Page 25 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

TWENTY-FIVE

AVA

A va didn’t mean to overhear it.

She wasn’t the type to snoop, not anymore, not after everything. But the hallway outside the war room was narrow and echo-prone, and the door hadn’t been fully shut. She’d only stepped around the corner to snag a report one of the scouts dropped. Then she heard his name.

Roman.

Her breath caught hard in her throat.

Two guards inside spoke in hushed voices—too hushed to be casual.

“…they moved him again. Third location since the last intel breach.”

“Guess they’re worried someone’s still loyal.”

“Or scared of what happens if the pack finds out he’s not dead.”

Ava didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She stepped back before she was seen, the faded metal of the door cool under her fingers, the hallway dim with slanted sunlight from the window above.

Outside, voices filtered in from the training grounds—Caz barking orders, pups running drills.

The court, as always, moved on like nothing ever cracked its core.

Roman was alive.

Alive.

Silas had told her, back when they first met, that he’d heard rumors. Just whispers in the dark. Now it wasn’t a rumor. It was fact. Landon knew. Sonya probably knew. And no one had told her.

Not even Silas.

Maybe he didn’t know it was truth either. Maybe.

Or maybe he did, and like everything else they all thought was for her own good, he’d decided she couldn’t handle it.

Her hands curled into fists. She could handle it.

The part she couldn’t handle—the part burrowed deep in her gut and twisted like barbed wire—was what else it meant. If Roman was alive, then he hadn’t died in some noble end-of-war downfall like the stories spun. He’d been captured.

Which meant someone had kept him hidden.

Which meant he might know things. About her father. About what really happened the night he vanished.

She leaned her back against the cold stone and forced her breath to even out. She couldn’t tell Silas. Not yet. He’d lose it. He’d leave the court, burn half the damn map down, and storm whatever hole they were keeping Roman in until the bastard’s heart stopped beating.

And maybe he’d be right to.

But Ava couldn’t do that. Not until she knew the truth.

She pushed away from the wall and headed toward the greenhouse where she knew Silas would be. He liked the quiet there after debriefs. She needed to look at him, talk to him about something normal, remind herself that the world hadn’t just shifted again under her boots.

He was there, crouched near the climbing vines, hand brushing through the herbs Sonya had planted. He didn’t turn at her footsteps. Just said, “You good?”

“Yeah,” she lied, clearing her throat. “Just tired.”

He glanced over. His grey eyes narrowed. “You don’t look tired. You look… haunted.”

Ava forced a smirk. “Thanks for that glowing compliment.”

Silas stood. Closed the distance. He brushed her knuckles with his thumb before tucking his hand into hers. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I’m just overthinking everything. War, the alliance, what my role even is in all of this.”

“You’re not just a piece on the board, Ava.”

“I know that. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like one.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You don’t have to carry everything.”

But she did. Especially now.

She looked at him and forced herself to focus on the warmth in his eyes, the way his presence always steadied her like gravity. He was her constant in a life full of landmines.

He stepped closer, pressing his forehead lightly to hers. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.” Her voice barely made it out.

They stood there a while, no more words exchanged. Just shared silence and the pulse of something stronger than either of them knew how to name.

She didn’t tell him.

Not that night. Not even the next.

But the secret pressed against her ribs like a blade she couldn’t sheath.

Because if Roman knew what happened to her father, then Ava needed to be the one to face him. Not for vengeance. Not even for closure.

For truth.

And maybe for something she hadn’t dared hope for in years.

That he wasn’t dead.

That the father she remembered—half shadow, half myth—might still be out there. Waiting. Watching. Regretting.

If that was true, Ava would find him.

No matter what it cost.