Chapter 34 Elara
ELARA
Elara left the cover of the overturned table with her phone already recording. Her hands shook, but her journalist's instincts had kicked in the moment she'd seen the cameraman.
She recognized him. Not personally, but the type. Professional grade equipment, tactical vest, the steady hands of someone who'd filmed in war zones. This wasn't amateur hour.
And she recognized the lead hunter too. The same one who'd cornered her in the woods, who'd demanded she lead them through the Veil. The one who'd called her by name.
They'd come here because of her. Her articles. Her breadcrumbs.
Time to own it.
"You wanted me to show you the door," she called, walking toward them with deliberate confidence she didn't feel. "Here I am. Let's talk."
The cameraman's lens swung toward her. Behind him, the lead hunter's expression shifted from rage to calculation.
"Miss Jameston." His voice carried through the storm. "Good of you to join us."
"You've been following me for months," Elara said, keeping her phone steady, recording everything. "Using my research to track this place. So let's skip the pretense. What do you actually want?"
"You know what we want. Proof."
"You have it." She gestured to the wolves circling at a distance, to the shifters in human form protecting their neighbors. "You've got your footage. Your evidence. Congratulations. Now what?"
The question seemed to catch them off guard.
"Now we show the world," the cameraman said.
"And then what?" Elara stepped closer, her voice hardening. "You release this footage. It goes viral. Every news outlet picks it up. And then what happens to these people?"
"They're not people—"
"They're more human than you are right now." She cut him off. "You tracked me here. You used my work without permission. You tried to kidnap me in the woods to force me to lead you past their protections. And when that didn't work, you attacked a community celebration."
She turned her phone toward the hunters. "I'm documenting too. Armed men opening fire on civilians. Children running for their lives. You firing first. All of it on record."
The lead hunter's jaw tightened. "You led us here. Your articles—"
"Were about folklore and patterns. Not a hit list." Elara's throat tightened, but she pushed through. "I never meant for this to happen. I didn't know what I was pointing you toward. But I know now."
She looked back at the square. At Twyla comforting a frightened child. At Diana helping an elderly woman to safety. At Alaric's wolf form, steel-gray and powerful, standing between the hunters and his people.
"I was wrong," she said quietly. "I spent three years chasing proof that there was more to the world than what we could see.
And I found it. But the story isn't about monsters hiding in the mountains.
" She turned back to the hunters. "It's about people trying to survive in a world that would kill them if it knew what they were. "
"They're dangerous," one of the hunters said.
"You're the ones with guns." Elara's voice went flat. "You're the ones who attacked first. Who followed a woman through a blizzard. Who tried to force her to betray people who'd shown her nothing but hospitality."
The cameraman lowered his equipment slightly. "You're protecting them."
"I'm choosing them." The words came out steady, certain. "Over my career. Over the story. Over everything I thought I wanted." She held up her phone. "And I'm recording you threatening them. Hunting them. Trying to expose them to a world that won't understand.”
"The world deserves to know the truth," the cameraman said.
"The truth is complicated." Elara took another step forward, putting herself between the hunters and the town.
"Yes, they're shifters. Yes, they have abilities humans don't. But they're not hurting anyone.
They're bakers and librarians and inn owners.
They're parents and children and people trying to live. "
"You were supposed to help us," the lead hunter said, something almost like betrayal in his voice. "Your articles, they validated everything our families have been saying for generations. You gave us the map."
"I gave you stories." Elara's chest tightened with guilt she'd been carrying since the woods. "I didn't know what you'd do with them. I didn't know what was real." She met his eyes. "But I know now. And I'm telling you, begging you, to walk away."
"Why would we do that?"
"Because if you release that footage, I release mine.
And I'll make sure every outlet, every authority, every human rights organization sees exactly what you did here.
Armed assault. Attempted kidnapping. Domestic terrorism.
" Her voice dropped. "I'll bury you in legal action and public opinion. And unlike you, I actually know how journalism works while making their town stay secret and you looking like dangerous lunatics. They’ll think you CGI’d yours once my word goes out. A known journalist against a cult."
“We aren’t–”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said curtly, cutting one off. “That’s what they’ll think of you and worse, once this gets out.”
The silence stretched. Around them, the shifters held their positions, waiting.
"You're choosing them over your own kind," one hunter said.
"No." Elara looked back at the town, at the people watching from doorways, at Alaric's wolf form tracking her every movement. "I'm choosing humanity. Real humanity. Not the kind that hunts and kills because of fear and old grudges."
She turned back to the hunters. "I was looking for a story. I found a home instead. I found people worth protecting. And if you think I'm going to let you destroy that for some vindication of your family myths, you don't know me at all."
The cameraman and the lead hunter exchanged a look. She could see the calculation happening. The risk versus reward.
"This isn't over," the lead hunter finally said.
"Yes, it is." Elara's voice was steel. "Because I'm not the naive journalist anymore. I know what's at stake. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect them."
The cameraman lowered his equipment completely. "She's right. We got what we came for. But using it means exposing ourselves too."
"What?"
"Look at the footage. We fired first. We chased her. We attacked during a celebration." He started backing toward the edge of the square. "That's not the story we can sell."
The hunters hesitated, then slowly began to retreat. One by one, they backed toward the tree line, weapons lowering.
Elara kept her phone up, kept recording until they disappeared into the darkness. Her whole body shook with adrenaline and relief and the weight of what she'd just done.
She'd chosen. Finally, completely chosen.
Movement exploded from the shadows.
A hunter—one they'd missed in the chaos—burst from between buildings. Not one of the main group. Younger, with wild eyes and a silver knife.
He'd been hiding. Waiting.
"Traitor!" he screamed, charging straight at her.
Elara registered three things in the space of a heartbeat:
The knife was aimed at her heart.
The hunter's face was twisted with rage and betrayal.
And Alaric was too far away to reach her in time.