Well hello again. Yet another chapter done. I'll finish this by summer if it's the last thing I do.

Edit (the summer after): Suuuure, young me. I believe you.

Warning: Chapter may contain an extreme case of 'the feels'. Side effects may be uncontrollable weeping or wanting to rip out the guts of a certain character. Okay, it's not really that bad. Just ... be prepared.

The thin envelope rested on my palm, so light it was almost immaterial. I was perched on one of the higher walls in the ruins, my legs dangling over a twenty-foot drop to the courtyard. One slip, and I would be a human pancake on the stones below. It didn't bother me in the slightest.

I had been trying to work up the courage to open it for hours now, but it was only when the sun's rays claimed the horizon that I finally ripped the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper, dyed yellow with age. Taking a deep breath, I began to read. It took time and effort to sound out every word, but I managed it eventually. Mainly because Rhodric had written with consideration for my literacy skills.

If you're reading this, I'm dead. Well, actually, that's a bit overdramatic. You might have just found my hiding place.

I'm writing while you're eleven years old and building a tree house with my son. I fully intend to tell you everything when you turn eighteen, but there's no guarantee I'll survive that long, and I thought it best that the truth doesn't die with me.

Over the years, you may have wondered exactly why we came to your birth pack. I don't make a habit of attacking packs openly, but I didn't have much choice. See, I was looking for you.

But let me start at the beginning: when I first met Jessie (Rhys's mother), I was great friends with another mated couple. Alex and Evie Saunders. They were packlings, sadly, but the nicest I ever had the fortune to meet.

And they were your parents, Skye. And things were all fine and dandy until shit started going wrong. I won't tell the whole gruesome story now. But I will tell you how it ended.

Alex and Evie died. Jessie died. I was left mateless and friendless and half-mad with grief. Went looking for revenge, like the heartbroken youth I was, and left Rhys and Bran with their grandma, and you with your birth pack, hoping they would take care of you. I was wrong, as you know only too well. I killed their Alpha when I dropped you off, and it seems like they took it out on you. Sorry about that.

It took years to track down Jessie's killers. Even then, the worst of them escaped. He had shown an interest in you, so I attacked your pack to find you again.

Trouble was, I had no idea what you looked like. None of the pack leaders were cooperating, and there was no Lauren Saunders, which was the name your parents gave you. It looked hopeless until a tiny, black wolf attacked me to protect her friend. You were the spitting image of your mother.

At that point I couldn't read any further. I crumpled the letter in my mind, taking the time to organise my thoughts.

Rhodric had known my parents. Yes, I had suspected that. But to have it so blatantly written in front of me felt off-putting.

They were dead. It was an assumption I had made a thousand times. I just felt I should care more. They were the reason I was alive. And they meant nothing to me.

My real name was Lauren Saunders. Already, I hated it. I scratched the initials into the dusty stones. LS. It was all backwards. Not right. Not me.

Then my rogue side pushed its way to the forefront, and I was all defiance and anger. None of it was true. My name was Skye Llewellyn and I was Rhodric's daughter through and through. He wasn't dead. He was far too stubborn to die. I did my best to flatten the letter and scanned it to find my place.

I understand if you hate me for not telling you this sooner. I waited until you were old enough to find your real family, if that's what you want. It was selfish, though. I didn't want to lose you.

So ... I'm dead, huh? Sucks. Put me next to Jessie, if it's not too much trouble. Stop Rhys doing anything stupid. He's a damned hooligan sometimes. And look after your sister for me. Goddess knows she needs someone to help her.

Odd. If this had been written when I was eleven, he wouldn't have known Fion was mated to Brandon. So why...?

I'm not usually one for mushy, heartfelt crap, but I'll make an exception this once. These last years with you, Rhys and Fion have made me happier than I could ever have imagined being without my mate. Thanks for that.

While that I'm gone, I suppose you can babysit my rogues. Hide anything sugary and stick to a 10 pm bedtime and you should be just fine.

Good luck.

It was lucky the letter ended there, because my eyes were too blurry with tears to read any further. He was so afraid that I'd hate him. Rhodric didn't realise that I couldn't hate him, not even if I wanted to.

I was distracted from my thoughts by a scratching sound behind me. Every muscle jerking to awareness, I scrambled up into a crouch. But it was just Leo. He pulled himself onto the wall and sat down beside me. Our legs hung parallel, close enough to brush together.

"Hey," Leo greeted me, then noticed my reddened eyes. "You okay?"

I hurriedly stuffed the letter into my pocket, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. I absolutely hated crying.  "Uh, yeah. Fine."

"I hate that word," Leo grumbled. "People use it to lie. I can see through your bullshit, Skye."

"In that case, I'm okay," I corrected with a faint smile.

He looked at me disapprovingly. He still didn't believe me, but didn't push it any further. "So what brings you up here on this lovely morning?"

I snuck a glance at my bulging pocket and suddenly got an urge to tell him the truth. Rhys was far away, Fion was inaccessible, and there was no one else I felt like talking to. Despite having my doubts about Leo,  I found myself trusting him. What harm could this information possibly do in the wrong hands? So I was adopted. We all knew that anyway.

