Chapter 28

ALPHA TRISTAN 

The next few days after Sara worked her peculiar, ancient magic on me were a profound relief. I was truly happy to be alive when the full moon finally crested over the peaks of the Twilight Zone; against all odds and the grim predictions of my healers, I was not consumed by the wolfsbane infection. With my health gradually being restored to its former glory, it was time to pick up the broken pieces of my leadership and resume where I had so abruptly left off.

The black rot was gone from my flesh, but the chilling memory of its cold, parasitic grip remained lodged in my marrow, a reminder of how close I had come to the abyss. However, as the strength returned to my limbs, a nagging concern—a genuine fear—began to fester in my mind. Consequently, I called for an emergency meeting of my high council now that I was no longer hovering at death’s door.

I sat at the head of the long, polished oak council table, my body humming with a primal vitality I hadn't felt in weeks. Sara Lockwood had done more than simply save my life; she had, in essence, restored my crown. Yet, she was the very reason I had summoned this meeting. Sooner or later, Alpha Rune’s relentless spies would discover that she was here, hidden within the heart of our territory.

I looked around at my inner circle, gauging their loyalty and their exhaustion. There was Yvonne, her eyes sharp, predatory, and filled with a simmering resentment; Kaelen, our lead tracker, who looked as though he hadn't slept in days; Vane and Jaxon, my two most ruthless military commanders; and Elder Yamal, the man who held the sacred histories and laws of our pack.

Harlan had pointedly declined to attend, sending a flimsy excuse about being "under the weather." I knew the truth, however: he was nursing a deep-seated anger for the harsh way I had treated him during the crisis, even though I maintained that he had brought much of it upon himself. I would eventually need to find a way to placate him; a disgruntled soldier of his caliber was a liability I couldn't afford.

"The Conqueror is at our gates in spirit, if not yet in the flesh," I began, my voice projecting with a strength that made the candle flames flicker against the stone walls. "Alpha Rune’s spies are thick in the city. He likely knows she was brought here. He likely knows we lied to his face. We cannot hide a girl like Sara in a servant’s room forever. Eventually, a shadow will glimpse a blue dress through a window, and the full might of the Crescent Moon will descend upon us to reclaim her."

This was the brutal reality I had battled with ever since she healed me. As much as I had technically rewarded her for saving my life by moving her out of the dungeon, I had not truly forgiven her for the death of Claudia. I would never forgive her for taking the light of my life. The only problem was that I couldn't act on my vengeance right now without drawing the attention of Rune's spies and inviting total war.

"This is an incredibly difficult situation, Alpha," Jaxon spoke up, finally breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. "Do we have a confirmed count of his spies within our walls?"

"We have been able to identify five of them definitively, but our intelligence suggests there could be a dozen more hidden in the lower districts," Kaelen answered, his voice grim.

"If we knew the identity of every single one of them, I would have suggested we take them out tonight," Jaxon suggested, his hand straying to the hilt of his blade. I shook my head slowly.

"Alpha Rune would know immediately," Vane spoke up before I could intervene. "He would simply send a new wave of spies that would be even more difficult for us to root out. Worse, it would stir his suspicion to a boiling point. Killing his eyes is a way of screaming that we are hiding the girl and are desperate for him to stop looking."

The room descended into a contemplative silence once more until Yvonne spoke up, leaning forward into the light of the chandelier. She looked weary, her jealousy over Sara’s presence in the upper floors barely veiled.

"Well, we could always use the rat," she said matter-of-factly.

"I’m not entirely sure I follow your meaning, Yvonne," Elder Yamal spoke softly, his brow furrowed.

"Khalid," she clarified. "The alchemist who originally sold us the news of Rune’s progress. If he is willing to betray the Conqueror for a fleeting kiss and a secret, he is surely willing to do more for a chest of gold."

"Hold on, back up a moment. A kiss?" I asked, squinting at her until the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.

"That was the specific payment he required to divulge Alpha Rune’s initial plans. It was... unconventional, but his information proved to be true. We could use him to feed the Conqueror exactly what we want him to hear," Yvonne suggested.

"And what exactly do we have him tell him?" Jaxon asked. "That she’s gone? Rune is no fool. He will never fall for a simple disappearance. He didn't become the Conqueror by believing convenient lies."

"No," Vane interrupted, his tone turning cold and clinical. "We don't tell him she's gone. We tell him she’s dead."

The room went deathly silent. At the mention of the word, I felt a strange, sharp pang in my chest—a completely unwanted and involuntary reaction.

"If she is dead," Vane argued, warming to the idea, "Rune has no further reason to burn our forests or siege our walls. A dead girl is no longer a key to a prophecy; she’s just a tragic memory. He will mourn, he will rage, and then he will eventually withdraw to lick his wounds. His spies will follow him back across the border. Dead girls don't start wars, Alpha."

Kaelen rubbed his chin, his mind working through the logistics. "The idea has merit, certainly. But Rune has trackers whose senses are even sharper than mine. If he demands to see the body, or if one of his scouts catches even a faint whiff of her living scent, the lie will become our collective execution warrant. Faking a death-scent for someone of her specific Lockwood lineage... that isn't my specialty. I can mask a smell, but I cannot mimic the specific, heavy rot of a Lockwood's passing."

