How to Kill a Rat.

Keon's POV:

The scraping of Sabrina’s heavy chair against the stone floor grates in an unsettling, metallic way, slicing clean through the suffocating tension in the room. She moves, her steps silent and fluid, completely at odds with the violent composure she carries.

I turn my head slightly to track her. There is something dark and volatile shifting in her eyes, an ocean of controlled fury. If I weren't the reigning Alpha, if I didn't have royal blood running hot through my veins, I might have lowered my head from the sheer, crushing wave of power radiating off her.

She steps up the dais toward the Delta, stopping a precise half-foot behind my left shoulder. Even in the depths of her silent rage, her ingrained respect for the hierarchy stands firm. She doesn't breach my space, but her presence fills every inch of the hall.

"So..." Sabrina’s voice breaks the quiet, clear and razor-sharp. "What you're trying to say is that you were targeted and manipulated to systemically weaken this kingdom's defenses for well over a month."

The Delta, trembling, swallows hard. "My Gam—"

"Silence." The word drops like a executioner's blade.

"And you admit to deliberate conspiracy involving members of the Royal Council, the Crown Prince, and his mate?"

Every single head in the chamber snaps in Sabrina's direction. The room holds its collective breath. In the far corner, an elder councilor opens his mouth, clearly intending to douse the fire burning in her eyes before it consumes the room. His intervention only feeds the flames.

"Royal Gamma Sabrina—" the elder begins, his voice laced with still caution.

She completely ignores him, her tone rising over his attempt to speak until his words wither and die out entirely. "And you admit to the systematic dismantling of our borders."

She takes half a step closer to the trembling man. "As well as the attempted assassination of the Gamma."

She pauses, turning her head toward me, though her gaze remains lethal.

"Last I checked, those acts violate the core tenets of our Code of Conduct, the Kingdom Charters, and the High Canons," she says, her voice echoing off the vaulted stone ceiling. "Several of these infractions include counts of attempted murder, treason, and conspiracy against the crown. For all of which, the statutory penalty is death."

She holds my gaze, her expression unreadable. "Or am I mistaken, Alpha? Correct me if I am."

All eyes instantly shift from Sabrina to me. The heavy silence of the council chamber suddenly weighs a thousand pounds.

I deeply dislike the corner Sabrina has just backed me into. A former serving official from my father's reign stands before us guilty of severe high treason, even if he acted under threat or physical compulsion. The law is absolute; the charges carry an immediate death sentence. If I side with Sabrina right now, the man dies on the spot, taking potential leads to his grave for crimes he was forced to commit. But if I publicly contradict her and side with the Delta, I shatter the image of our leadership. It projects a fatal lack of unity to a council already teeming with potential traitors.

Our eyes lock. What exactly is playing out in that head of yours, Sabrina?

I force my posture to remain rigid, suppressing the deep sigh clawing at my chest. "You are correct."

Sabrina smiles. It isn't a warm or pleasant expression; it’s the kind that bare her sharp canines, reminding every noble in this room precisely why she holds the title of Gamma. She bows her head a fraction of an inch.

"Thank you, my Alpha."

She turns her full attention back to the Delta, whose terror is practically a physical stench in the room.

"If I were to strictly execute the law following our Alpha's confirmation," she says, her tone almost conversational, "I should end your life right here."

"Please—" the man chokes out, pressing himself back into his seat.

"But I won't," she interrupts smoothy. "Consider it an act of extreme mercy. However, you have approximately sixty seconds to provide actionable intelligence. Give me a name, a title, or a location for the individual you claimed assisted you with those "routine inspection checks."

The old man’s composure completely breaks. Words spill from his lips in a desperate, rushed torrent. "Wilhelm! The apothecary downtown. He-the shop right next to the mercenary downtown! It’s the same street where I picked up the first anonymous note. He’s the one who procured the toxins. He was forced into it, too! He told me—"

"That's enough," Sabrina cuts in.

She approaches him with slow, deliberate steps. The Delta flinches, attempting to shrink back against the wood of his chair, but she reaches out and grabs him firmly by the shoulder.

His dislocated shoulder.

Just like with Derrick, the entire chamber falls dead silent. A second later, a harsh gasp tears from the man's throat, followed by a muffled groan of pain.

Sabrina leans down, whispering something directly into his ear so softly that even my advanced Alpha hearing barely catches the tail end of it. Before anyone can react, she releases him, and the man slumps back into his chair, panting heavily.

She hadn't hurt him. She had just popped his joint back into place.

Sabrina’s voice echoes clearly in my head.

"Thank you for your cooperation Alpha, There’s our next solid lead. Derrick and I will head downtown immediately to secure Wilhelm before whoever is pulling the strings realizes the Delta talked. You and Rowan can stay behind to handle the confidentials of the investigation, but dismiss this Council immediately. They’ve seen far too much already. The fewer lips that know what’s happening, the fewer loose ends can be leaked to the public. And before you tell us to rest, don't bother. As of this moment, we are two of the very few people left in this castle you can genuinely trust. Completely, at least. Expect us back within the hour."

I offer her a subtle, firm nod. Everything she said is dead accurate.

Sabrina turns toward Derrick and gives him a quick smile. It lacks the predatory edge she used on the council, and I'm beginning to notice both of them share an unsettling thing for dramatic character breaks.

"Come on, Crown Prince," she says, gesturing toward the heavy iron doors. "We have another rat to catch."

Derrick chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and stepping past me. As our eyes meet, he tilts his head in a brief, respectful bow. She pulls down on the torch, the heavy mechanics grind, and the stone slabs sliding open smoothly. The cool breeze carries their usual banter before the doors slide shut, sealing the council chamber once more.

I turn my attention back to the remaining members of the Council, letting my energy pulse gently through the room to command absolute authority.

"The rest of you are dismissed," I announce, my voice echoing off the walls. "We will reconvene in precisely one hour when they return with Wilhelm. In the meantime, maintain standard protocol. Keep a sharp eye on your respective sectors of the castle. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, no matter how insignificant it seems, mindlink myself or Rowan immediately. Do not make a scene. Act as though this session was nothing more than routine business. Am I understood?"

A unified chorus of "Yes, Alpha" and "Understood, Your Grace" ripples through the gathered ranks.

"Good. Dismissed. Long live the Throne of Stonefield."

They repeat the traditional chant in unison, bowed heads retreating one by one until the heavy doors lock shut a final time.

When the room settles and only Rowan, the bound Delta, and I remain, the silence feels heavier than the noise. I sink slightly back against the dais, more exhausted than when this morning began, despite knowing this is only the warm-up.