"Apparently I'm supposed to be called Lauren. And Rhodric knew my parents," I admitted quietly, half hoping he wouldn't hear me.

"And that bothers you?" Leo asked with a frown.

"I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore, and I feel like my whole life has been a lie. So, yes — that bothers me." The words came out in a growl but to my surprise, Leo ignored the challenge and squeezed my hand instead.

"Names are just ways of identifying ourselves. They don't define who we are. You've been called Skye your whole life. Why should the identity of your parents change that?" Leo reasoned, and I realised he was making a lot of sense.

"It shouldn't ... I guess," I spoke slowly but decisively. "You're a lot smarter than I give you credit for."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Leo replied, grinning now. "You finished your identity crisis now?"

I rolled my eyes, but smiled despite myself and slapped his arm lightly. "Seriously though, Leo, thanks."

"Anytime," he said cheerfully.  "Now let's get down from here before the rest of the camp wakes up."

"Wait up." He paused halfway through getting up. "If it's not to protect your mate, why are you really helping us?"

"Brandon is ruthless and volatile. He needs to go.  And I am protecting my mate," Leo replied. For the first time, he looked like he was being honest with me.

"Rhys can't find her, you know. There's no way to keep her safe if Brandon catches you."

"I have to trust her to look after herself. As for Rhys ... maybe he's looking in the wrong places." Leo lowered himself to the ground, using the rough stones as handholds, without waiting for my reply. Just when I thought we had been making progress, it was back to square one. He was hiding something, and he didn't want me to know what.

I stayed on the wall for a while, looking at the sunrise. My feelings about Leo were mangled and confused. It was like trying to solve a jigsaw when I was missing most of the pieces. Was he loyal to Brandon? Was he loyal to me? Was he part of a different faction altogether?

And where else could Rhys look? Off the top of my head, I could think of a few possibilities. She could be human, which was rare but possible. It would explain why the werewolf community didn't know. Or, his mate could be a male. Jacob and Callum were likely candidates if that was the case. But he kept referring to a girl.

Having completely given up on ever working out what was going on in Leo's head, I began the slow climb off the wall. My hands and feet found each ledge effortlessly. The footholds were imprinted in my memory, after years of using it as a perch.

I jumped the last few feet, landing lightly on my toes. Davies and Sophie were waiting there, strangely. They were holding hands and wearing matching smiles. Something was definitely afoot.

"We're ready," Sophie said with obvious excitement. "We've finished the weapons and the defences."

Finally, I thought. It had been difficult to restrain myself this long. My wolf wanted to rip out Brandon's throat, and I can't say I disagreed with her.  Patience had never been one of my strong suits. Now, at last, we could put the plan into action.

"Someone needs to physically go and tell Rhys. I can't risk visiting Fion again," I decided. "It'll be dangerous, though — sneaking past the guards, so volunteers only. As I remember, Brandon said leaving was a capital offence."

"I'll go," Davies offered immediately. "And I know Aaron will too. We won't get caught."

Sophie's eyes widened in alarm, and I had a few inhibitions myself, but someone had to do it. And Davies was certainly qualified. "Alright, fetch him. Lie low and wait for my signal. Oh, and leave camp separately. It'll reduce the risk."

I would have gone personally — gladly, even — but, if I left, the rogues would be as useful as headless chickens. They were great at fighting, they just needed a leader to point them in the right direction. And we were a little short on leaders at the moment.

He smiled insolently. "Yes, boss."

My first stop on the tour-of-mischief was Maggie's tent. It was too early for even our head chef to be at work, so for once, she was inside. She gave me a relieved hug the moment I appeared; I had seen her in the canteen the day before, but we hadn't had a chance to talk privately.

"How are you? And how are Rhys and Fion?" she asked while smothering me.

I managed to surface for enough air to gasp an answer, peeling my face from layers of warm clothing. She smelled nice at least — like freshly baked cookies. "Rhys is on the run, Fion's stuck with her pig-headed mate and I'm organising a mutiny, so I'd say we're all just peachy."

"Don't get sassy with me, young lady, or you'll feel the back of my hand," Maggie warned me, her usually gentle eyes narrowing.

"I'm nearly eighteen!" I spluttered incredulously. "Nearly old enough to recognise my mate and have my own kids."

"The key word being nearly. So until that day comes, I'll discipline you all I want." She then switched back into kind-old-lady mode. I could have sworn she was bipolar. "Now what did you want, dearie?"

I took a cautious step back, uncertain if the rant was really over, or she was just lulling me into a false sense of security. "I was wondering if you still have our recorders. I left my last one in New Dawn a while back."

Maggie bent down to rummage in a bag. A minute of searching produced a dozen tiny cassette players. She handed them to me, and I slipped them into my pocket, my fingers brushing across the letter as I did so. Would Maggie know anything about my parents? It seemed unlikely.

"Thanks," I called out as I left the tent.

The next stop was at my own sleeping spot, where I collected a huge piece of the elastic that we used for catapults and an old t-shirt. It was tricky and fiddly work, but with a bare minimum of frustration, I succeeded in making a giant slingshot.

