I found Emma's office directly at the front of the town hall, marked with a large sign that read MAYOR to the left side of the doorway. She waved me in when she saw me through the window. She was on the phone, so I sat in one of the armchairs quietly to wait. Though the dizziness had mostly subsided, I had to make a conscious effort to keep my hand from pressing against my stomach.

"How was the shop?" She asked after she'd finished her call.

"Hot." I laughed stiffly. "I don't know how she spends all day in there."

"Was she working on the blades today?"

I shook my head. "A ring. She said it was for someone's birthday."

A knowing smile crossed Emma's face. "Marcie. She's turning eighteen next week; I bet her parents commissioned it for her."

I was struck again by Emma's knowledge and love for her community. There were just over 100 people living in Trout Creek, and I would have put money on her knowing each of their birthdays, middle names, and favorite things. She was a great mayor, and an even better person.

Which is why, as I studied her face, I began to consider telling her the truth. Or, at least, parts of it.

"Harper told me that the blades have brought in a lot of money," I began carefully. "That she's made over fifty of them."

Emma nodded and gestured around her office. For the first time, I noticed a bucket in the corner that was collecting water as it dripped steadily from a crack in the ceiling. "It's pretty obvious that we've been struggling to keep up for awhile now. This has been a big deal for our economy."

I took a deep breath. "Emma, I think I need to explain why I thought this was a resistance group."

She put down the papers she'd been sorting through and sat forward in her chair, propping her chin on her hands. "I've been wondering that myself."

"The blades aren't being used for protection. They're being used in attacks. Rogues have been targeting packs that have otherwise been peaceful." I swallowed hard, thinking about the look on Dmitri's face. On Gabriel's face. Two strong, confident Alphas: afraid. "Wolves are being killed."

Emma frowned, considering my words, then shook her head. "I'm sure they've been going to a pack. The man who comes to commission them is no rogue."

"He might be a middleman," I posited. "Rogues couldn't afford weapons like those on their own. Not in that quantity, at least."

She loosed a deep sigh and rubbed her hands over her face, hard. When she looked back up, I thought she suddenly looked her age: no longer the youthful, hopeful mayor I'd met days ago. "It wasn't just about the money."

I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to speak on her own terms. I wanted her to feel that she could confide in me, not that I forced the details out of her.

She chewed on her lip for a moment. "They offered protection, too. It's been a while since we've had any problems that we couldn't handle on our own, but powerful allies are never a bad thing to keep."

"What did they tell you about the blades?" I asked when she again fell silent.

"They wanted to arm their soldiers with them. He told us about an ongoing conflict, a territory war that he feared was starting up. He said they'd been hit with several attacks already, and he was desperate to find a way to protect his pack members."

After thinking for a minute, considering her words, or perhaps recalling that conversation, Emma continued: "We were reluctant, at first. Peters especially. We've always tried to stay out of their conflicts. But between the money on the table and the promise of protection...it was too good to pass up."

A voice in my mind was shouting at me to ask who the emissary was. What pack he was referring to. Surely he would have called it by name; Emma wouldn't have accepted his offer without that detail at least. Before I could ask, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"I'm not sure it would have been possible to turn down either way."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm no idiot," Emma said. "He was charming; he said all the right things. But I can tell when I'm being threatened. When my people are being threatened."

My jaw clenched involuntarily as I slowly came to understand exactly what had occurred. The emissary had exploited the vulnerabilities of Trout Creek, offered enticing incentives, maybe threatened repercussions. They'd been manipulated into accepting the deal. They were being used.

"Emma," I started. My voice was shaking but there was nothing I could do to hide it. "What pack was he from?"

She eyed me warily. It was obvious that there was more I wasn't telling her—like she said: she was no idiot. But instead of pushing back, she drew her lips into a tight line and nodded. "Let me find the contract."

While she dug in her file cabinet, I stood to pace. The ache in my stomach was only getting worse and a cold sweat had broken out across the back of my neck. I was close, so close, to getting the information we needed. But now that I was here, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. A feeling of unease had settled over me, weighing down my shoulders. Something wasn't right.

"Here," she pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across her desk. "This is the most recent one."

I stared down at the signature. William. I knew that name—where do I know that name from?

After several agonizing seconds, the realization hit me like a punch to the gut. William was Alpha Erick's Second. The blades had been commissioned by the Cascade Pack.

