Chapter 18: The Rumor That Came Back to Hurt Me

We returned from Frosthaven to a rumor waiting at Ashvale.

This one was worse than the photograph.

By second period, someone had claimed I was transferring to Silvercrest because Rowan’s family had promised my parents money.

By lunch, the story had grown.

Apparently Alpha Darius had arranged my strategy fellowship.

Apparently Rowan had manipulated the regional trials.

Apparently I had reported Amber to eliminate a rival strategist.

It was almost impressive how efficiently nonsense reproduced.

Maya slammed her tray onto the cafeteria table.

“I want names.”

“No.”

“I want one name.”

“No.”

“Half a name?”

I laughed despite my irritation.

“Sit down.”

She sat.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Yes.”

“You’re being weirdly calm.”

“I’ve had practice.”

That was true.

The first rumor had made me feel exposed.

This one made me angry, but not ashamed.

I knew how I had earned the fellowship.

So did Commander Sloane.

So did Ms. Hale.

Still, rumors could damage reputations if left unanswered.

I documented everything and sent it to the academy.

Then I went to class.

The real problem appeared after school.

Commander Sloane was waiting outside the strategy room.

“Vale.”

My stomach dropped.

“Commander.”

“Walk.”

We headed toward Ironwood Hall.

She didn’t speak until we were inside Tactical Command.

“Did Alpha Blackwood contact anyone regarding your fellowship?”

“No.”

“Did Rowan?”

“No.”

“Did your parents?”

“No.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

I blinked.

“Then why ask?”

“Because I wanted to hear your answer before I tell you the council received a formal complaint.”

My stomach tightened.

“From who?”

“Anonymous.”

Of course.

“The complaint claims your relationship with the Silvercrest heir creates a conflict of interest in interpack strategy training.”

That was at least more intelligent than the money rumor.

“Does it?”

“Potentially.”

I stared.

Commander Sloane folded her arms.

“You want command someday, you learn this now. Being innocent of corruption does not mean conflicts cannot exist.”

“What do I do?”

“Disclose. Document. Recuse when necessary.”

She handed me a form.

“You’ll formally disclose the mate bond. You will not access classified Ironwood intelligence involving Silvercrest. If a simulation uses Silvercrest-specific security information, another fellow handles it.”

“That’s fair.”

“Yes.”

She studied me.

“You expected me to defend you emotionally?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m not your mother.”

“Clearly.”

Her mouth almost twitched.

“Good. Fill it out.”

I did.

By evening, the rumor had reached my parents.

Dad was furious.

Mom was calmer.

Rowan was the angriest.

“This is because of me.”

We were on video call.

“No. It’s because people like gossip.”

“If we weren’t mates—”

“I would still have earned the fellowship.”

“I know.”

“Then don’t talk like you’re a stain on my record.”

He went quiet.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“I know. But I refuse to start treating our relationship like something shameful because anonymous people are bored.”

Rowan leaned back.

“You’re terrifying.”

“Commander Sloane is influencing me.”

“I should send her flowers.”

“She’d use them as tactical obstacles.”

The next day, the academy announced that the complaint had been reviewed and no misconduct found.

I thought that would end it.

It didn’t.

Someone printed copies of an old photograph and taped them inside lockers.

Me at age thirteen, clinging to Cole’s arm at a pack picnic.

Across the top:

*TRUE MATE? SHE CHANGES MEN FASTER THAN PACKS.*

I stared at the paper.

This time, pain hit.

Not because the accusation was true.

Because the photograph was private.

Mom had taken it.

Only a few people had copies.

Cole.

The Mercers.

My family.

Echo growled.

Maya ripped the paper down.

“Who had this?”

“I know who might.”

I found Cole outside behavioral training.

He saw my face.

“What happened?”

I held up the photograph.

Color drained from his skin.

“Where did you get that?”

“My locker.”

He took the paper.

His hands shook.

“I didn’t give this to anyone.”

“Who has it?”

“My mom. Your parents. Me.”

“Anyone else?”

Cole stared at the picture.

Then his expression changed.

“My old phone.”

“What?”

“I gave it to Gavin last month.”

“Why?”

“His broke. I wiped mine.”

“Are you sure?”

He went pale.

“I thought I did.”

We found Gavin at basketball practice.

Cole walked straight onto the court.

I followed.

“Did my old phone still have photos on it?”

Gavin froze.

That was answer enough.

“Dude—”

“Did it?”

“A few.”

“Did you send this?”

Cole held up the paper.

