Chapter 104

Aurora's POV

Intelligence reports arrived throughout the day like drops of poison, each one more disturbing than the last. Raymond's response to the hearing's outcome wasn't just political posturing—he was systematically escalating toward actual warfare.

"Blood Moon warriors have been mobilized to active status," reported Captain Morrison, the Alpha King's chief of intelligence. "Alpha Raymond has also reached out to allied packs, claiming the Alpha King is harboring a dangerous fugitive."

I felt sick listening to the briefing. My victory at the hearing was transforming into a catastrophe that could engulf multiple territories.

"Our latest intelligence suggests Alpha Raymond's interests are very…focused on one subject." Captain Morrison continued, his discomfort obvious. "He's conducting personal interrogations now. The questions have become increasingly invasive."

"What kind of questions?" I asked, though part of me didn't want to know.

Morrison glanced at his notes uncomfortably. "He's demanding intimate details about your daily routines. Your emotional state. Your interactions with Kane. Some questions are... inappropriate for any Alpha to ask about another's mate."

The room fell silent. This wasn't strategic intelligence gathering—this was the interrogation methods of an obsessed predator.

"He's forcing pack members to describe your relationship," Morrison continued reluctantly. "Your conversations, your body language, any perceived intimacy. The sessions can last for days."

My stomach churned as I imagined Sarah or Jasmine being forced to recount private moments, being tortured for information that didn't even exist.

I shot to my feet, my chair clattering backward. "I have to go back. I have to help them."

Kane was beside me instantly, his hand gripping my arm. "You'll only make it worse."

"Worse?" I spun to face him, rage boiling over. "How could it possibly be worse? He's torturing innocent people for information about feelings that don't even exist!"

Kane's face hardened. "Going back won't stop the interrogations. It will only give him what he wants."

"What he wants is to hurt people I care about!" I exploded, trying to pull free from his grip. "They're suffering because of me, and you want me to just sit here and do nothing?"

"I want you to think with your head instead of your heart," Kane replied coldly. "Emotional decisions get people killed."

The casual dismissal sent fury coursing through me. "These aren't just 'people,' Kane. They're my friends. My family. Sarah held me when I cried after my first heartbreak. Michael taught me to fight when my father said I was too weak. Jasmine braided my hair for my wedding day."

Something flickered in Kane's eyes, but his expression remained neutral. "And going back will get them killed faster than anything Raymond could do to them."

"So I should abandon them? Let them suffer while I hide behind political immunity?"

"You should honor their sacrifice by staying alive long enough to make it mean something," Kane said harshly. "Running back to Blood Moon won't save them—it will only satisfy your need to feel like you're doing something."

"You think this is about me feeling better?"

"I think you're so consumed with guilt that you're willing to throw away everything we've worked for," Kane replied with brutal honesty. "Your capture won't end their suffering. It will only give Raymond everything he's been torturing them to learn."

"And what about what you've worked for?" I shot back. "This isn't about strategy, is it? It's about protecting your precious mission."

Kane's composure cracked slightly. "This is about completing an investigation that could save thousands of lives."

"No," I said, stepping closer. "This is about you being terrified that if something happens to me, you'll have to feel something real instead of hiding behind your professional walls."

Kane's face went through several expressions before settling on cold fury. "You want to know what's real? The real truth is that your guilt is making you stupid. You're so desperate to play martyr that you can't see you'd be giving Raymond exactly what he wants."

"And you're so desperate to avoid feeling anything that you'd let innocent people suffer rather than risk losing your emotional armor."

Other council members had turned to stare at our confrontation, their faces reflecting shock at the venom in our exchange.

Kane immediately stepped back, his professional mask slamming into place. "Perhaps this discussion should continue privately."

"No," I said firmly. "Let them hear this. Let them know that Kane values his emotional safety more than people's lives."

Kane's jaw clenched. "That's enough."

"Is it? When is enough actually enough, Kane? When my friends are dead? When the conspiracy succeeds because we were too careful to take any real risks?"

The Alpha King called for a recess, his expression troubled. As advisors filed out, murmuring with obvious discomfort, I could feel their assessment of our partnership shifting from professional respect to concerned speculation.

During the recess, despite our personal conflict, we worked together to analyze broader intelligence patterns. Hours spent studying encrypted communications began revealing a conspiracy that made Blood Moon's problems seem minor.

"The coordination suggests centralized command," Kane observed. "These aren't random attacks—they're systematic infiltration of pack leadership."

"Look at this pattern," I said, spreading out communications we'd decoded. "Pack leaders experiencing sudden personality changes. Policies that weaken territorial defenses. Strategic decisions that only make sense if viewed as sabotage."

As we worked together, I felt echoes of our old partnership. His tactical mind complemented my analytical skills perfectly, creating insights neither of us could achieve alone.

But the emotional distance he maintained made every interaction painful. We were functioning as colleagues rather than partners, connected by duty rather than trust.

The decoded messages revealed something that made my blood run cold. The conspiracy wasn't just about controlling individual pack leaders—it was orchestrated by someone calling himself the "Rogue King."

"A former Alpha who rejected pack society," Kane explained. "Intelligence suggests he was exiled for attempting a coup against the traditional pack hierarchy."

"He commands resources rivaling the Alpha King," I added. "Weapons, territory, followers who share his vision of overthrowing the established order."

The Alpha King's expression grew increasingly grim as we revealed the scope of the threat. "How many territories show signs of infiltration?"

"At least seven that we can confirm," Kane replied. "Possibly more where the manipulation has been subtle enough to avoid detection."

During one late-night session in the archives, I tried once more to reach the man beneath Kane's professional barriers.

"We make a good team," I said quietly. "When we trust each other."

Kane's response was carefully neutral. "Professional collaboration is essential for mission success."

The bureaucratic language was like a knife to my heart. He was reducing our partnership to institutional requirements, stripping away any personal connection.

But I caught him watching me with an expression of barely concealed pain when he thought I wasn't looking.

The most disturbing revelation came when we discovered evidence suggesting the Rogue King had a powerful mate working as his primary operative.

"The intelligence patterns suggest someone with intimate knowledge of pack politics and security protocols," Kane analyzed. "Not just a recruited agent, but a primary planner with deep access to classified information."

"Someone who's been inside pack society for years," I realized with growing horror. "Building networks, gathering intelligence, positioning pieces for the final assault."

The implications were terrifying. The Rogue King's mate could be anyone—a respected pack member, a trusted advisor, even someone in a position of leadership.

As we prepared to present our findings to the Alpha King, Kane made his position brutally clear.

"This investigation is about protecting territories from external threats," he said formally. "Personal considerations cannot interfere with objective analysis."

His message was unmistakable. Whatever we'd once shared was subordinate to his professional duties.

That night, as I reviewed our intelligence in my quarters, I realized the scope of what we were facing. The Rogue King wasn't just another enemy—he was someone who understood pack society intimately enough to exploit its weaknesses with surgical precision.

And somewhere among the people we trusted, his mate was continuing her work, manipulating events toward the final destruction of everything we held dear.

The real war was just beginning, and we were already behind.