CATHERINE’S POV
Marcus’s pack had always favored strength over subtlety.
The Alpha residence reflected that philosophy, all dark wood, reinforced walls, and wide windows that did not soften the world beyond them, only frad it.
I stood near one of those windows now, my gaze resting not on the forest stretching endlessly into shadow, but on the faint reflection cast across the glass.
The darkness outside revealed nothing.
The glass, however, showed everything I needed to see.
Myself, composed and still.
The low, amber glow of the overhead lights.
And Marcus Draven, lounging far too comfortably against the edge of the table behind , as though the ground beneath his carefully constructed empire had not begun to shift.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said at last, his voice carrying that familiar edge of mockery that always grated against my patience. “That’s rarely a good sign.”
“Neither is incompetence,” I replied evenly without turning. “And yet here we are.”
A low chuckle followed.
“I see,” Marcus said, pushing himself off the table. “So we’re starting there tonight.”
"You had one job," I hissed.
"Hey, it’s not my fault Celeste wasn’t where she was supposed to be."
“You lost her.”
Marcus’s expression darkened. “She was moved.”
“Which ans you lost her,” I repeated, my voice cutting.
A flicker of anger flashed in his eyes.
“Watch your tone.”
“Or what?” I snapped. “You’ll fail at sothing else?”
The room seed to tighten around us.
For a mont, neither of us spoke.
Then Marcus let out a humorless laugh.
“This from the woman who couldn’t secure her primary target,” he shot back.
“Seraphina was never ant to be secured at that stage,” I said. “Celeste, however, was already contained.”
He didn’t answer.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, turning away from him again before my irritation could escalate into sothing less controlled. “You had one fucking job.”
“There was interference,” he said sharply.
“There’s always interference,” I replied. “That’s the nature of opposition. The difference between success and failure is whether you account for it.”
“And you accounted for Seraphina?” he countered.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
I forced down the thought of that last blow from Seraphina and her hidden friend that caught off guard.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the edge out of my tone before continuing.
“With Celeste out of reach, we’ve lost a leverage point,” I said. “Which leaves us with fewer options.”
Marcus’s expression shifted again, his frustration settling into sothing more calculated.
“Not necessarily,” he said.
I glanced at him.
“Oh?”
F“You still have Margaret.”
The na darkened the room like a shadow.
“Yes,” I said carefully. “I do.”
“Then use her,” he said bluntly. “Kill her. Complete the transfer. End the instability and move forward.”
For a mont, I simply stared at him.
Then I mimicked his humorless laugh.
“You really don’t understand what you’re suggesting, do you?”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “I understand enough.”
“No,” I said, my voice dropping. “You understand the outco. Not the risk.”
I stepped closer to him, closing the distance just enough to ensure he understood the seriousness of what I was about to say.
“If I mishandle that process,” I continued, “Margaret doesn’t just die, she transfers into ."
He arched a brow.
“She could overwrite ,” I went on. “Or worse—exist alongside . A second consciousness with equal claim to the power I’ve taken.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take eventually,” he said.
“Eventually,” I agreed. “Not prematurely.”
“And beyond that,” I added, stepping back slightly, “Margaret still has value.”
Marcus frowned. “As what?”
“As leverage,” I said simply.
His expression hardened. “We already tried that with Seraphina.”
“And we’ll try again,” I replied. “Under better conditions.”
"Better conditions." He scoffed.
"What?"
His expression was infuriatingly relaxed, but there was sothing else beneath it, sothing sharper, more calculating. The kind of look he wore when he believed he had found leverage.
"Say whatever it is you have to say," I snapped.
“Honestly,” he continued in a honey-sweet voice, “I’m just worried about you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Yes,” he continued, his tone shifting, losing so of its mockery in favor of sothing more probing. “Because I’m starting to wonder whether your judgnt is being compromised.”
My expression did not change. “By what, exactly?”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Sentint.”
I scoffed. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”
He shrugged. “Maybe Margaret’s power is affecting you more than you think. Just like it recognized Edward, maybe it recognizes Seraphina.”
For a mont, I simply stared at him.
Then I turned away from him again, my gaze returning to the reflection in the glass.
“If you’re trying to suggest that Seraphina’s existence is affecting my decision-making, you’re wasting your ti,” I said. “She is a variable. Nothing more.”
I could feel his gaze on , asuring, evaluating, searching for cracks that were not there.
“Variables can beco liabilities,” he said eventually.
“And liabilities can be eliminated,” I replied smoothly.
That seed to satisfy him—at least enough for him to shift the conversation.
“Then I assu you’re pleased,” he said.
“With what?”
“With the diversion,” he clarified. “Your coordinated attacks across Nightfang and Frostbane.”
I allowed myself a small, satisfied breath.
“Of course I am,” I said. “Unlike so aspects of this operation, that part went exactly as intended.”
I turned back to him, folding my arms loosely across my chest.
“Kieran’s pack should be dealing with the aftermath as we speak,” I continued. “Psychological disruption, fractured trust, lingering instability. Those kinds of wounds take ti to heal.”
Marcus’s expression flickered.
“Assuming the damage was as effective as you claim.”
“It was,” I said flatly.
Because I had felt it.
The hesitation.
The fracture.
The mont where instinct faltered under the weight of mory twisted into sothing grotesque.
Even if they recovered, the seed had been planted.
Doubt had a way of spreading.
Marcus studied for a mont longer before nodding.
“Fair enough,” he conceded. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Though I wouldn’t count on that being as effective as you think.”
My eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”
“Lucian,” he said.
At that, my patience thinned again.
“Don’t remind .”
The thought alone was enough to set my teeth on edge, souring my already frayed mood.
“He’s not cooperating,” Marcus continued. “Which is becoming increasingly inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” I echoed. “He’s becoming a liability.”
Locked in the lower levels, restrained, monitored, pressured from every angle—and still he refused to yield.
It would have been admirable under different circumstances.
Now, it was simply irritating.
“I’ve had him pushed to the edge,” I said. “Isolation. Psychological pressure. Controlled exposure to Zara.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” I snapped. “He bends, but he doesn’t break.”
The silence that followed was thick with shared frustration.
Because we both understood what that ant.
Without Lucian’s cooperation, the next phase stalled, and my instability worsened.
For a brief mont, neither of us spoke.
Then—
A knock.
Marcus and I both turned toward the door.
“Enter,” he said.
The door opened, and one of the lower-ranking guards stepped inside, posture rigid, eyes carefully lowered in deference.
“Report,” Marcus commanded.
The man swallowed once, then straightened slightly.
“There has been a developnt,” he said.
My attention sharpened instantly.
“What kind of developnt?”
He hesitated, then said, “Lucian Reed has agreed to cooperate.”
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