Gavin’s face tightened.

“It was a joke.”

My blood went cold.

Of course.

Always a joke.

Cole’s wolf flashed.

For one terrifying second, his scent sharpened exactly like the day he hit me.

Pine.

Aggression.

Dominance.

Echo recoiled.

Cole raised his fist.

Then stopped.

His whole body shook.

Gavin stepped back.

Cole closed his eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his hand.

The gym was silent.

He breathed once.

Twice.

Then he looked at the coach.

“I need Dean Keller.”

I stared at him.

That moment mattered.

Not because Gavin deserved protection from consequences.

Because Cole had finally learned that consequences did not have to come from his fists.

Dean Keller confiscated the phone.

Gavin admitted he had shared the photograph in a private chat.

He denied starting the corruption rumor.

The academy investigation found something else.

The anonymous complaint had come from an adult account.

Amber’s father.

When I heard, I wasn’t surprised.

Amber was.

She found me after school.

“I didn’t know.”

“I believe you.”

“My dad thinks you ruined my reputation.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.”

Her eyes were red.

“He thinks if you hadn’t made a big deal out of everything, I’d still be in the regional rankings.”

I sighed.

“Amber, you don’t have to apologize for your father.”

“I know.”

She looked toward the parking lot where he waited.

“I told him I’m staying in Ironwood after graduation.”

I blinked.

“I thought your family planned to return to Redcliff.”

“They do.”

“But you?”

“I got accepted into the junior guard program here.”

A reluctant smile appeared.

“I want to earn my way back.”

I understood that.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She hesitated.

“Can I ask something?”

“Okay.”

“Why did you forgive Cole?”

The question surprised me.

“I forgave what happened. I didn’t restore the relationship.”

“But how?”

I thought about it.

“Because staying angry started feeling like another way he occupied my life.”

Amber looked down.

“I think you still hate me.”

“Sometimes.”

She winced.

I continued.

“But less than before.”

“That’s brutally honest.”

“You used to say you liked bluntness.”

For a second, she stared.

Then she laughed.

A real laugh.

I did too.

We were definitely not friends.

But maybe enemies did not have to be permanent either.

That evening, Cole knocked on our door.

Once.

Not pounding.

Mom opened it.

He remained in the hallway.

“Aurora?”

I came over.

He held a small storage drive.

“I went through everything.”

“What?”

“Every photo of you on my devices.”

My chest tightened.

“I put them here.”

He held out the drive.

“I deleted my copies.”

I stared at him.

“You didn’t have to delete childhood photos.”

“I know.”

“Why did you?”

“Because they’re yours too.”

He swallowed.

“And after Gavin, I realized I was keeping hundreds of pictures of someone who asked me to stay out of her life.”

That hurt in a strange, quiet way.

“You can keep normal memories, Cole.”

He looked surprised.

“I can?”

“Yes.”

I took the drive.

“Just don’t give your phone to idiots.”

His mouth twitched.

“Fair.”

Then I asked the question that had been sitting in my mind.

“In the gym, were you going to hit him?”

Cole looked down.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“My control instructor says the moment before losing control is still a choice.”

He rubbed his knuckles.

“I heard your voice.”

“My voice?”

“The day I hit you.”

His face tightened.

“‘Go to hell.’”

I went still.

“I remembered your face afterward.”

He met my eyes.

“I never want to see that look because of me again.”

For the first time, I felt something close to pride in him.

Not romantic love.

Not longing.

Pride for someone I had once known better than anyone.

“That was a good choice.”

Cole nodded.

“Thanks.”

He left.

I closed the door.

Later, I told Rowan everything.

He was quiet.

Then he said, “I respect him for stopping.”

“So do I.”

No jealousy.

No resentment that I could acknowledge something good in Cole.

Rowan understood that moving forward did not require rewriting the past into pure evil.

Before bed, I opened the storage drive.

Thousands of photographs.

Cole and me at four.

At seven.

At twelve.

Birthdays.

School trips.

Pack festivals.

I expected to cry.

Instead, I smiled at some.

Cringed at others.

Then I created a folder called CHILDHOOD and saved a handful.

I deleted the rest.

Not because the memories were poisoned.

Because I didn’t need every version of myself preserved.

Some girls belonged to the past.

The girl clinging to Cole’s arm in the picnic photograph had believed being chosen by him would complete her future.

I didn’t hate her.

I wanted to hug her.

Then tell her something she would not have understood yet.

One day, she would stop asking whether she was enough for someone else.

And discover she had been enough for herself all along.