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CHAPTER THIRTEEN – The Wolf Pact
They called it the House of Wolves—
a secret society older than Crestwood itself.
Untraceable.
Untouchable.
And very, very real.
Emily Hale was never supposed to find it.
But Crestwood had made one mistake:
They underestimated the girl with nothing left to lose.
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Three days after her expulsion, Emily received a black envelope sealed with silver wax.
No return address.
No signature.
Just four words handwritten inside:
> "You want revenge? Come hungry."
Attached was a GPS location.
A forgotten manor just beyond the woods behind the campus—where secrets went to fester.
She went alone.
Of course she did.
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The manor was draped in ivy and whispers. Inside, candles burned low, casting flickers of light on stone walls. Dozens of students stood masked, wearing black rings with a wolf's head carved into them.
And at the front—
Tessa Hale.
Unmasked. Unafraid.
Queen of shadows.
"You came," she said, sipping blood-red wine. "I told them you would."
Emily crossed her arms. "What the hell is this?"
"Power," Tessa purred. "The kind you'll need if you plan to take down my father for good."
Emily scoffed. "You hate me."
"I hate weakness more."
She stepped closer.
"You want to make them pay? Then stop playing fair. Join us."
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Emily hesitated.
"I don't trust you."
Tessa smirked. "Good. That's the first rule of survival."
Behind them, the crowd watched in silence. Hungry.
"Make your choice, Hale," Tessa said. "With us, or against us."
Emily looked at the ring offered to her.
She thought of Luke.
Of what she'd already lost.
Of what she still could lose.
And then?
She slipped the ring on.
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Back in the city, Luke was hunted.
Not by classmates. Not by gossip.
By men in suits who answered to no law but legacy.
His father had disowned him publicly.
His mother had fled the spotlight.
He was no longer the crown prince.
He was prey.
They came for him that night.
Two black SUVs. No license plates.
He ran through alleyways like a ghost—until someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into an underground tunnel.
"Jesus, Hale," said a voice. "You're as reckless as your girl."
It was Noah, the rebel coder who'd leaked the first documents.
"What are you doing here?" Luke asked.
"Saving your ass," Noah muttered. "Emily's burning down the old world. But she's gonna need a king if she plans to build a new one."
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Meanwhile, Emily stood in the circle of the Wolves.
She was given her first test.
A sealed file.
A name.
> "Someone close to you is feeding intel to the board.
Expose them.
Or the pact will do it for you."
Emily opened the folder.
And her heart stopped.
It was her roommate.
Chloe.
The sweet, awkward girl who always said she hated conflict.
Who brought her coffee every morning.
Who claimed she was "just here for the classes."
There, in black and white—
Chloe had been sending Emily's movements, conversations, and photos straight to Margot Hale's office.
Emily's fists trembled.
Tessa watched her.
"Still think the truth sets you free?" she asked softly.
Emily slammed the folder shut.
"No. But it gives me a reason to fight."
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Later that night, Luke found her in the manor. Rain soaked his shirt, his knuckles were bruised, but his eyes lit up when he saw her.
"Are you okay?" they asked in unison.
She laughed, broken and breathless, and ran into his arms.
Their kiss was desperate—like a promise.
Their bodies pressed close, like a secret.
His fingers tangled in her hair. Her nails bit into his back.
The Wolves watched from the shadows, unblinking.
Tessa turned away.
"You sure she's not going to choose love over the pact?" one asked her.
Tessa lit another cigarette.
"If she does," she said, "then she deserves to fall."
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