His Rogue Luna is a Princess (Mia and Derek) novel Chapter 73

Chapter 73

DEREK

The air still smelled like ash.

Even though the fires had long been extinguished and the debris mostly cleared from the

summit grounds, the scent of smoke clung to everything—our clothes, the walls, the

people. A reminder of just how close we’d come to losing it all.

I stood on the temporary command platform that had been constructed out of broken

tables and reinforced scaffolding, arms crossed, watching teams of warriors drag broken

furniture and busted tech out of the conference hall. The flags that had once adorned the high rafters were gone–either burned or shredded. The ones that remained hung limp and

darkened with soot.

Joe appeared beside me, sweat slicking his temple. “That’s the last of the injured from Silverclaw moved to the med tent,” he said. “Beta Lowell’s team is sweeping the perimeter again. Still no sign of stragglers.”

I nodded, jaw tight. “And the press?”

He grimaced. “Champing at the bit. The narrative’s shifting. Last night we were heroes. Today?” He handed me a tablet, the headlines scrolling in bold red and black:

Alliance on Fire: Can the Packs Survive United? Moonstone and Silverclaw’s Public Romance Distraction or Strategy? A Summit in Ruins—Literally.

I shoved it back into his hand. “Spin it back. Send statements to Ridgewood, Aspenrun, and Windmere. Reaffirm cooperation. And Joe–no more leaks. From anyone.”

“Understood,” he said, then disappeared into the fray.

Gamma Brock joined me next. His shirt was torn at the shoulder and his arm was bandaged, but he moved like nothing had touched him. “Alpha,” he said in greeting, then handed me

a battered document enclosed in a clear sleeve.

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“What’s this?” I asked, already sensing I wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Pulled it off a rogue near the perimeter,” he said grimly. “One of the ones Erebus gutted. It was stuffed in the lining of his boot, wrapped in oilcloth.”

I set it on the table in front of us and pulled the sleeve open, the pungent smell of blood and old leather hitting me immediately. Inside was a folded, weathered map. When I opened it, my breath caught.

It was a layout of Silverclaw territory.

But not just any layout. This wasn’t the modern terrain most packs had access to. This was old. Annotated with coded notes and hand–sketched marks–supply routes, border

border gaps, and… there it was. My eyes narrowed.

The southern tunnel.

Long sealed. Supposedly collapsed after the border war with Moonstone. It had been a contingency escape route only a handful of people had ever known about. My father. His Beta. The inner council.

“How the hell did they get this?” I muttered.

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Brock said. “This isn’t just insider knowledge. This is ancient. Only someone with access to the Alpha’s inner circle would know about the southern tunnel. Most of our current patrols don’t even know that tunnel ever existed.”

I stared at the map, fury slowly boiling under the surface.

A set of footsteps clicked behind us. Heels–too impractical for post–battle terrain.

I didn’t even have to turn around.

“Thank the Goddess,” Cassandra’s voice rang out, breathless. “You’re alive.”

I turned slowly.

She swept toward me, black hair pulled into a twisted knot, her lipstick immaculate despite

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the smoke and dirt still clinging to everyone else. Her dress was too new. Too clean. She hadn’t been anywhere near the carnage.

For some reason, that bothered me. Those of us who had been here, had been witnesses to the attack–who had been victims–had really pulled together. We’d survived shared peril. It felt wrong to see her here amongst the limping and bruised.

“Cassandra,” I said, flatly. “What are you doing here?”

She blinked at me innocently. “My father,” she said. “And you, of course. I came as soon as

I heard.”

Right.

a

Joe, returning with a stack of field reports, threw her a sideways glance before stepping off again. Cassandra’s gaze drifted to the map on the table in front of us.

“What’s that?” she asked casually, but I saw the interest spark in her eyes.

She moved toward the table without waiting for an answer, her black hair swinging over one shoulder. Joe glanced at me, silently asking if he should cover the document. I didn’t say a word. Let her see it.

“A map,” I said. “Taken off one of the rogues.”

Cassandra leaned in, lips slightly parted. “Is that… Silverclaw?”

“It is,” Joe muttered. “Down to supply routes, fallback positions, even the old southern tunnel system.”

Her brows lifted. “That’s real? I thought that was just one of those war stories.”

“It’s real,” I said. “Though it hasn’t been used in decades. Most of the current pack doesn’t

even know it exists.”

“And this was found… on a rogue?” Her eyes tracked the aged parchment, the smudges of

blood. “That’s a hell of a leak.”

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Brock nodded, jaw tight. “It’s not just a leak. This is ancient knowledge–strategic, inner- circle level. The kind of intel passed down directly from Alpha to Alpha.”

“And you think someone from Silverclaw gave it up?” she asked, too quickly.

I didn’t answer.

Brock sighed. “I don’t really see any other explanation.”

A look came over Cassandra’s face and faded just as quickly.

“Do you have any suspects?”

Brock crossed his arms. “It couldn’t have been just anyone.”

“It had to have been someone with access,” I said. “Like you.” I looked at her levelly.

Cassandra shrugged. “Yes,” she said. “Though I wouldn’t even know. where to find a rogue.” She looked at me innocently. “Anyone else?”

I reached down and picked up the map, rewrapping it and putting it in the pocket of my

coat. “We’ll be making inquiries.”

She hummed. There was obviously more she wanted to say.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m just wondering if you’ll only be looking within Silverclaw, that’s all.”

“What are you getting at?”

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