I found a deserted area behind the ruins to use it, because, let's face it — this next part would look a tad suspicious. Sophie and Ollie held the two ends, while I loaded a cassette tape into the catapult, and fired it off into the tangle of forest which surrounded our camp.

Howling filled the air, along with growls and snarls just to mix it up. In quick succession, we turned the sling and fired off the other tapes, so it soon sounded like we were being attacked from all directions. Rhys's reinforcements, a day early, I mused. If a ruckus like that couldn't get every border guard leaving their posts, then I didn't know what could.

"Now," I told Davies and Aaron mentally. A flicker of assent rebounded across the link.

I sat with Sophie under the shade of a tree to play cheat (also known as BS) with a pack of cards while we waited to find out if Davies and Aaron had made it out. The game made us seem innocent and would serve as an alibi if Brandon looked my way for the culprit. I had already dismantled the slingshot and hidden its components, but better safe than sorry.

It took them half an hour to find and turn off all the recordings, so when silence filled the air again I thought it sensible to return to camp. Within earshot of the tents, I knew something was dangerously wrong.

Silence.

Complete silence.

That never happened in our camp. Not ever. Not one shifter was talking; they all just stood lining the way in, all watching something that was just out of my sightline. Hurrying now, I found a viewpoint amongst the crowd. What I saw made my blood run cold.

Davies, bloody and bruised, was being dragged towards the front of the crowd by Brandon's men.

Sophie screamed. I managed to seize her arm and hold her in place long enough for other rogues to restrain her. She kicked and scratched and fought, but they held firm. This was my mess, and I would be the one to die cleaning it up.

Brandon had promised to execute anyone trying to leave. I remembered that all too well. But he wouldn't really do it, would he? Surely even his twisted mind knew that spontaneous executions would set every rogue against him.

At least Aaron had got away, so Rhys would be here soon enough. We just had to survive another day.

I watched as Davies was forced onto his knees outside the command tent. One of the humans pointed a gun at his forehead. Any thought of strategy flew out of the window as I began shoving my way through the crowd. I refused to stand and watch while my friend was shot in cold blood. And if that made me a reckless idiot, I honestly couldn't have cared less.

The guards seemed to be waiting for Brandon. He appeared from the forest shortly after, furious and clutching something in his hand. The crushed remains of a cassette tape were dropped at Davies' feet. He stared at them resignedly, nodded, and turned his eyes to the crowd, scanning for a last glimpse of his mate.

Brave. He was brave enough to die. And that only made me even more desperate to save him.

At that point, Leo materialised from the crowds, as if he had been searching for me. He caught my waist with one arm and used my own momentum to pin me against a tree. The bark slammed into my back, shocking me into freezing long enough for him to get a death-grip on my collar. He would strangle me before he let me attack Brandon.

"Skye. No," Leo whispered. Luckily, all the attention was on Davies. Nobody seemed to notice our little scuffle. "There's nothing you can do. He'll just kill you too!"

I kicked his shins repeatedly, full of desperation. He ignored me, although I later found out that every one of the blows were hard enough to bruise. "Leo, you don't understand — I asked him to leave. This is my fault."

"You can't save him now," Leo hissed back. "Don't throw your own life away."

"This man tried to leave camp. He failed, as I'm sure you can all see," Brandon announced. He didn't even know Davies' name. That, more than anything else, made me mad.

He paused to smirk over at us, noticing that Leo was restraining me. He looked frustratingly unsurprised. Did he know I was behind it all along? If so, why not just kill me and get it over with? Was it more convenient for him, knowing who his enemy was? And he had Leo to keep an eye on me, make sure I didn't do anything really dangerous...

Brandon continued with a triumphant smile, "As I have already warned you, the penalty for that is death. May his example remind everyone what happens to traitors in this camp."

"Let me go, damn you!" I growled, frustrated.

Brandon nodded at the gunman, who sighted down his rifle.

After a final struggle, I managed to get away. But I only made it a few steps before a gunshot halted me in my tracks. Davies crumpled to the floor, a red river flowing from his temple.

Although Leo caught the back of my jacket, it was no longer necessary. Shock crept through my limbs, paralysing them.  Sophie screamed again, this time full of heart-wrenching pain. The breaking of the mate-bond is excruciating. You could survive it, but you could never quite be the same again.

I had known that boy for seven years of my life. He had initially tried to beat me to a pulp and ended up as one of my best friends. And now he was dead. He was dead, and it was my fault.

The crowd was dispersing now, muttering and glaring at Brandon. They would have attacked there and then, if Ollie hadn't quietly reminded them we were waiting for reinforcements. Countless rogues brushed against Sophie as they left, and offered a silent acknowledgement of her sacrifice.

She remained where she was, oblivious and inconsolable. Completely and utterly broken, and now missing her other half. She would recover in time, as Rhodric had, but it left a scar.

Then the adrenaline drained away all at once, and I dropped to the ground. Leo's arm found its way around my shoulders. His voice was full of misery and hopelessness — an exact echo of how I was feeling.

"I'm sorry, Skye. I really am."