voice low and menacing. “Fear makes
people reckless.”
Looking at his determined gaze, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude
for having Daelor on my side.
“Thank you,” I say quietly as we reach his car.
He opens the passenger door for me. “For what?”
“For caring about Esther,” I respond sincerely. “She has always been kind to
me.”
His silver–gray eyes soften. “Get in. Let’s get you home.”
The journey back to Myrthale Residences is silent, both of us immersed in our own thoughts about the night’s revelations.
*****
The following morning, a gentle knock rouses me from sleep. Still groggy, I
check the time – 7:30 AM. Who could be visiting this early?
I wrap a robe around myself and walk to the door, peering through the
peephole.
There stands Daelor in the hallway, looking surprisingly alert and
handsome for such an early hour.
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“Good morning,” he greets me as I open the door, holding up a small basket covered with a cloth. “I figured you might be hungry.”
The delightful aroma coming from the basket makes my stomach growl.
“Did you cook again?” I ask, stepping aside to let him enter.
“I prepared lamb soup and scallion pancakes,” he replies, heading directly
to my small dining table. “Traditional breakfast. Good for pregnancy.”
His casual mention of my condition still catches me off guard. Most wolves would shy away from discussing pregnancy with an unmated she-
wolf, yet Daelor seems entirely at ease with it.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say, though I secretly appreciate his
thoughtfulness.
He starts unpacking the food, arranging it neatly on my table. “I know, but I
wanted to.”
The soup is hearty and flavorful, with tender pieces of lamb and medicinal
herbs that I recognize as particularly beneficial for pregnant wolves. The
scallion pancakes are perfectly crisp on the outside yet soft on the inside.
“This is incredible,” I confess between mouthfuls. “Where did you learn to
cook like this?”
“My grandmother made sure all Briarhallows learn essential survival skills,”
Daelor explains, watching me eat with clear satisfaction. “Cooking was
part of that.”
“Survival skills?” I arch an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t categorize this as ‘basic.“”
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He shrugs, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Briarhallows always go all in.”
After finishing breakfast, Daelor offers to give me a ride to work. I gratefully agree, still feeling nervous about confronting the day after everything we’ve discovered regarding Cyrinne and Roderic.
As we near Verdant Moon Herbalists, I notice a strange disturbance outside the shop. A crowd has formed, brandishing signs and chanting
enthusiastically.
“What’s happening?” I lean forward in my seat, squinting to decipher the
signs.
Daelor reduces the speed of the car, his expression growing serious.
“Demonstrators.”
As we draw nearer, I can discern their messages: “Respect Luna Cyrinne!
““Homewrecker Out!” “No Place for Immoral Herbalists!”
My stomach sinks. “They are here because of me.”
“Stay put in the car,” Daelor commands, parking safely away from the
crowd.
I observe him as he scrutinizes the protestors, his Alpha presence
formidable even from within the car. “They’re mainly from Thunder Pack,”
he notes, pointing out their symbols.
“Alarion wouldn’t…” I start to say, then pause. Could he?
“Not Alarion,” Daelor clarifies, pulling out his phone. “Cyrinne.”
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He taps the screen a few times before handing it to me. It’s open on
Cyrinne’s social media profile, where she posted earlier that day:
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“Thank you to all my supporters for your kindness in such a trying time.
Despite battling morning sickness, I strive to remain optimistic. It breaks
my heart to witness how swiftly someone can forget years of friendship
and betray pack values. Some wolves will go to any lengths for attention,
even at the cost of another wolf’s happiness. But I choose to focus on the
blessing growing within me and the bright future that awaits with my true
mate.
#StayingStrong #PackLoyalty #TrueLove”
The post has received thousands of supportive comments, many explicitly
calling me out and demanding I “stop harassing Cyrinne and Alarion.”
Reading through the severe criticisms makes me feel physically ill. Cyrinne
has skillfully crafted herself as the victim while casting me as the
antagonist.
“This is absurd,” I murmur, scrolling through the comments. “I haven’t done
anything to her.”
“That’s exactly why she’s targeting you,” Daelor responds, taking back his
phone. “She fears what you might reveal.”
My own phone buzzes with notifications–dozens of them from unfamiliar
accounts, all sending venomous messages. I quickly turn it off, feeling
overwhelmed.
“She’s managed to turn the entire territory against me,” I say, my voice trembling a little.
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Daelor’s expression is serious but resolute. “Not the whole territory. And
not for much longer.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ll have my team address the online comments,” he explains. “As for these
protestors…”
Before he can finish, my phone rings, showing my manager’s number. I
turn it back on to answer.
“Hello, manager…”
“Aelira, you haven’t arrived yet, right? Today is your day off. Don’t come to
the cooperative.” His voice is taut.
“I’m already at the door of the cooperative,” I reply, my anxiety rising as I
watch the crowd.
“Stay away.” The urgency in his voice brooks no argument. “The entrance is surrounded by Cyrinne’s brainless supporters. They are all young wolves. If
any conflict arises, you can’t risk offending them.”
I take a deep breath, feeling as if my lungs might burst from the stress.
This situation is spiraling out of control.
The manager provides me with several more instructions. Just as l’am about to disconnect the call, I catch a colleague’s voice in the background:
“Manager, a surveillance video has just been released on social media, and it’s going viral!”
A video? I arch my eyebrows in astonishment.
As I ponder what the video might contain, Daelor, who stands beside me,
smirks with satisfaction and offers me his phone.
A woman’s chilling voice pierces the silence of the car: “You claimed you weren’t in the mood to join me in finalizing the mate bond severance, yet
here you are, with the time to accompany Cyrinne on a shopping spree?”
I turn to Daelor, taken aback. Is that–my voice?