"Fuck," I swore, my head once again spinning violently. Emma saw the color drain from my face and moved quickly to help me sit back in the chair, then closed her office door and drew the blinds.

My mind went back immediately to the Alpha gathering. How bold—how fucking bold—Erick had been, hosting us on his estate. Laughing at us behind closed doors when we thought he'd been an ally. I pictured his library, lined with shelves and shelves of war books. Studies in strategy, tactics, history lessons.

Then, I thought of Odette. I was almost positive she didn't know; her emotions had been too genuine. She had been a pawn in all of this, too. Her parents sent her to Gabriel as a distraction to force him to buy into their game. He had been the most skeptical of the gathering, after all. The most hesitant to engage in any alliances.

"You know him," Emma said. A statement, not a question. I nodded, unable to form words yet. Just breathing was hard enough.

Emma opened her bottle of water and passed it to me. I didn't drink but gripped it tightly between both hands. Patiently, she waited for me to recover. It took longer than I hoped to get over the initial shock.

Still battling the urge to vomit, I cleared my throat. "They're our ally. They're allied with all the regional packs." Were, I thought. They were our ally.

"This is why you came here, isn't it?" Emma was back in her chair now, gazing at me thoughtfully across the desk.

"Yes," I said quietly.

She nodded. "Go on."

I squeezed my hands tighter around the water bottle. "I was sent here to find out how the blades were getting to the rogues by my original pack. The trade—that part was true. But I returned to my home pack when the Alpha asked for my help. They've been attacked. So has my second pack. I saw one of the wolves after he was killed."

She watched me steadily. There was no judgement, no mistrust in her eyes. Only patience.

"You can't keep working with them," I insisted. I wanted to beg. "If they've turned on all of us, they'll do the same to you. I'll see to it that you're protected and taken care of. I'll make sure of it."

"I should've listened to Peters," she sighed, sitting back.

"I know they didn't leave you much of a choice," I said, "but I'm giving you one now. This community you've built, the people here...you deserve better."

Emma and I sat together in silence for a long time, both lost inside our own heads. Eventually, as evening began to fall outside the windows and the shadows in her office grew long, she stood.

"Let's go on home and find something to eat." She pulled on her coat and fitted her hat down snugly over her ears. "I think we could both use a drink, too."

I looked up at her, unable to hide my surprise. "You're not sending me away?"

"I would have done the same for my people. I just hope that what you've seen here has shown you that we're not your enemy."

Relief washed over me, calming and warm, steadying the tremors that had beset my body since the conversation began. I reached out quickly and clasped her hand in one of mine, hoping that I could wordlessly convey what I felt in that moment. By the comforting half-smile she gave me, I think I had.

"You could stay, you know." We were sitting back in Emma's kitchen. She'd made us dinner, but I was only able to take a few bites that I knew were not likely to stay down. We each had a glass of a strong, clear alcohol in front of us that set my sinuses on fire when I raised the glass to my lips. She said the grocer distilled it in his stockroom.

When I looked at her, I could find nothing but kindness in her eyes. She meant it. Despite everything, she would have accepted me as a member of the community without even a second thought. Every part of me wanted to accept the offer. Almost every part.

"Life is...simple here," she said. "It isn't easy, and it's not always fun, but it's simple."

I missed simple. Simple was what I had with Jack; it was what my life had been a little over a year ago, before Gabriel had ever set foot in the clinic. Now, here was my chance to have that again. I could be content in Trout Creek.

"For what it's worth, I think you'd fit in here well." She ended her appeal and took another sip.

"I think I would, too," I admitted. I pictured myself in one of the little log cabins, walking into town with my own shovel to help after the next blizzard, maybe working at the clinic. The thought of using human medicine for treatments again tugged at the broken pieces of my heart. In Trout Creek, the weight of responsibility and the complexities of my life with Gabriel seemed so distant, replaced by the allure of something much more idyllic.

But I knew couldn't ignore my intuition that was guiding my thoughts toward a deeper calling: the path that was intrinsically linked with Gabriel's, intertwined whether we acknowledged that or not.

A simple life wouldn't bring me any true fulfillment. It would be a façade: beautiful, peaceful, but unrealistic. It was the same life I'd had with Jack, the same one I'd chosen to leave behind once before when the unbridled emotions that Gabriel set alight in me pulled me back from the precipice of comfort.

"I appreciate your offer, Emma." I spoke softly, my voice carrying the weight of conflicting emotions. "I wish that I could accept it."