Chapter 25 – Web of Lies

(Sasha’s POV)

The pack-house hummed with the usual chaos of morning activities, boots clattering down the stairs, laughter and arguments spilling through the halls, the sharp scent of bacon wafting from the kitchen. Sasha walked through it like a queen surveying her kingdom, her head held high, her lips curved in a poised, practiced smile. Wolves dipped their heads in greeting, some bowing lower than necessary, eager for her approval.

She rewarded them with a cool nod, her heart thrumming with satisfaction. This was how it‘s supposed to be. Her at the center, her at the crown, her steps carving the path that the pack followed. Not Ella. Never should it be Ella.

And yet, the whispers were beginning. She heard them at the corners of conversations, they were questions about fate, about the human girl who bore the mate bond with Cole. Small murmurs now, but murmurs had a way of growing, of solidifying into loyalty if not smothered.

Sasha would not let them grow.

She started with her inner circle.

“Ella’s weak,” she said that afternoon, her voice sharp as she lounged on the porch steps with three pack mates—Lana, Tori, and Reese—her loyal shadows. “Cole may be tied to her, but ties can be broken. What will happen when she fails him in public? When she can’t even stand beside him in a fight?”

Tori scoffed, braiding her dark hair tighter. “She couldn’t even hold her own against a pup.”

Reese smirked. “Marcus tries to shelter her. Without him, she’d crumble.”

“Exactly.” Sasha leaned back, her tone deliberate, weaving her words like silk. “What the pack deserves is someone who is strong, who can stand beside Cole in times needed. We need a Luna who understands our world, who was born for it. Not some outsider who will only drag us down.”

The agreement in their eyes was fuel, but Sasha knew better than to end it there. Her words needed to seep beyond her loyal circle, they need to spread across like poison until they colored the perception of the entire pack.

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, ensuring their ears strained closer. “And Cole is already aware of this. He may refuse to say it yet, but he feels it. That’s why he’s become restless. That’s why he still comes to me.”

The way Lana’s brows shot up was delicious. A rumor was already planted. A seed sown and soon it would bloom.

That evening, Sasha slipped into Cole’s cabin without knocking. He was at the table, half a glass of whiskey beside him, his hair mussed from running his hands through it one too many times.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, not looking up.

“Then why don’t you tell me to leave?” Sasha countered smoothly, sliding into the chair opposite him. She rested her chin on her hand, studying him with a smile that was half challenge, half promise.

His silence was answer enough.

“You’re unraveling,” she said softly, her voice gentle now, coaxing. “I see it in your eyes, Cole. You hate being trapped. You hate being forced into something you never chose or wanted.”

His jaw clenched, but still, he didn’t push her away.

“You and I—we’ve always chosen each other,” Sasha continued, lowering her voice until it was nearly a whisper. “Don’t let fate steal that away.”

He looked at her then, storm brewing in his eyes, but she saw it: the flicker of longing, the crack in his armor. And she pressed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said, reaching across the table to brush her fingers over his hand, “We will both find a way, but until then I will wait patiently because you are mine Cole and you will always be mine. Only.”

For a heartbeat, his hand didn’t move. Then he pulled it back, roughly, his voice sounding harsh. “Just go home, Sasha.”

But he hadn’t said no.

And for now that was enough.

Back in her room, Sasha spread her notebook open, ink staining her fingertips as she scribbled late into the night. Each line was a plan, a manipulation, a possibility. He had listed out options. Options to take Ella out of the picture

Option one: sabotage Ella’s training, make her look incompetent before the pack.

Option two: feed whispers of infidelity, hint at Ella’s “fragile human heart” being drawn elsewhere, perhaps to Jasper with his protective streak.

Option three: strike harder and faster—manufacture a scandal so grave that even Victor won’t be able to ignore it.

Sasha’s pulse quickened as she wrote, her mind buzzing with different possibilities. She tapped the pen against her lip, savoring the image of Ella’s fall, Cole’s freedom, and her rightful rise to her place beside him.

But for all her confidence, a tiny thread of unease still tugged at her. Recently, she had seen something shift in Ella. She no longer cowered quite as easily, as she had before. Now she has begin to carry herself with a steadier spine, answered Sasha with words that weren’t trembling with apologies but with quiet defiance.

It gnawed so much at Sasha, more than she would like to admit.

Because strength, once kindled, had a way of spreading.

And if Ella found hers too soon

Forcing the thought away, Sasha shut the notebook with a snap. No. She would not allow it. Ella’s spark would be extinguished before it becomes a flame.

She crossed to the mirror, staring at her reflection—the gleam of her hair, the sharp line of her cheekbones, the fire in her eyes.

“You are the Luna,” she whispered to herself, her voice hard, certain. “Not Ella. Never her.”

If it took burning down the entire pack to prove this, then she is willing to do that.