"I like that we are all jumping in on the idea, but we need to look at this critically," Yvonne explained, but Kaelen held up a hand.

"That is where your Khalid comes in," Kaelen continued, looking directly at me.

"My Khalid?" Yvonne rolled her eyes with a huff. "Please, he is not my Khalid." I wanted to tease her that kissing someone usually makes the person yours in the eyes of the pack, but I knew that would bring this serious meeting to a premature and sour end.

"Well, he is an alchemist of the Crescent Moon," Kaelen spoke smugly. "He knows the chemistry of their trackers better than anyone. If anyone can brew a decoction that smells of her blood and her final passing, it is him. We need him to make the lie breathable."

I drummed my fingers rhythmically on the table, the sound echoing like a drumbeat. "Find Khalid. Offer him whatever he wants, even if it requires another kiss from our Right Hand. If Rune believes she is a corpse, we keep the girl as our prisoner, and we keep our lives." I didn't look over, but I felt Yvonne stiffen beside me.

After the council adjourned, I returned to my private chambers, the weight of the plan sitting heavy on my shoulders. I was standing by the balcony window, watching the moon climb higher into the sky, when the door creaked open.

Sara entered, carrying a tray of fresh bandages and a basin of warm, herb-infused water. She was dressed in the simple, drab gray linen of the servants, but she still carried herself with a quiet, infuriatingly noble grace that no rag could ever truly hide.

"I am here to check the progress of the tissue regeneration," she said, her voice neutral and devoid of emotion. She didn't kneel. She didn't look at the floor in submission. She simply stood and waited for my compliance.

"Come," I commanded, sitting on the edge of my bed and stripping my shirt off.

The scars where the black veins had once throbbed were still pink, tender, and sensitive. As she stepped closer, the air in the room seemed to thicken with tension. I watched her hands—the very same hands that had pulled the light out of her own soul to mend mine.

She dipped a soft cloth into the warm water and began to clean the area around my side. Her touch was professional and distant, yet the moment her fingers grazed my skin, a jolt of intense heat raced through me. It wasn't the magical healing this time; it was something carnal, something primal and territorial that I didn't fully recognize.

"You’re doing a poor job on the left side," I lied, my voice dropping an octave as I watched her. I reached out, my hand closing firmly over her wrist to guide her hand lower. Her skin was incredibly soft, surprisingly so for someone who had spent her recent days scrubbing stone floors. "There is a persistent tightness here. Rub it."

Sara stiffened, her striking blue eyes finally meeting mine. "That is simple muscle tension, Alpha. It is not the toxin."

"I don't care what it is," I said, my grip on her wrist tightening. "You are my personal attendant now. Your skills belong to me. Your hands belong to me."

I found myself making up excuses just to keep her there longer. I demanded she check the marks on my shoulder and the faint bruising on my ribs. Every time she touched me, I felt a surge of possessiveness that was as unwanted as it was intense. I hated her for being a Lockwood. I hated her for being the catalyst that brought Rune to my throat. And most importantly, I hated her for being the one who had supposedly killed Claudia.

But as she leaned over me, her unique scent—that maddening, intoxicating mix of bluebells and something sharp and medicinal—filled my senses. I realized, with a start, that I didn't just want her as a slave. I wanted her as a permanent fixture in my life. I wanted to see her at my bedside every single morning. I wanted to be the only man who ever felt the heat of her touch.

"You will report to me every evening for this," I told her, my eyes roaming hungrily over the elegant curve of her neck. "Personally. You are not to report to Nayomi or the head healer. You report to me."

"Yvonne will not like that arrangement," Sara whispered, her voice remarkably steady despite how close I was.

"Yvonne is my Right Hand," I snapped, the possessiveness flaring into a small spark of anger. "But you... you are the girl who saved the Alpha. You stay close to the source of your protection, Sara. Don't ever forget that."

She pulled her hand away, but the ghost of her touch lingered on my skin like a hot brand. I watched her leave the room, unable to look away from the gentle, rhythmic sway of her hips. My wolf started pacing in the back of my mind, growling a low, dangerous rhythm: mine, mine, mine. She was a prisoner, a reject, a slave, and now a tool for a fake death. After the world believed her buried, I would be able to do with her as I pleased. But as the door closed, I knew one thing for certain: I wasn't letting her go. Not to Rune, and certainly not to the grave.

"You are smiling sheepishly," I heard Yvonne’s icy tone and looked up to see her standing in the doorway. "And to yourself, no less. Is everything okay, Tristan? Should I be worried?"

I looked up at her with a flicker of mischief in my eyes, masking my true thoughts. "Everything is perfectly alright, Yvonne. I’m just excited that we are about to get one over on Rune. First, I put his men in a coma and he couldn't do anything about it; now, I get to take his girl away forever."

I lied through my teeth. The truth was far more complicated: Sara's tender, reluctant touch was the only reason I was smiling.