Chapter 98

The house arrest began immediately, with guards posted outside my quarters ostensibly for my protection but actually to ensure I couldn't continue my investigation or contact potential allies. My room became a prison, comfortable but confining.

Raymond arrived within hours to formally explain my new situation, his expression a mixture of righteous anger and cold determination. The magical conditioning had transformed him into someone I barely recognized—authoritarian, paranoid, completely convinced of his own righteousness.

"This is for your own good," he said, though his tone suggested he was trying to convince himself as much as me. "The psychiatric evaluation will help us understand what's driven you to these paranoid delusions."

"I'm not delusional," I said quietly, maintaining what dignity I could despite my circumstances. "Giana is exactly what I've been telling you she is—a traitor working with rogues to destroy this pack from within."

Raymond's face hardened, his jaw clenching with barely controlled anger. "Still clinging to these lies? Even now, when everyone can see how unstable you've become?"

The magical conditioning made him completely incapable of accepting any evidence that contradicted his beliefs about Giana. It was like trying to reason with someone in a dream—logic and evidence simply couldn't penetrate the artificial reality she'd created in his mind.

"No amount of evidence or reasoning can reach you anymore, can it?" I asked with growing despair, watching his face for any flicker of the boy I'd once known.

"The only thing unreasonable here is your refusal to accept reality," Raymond replied coldly, beginning to pace my quarters like a caged animal. "Giana loves me. I love her. Your jealousy has twisted that simple truth into an elaborate conspiracy theory."

I watched helplessly as he moved through my quarters, personally overseeing the search for any remaining evidence. Every photograph, every recording, every piece of documentation we'd gathered was systematically destroyed under his direct supervision.

Kane stood in the doorway during the search, maintaining his professional composure despite witnessing the destruction of our work. His silence continued to cut deeper than Raymond's anger, a constant reminder of how completely our partnership had collapsed.

"Are you going to let him destroy everything we worked for?" I asked Kane directly, hoping to provoke some reaction.

Kane's response was measured and neutral, devastating in its careful precision: "The Alpha has made his decision regarding the evidence."

The careful phrasing maintained his position while offering me no support. He was choosing diplomatic language over truth, professional safety over our partnership, fear over love.

Raymond noticed Kane's neutral stance and seemed pleased by it, nodding approvingly. "At least someone around here maintains proper objectivity. Kane understands that personal feelings can't override professional judgment."

The irony was crushing—Raymond praising Kane for the exact kind of emotional detachment that was destroying our ability to fight Giana's conspiracy. The Alpha was celebrating the very weakness that would doom us all.

"This isn't objectivity," I said desperately, my voice rising despite my attempts to remain calm. "This is cowardice disguised as professionalism."

Kane's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the only sign that my words had any effect on him. But his expression remained carefully neutral, giving Raymond no reason to question his loyalty or commitment.

"Your evaluation is scheduled for tomorrow morning," Raymond announced as the search concluded. "Dr. Morrison will conduct a thorough psychological assessment to determine the extent of your... condition."

The threat was clear and immediate. Dr. Morrison was known for his conservative views and his tendency to side with pack leadership in controversial situations. An evaluation by him would likely result in a diagnosis that supported Raymond's narrative of my mental instability.

"Until then, you're confined to these quarters," Raymond continued, his voice carrying the authority of someone who brooked no argument. "Guards will be posted outside to ensure your safety and prevent any further... incidents."

The word 'incidents' was clearly meant to encompass my investigation into Giana's activities. I was being painted as someone whose erratic behavior posed a threat to pack stability and security.

Kane accepted an assignment to help monitor me, a cruel irony that highlighted how completely our partnership had collapsed. The man who had once been my strongest ally was now actively participating in my imprisonment.

"I tried to reach you one last time," I said when Raymond had finished his arrangements, making one final desperate attempt to break through the magical conditioning. "She tried to kill you, Raymond. She doesn't love you—she's using you. The minute you stop being useful to her, she'll try again."

For just a moment, confusion flickered across Raymond's features. Some buried part of his consciousness seemed to be struggling against the magical conditioning, trying to process my warning about his own safety.

But the moment passed quickly, replaced by renewed anger and suspicion. The conditioning was too strong, too deeply embedded to be overcome by simple warnings or appeals to reason.

"These delusions are getting worse," he said coldly, turning away from me with dismissive finality. "Perhaps isolation will help you regain some perspective on reality."

Kane remained silent throughout the exchange, his professional mask intact even as I made a final desperate attempt to save Raymond from Giana's manipulation. His refusal to support even my concern for Raymond's safety felt like the ultimate betrayal.

"You know I'm right," I said to Kane as Raymond prepared to leave, my voice carrying a note of desperation. "But you're too much of a coward to say it."

Kane's response was coldly professional, each word carefully chosen: "I'm here to ensure your safety and compliance with the Alpha's directives."

The formal language reduced our entire relationship to a security protocol. Everything we'd shared, every moment of connection and partnership, had been dismissed as irrelevant to his current duties.

After Raymond left, Kane took up position outside my quarters like a professional guard. His presence was both comforting and torturous—a reminder of what we'd lost and what I was facing alone.

The hours stretched on in oppressive silence. I could hear Kane's measured footsteps as he paced outside my door, maintaining his watch with military precision. Occasionally, I caught glimpses of him through the window—always alert, always professional, always maintaining the emotional distance that was destroying us both.

Giana visited later that evening, her expression carefully arranged in a mask of concerned sympathy. She entered my quarters with a tea tray, acting as though she cared about my wellbeing in my time of crisis.

"I brought you some tea," she said sweetly, setting the tray on my small table. "I thought you might be having trouble sleeping."

The casual way she walked into my prison, acting as though she cared about my comfort, was almost more infuriating than her earlier lies. Her performance was flawless—the picture of a concerned friend trying to help during a difficult time.

"Still playing the concerned friend?" I asked bitterly, not bothering to hide my disgust.

"I'm trying to help you," Giana replied with false sincerity, settling into the chair across from me. "This breakdown you're experiencing—it's not your fault. Arranged marriages can be very difficult emotionally, especially when there's no real love involved."

"We both know what you really are," I said quietly, meeting her gaze directly.

Giana's mask slipped for just a moment, revealing the cold calculation underneath. "What I am is Raymond's chosen mate. What you are is a discarded Luna clinging to relevance."

The truth was finally out—Giana's real feelings about me and my position. But with Kane maintaining his professional silence and Raymond completely under her control, the truth was meaningless.

"You won't win," I said, though the words felt hollow even to me.

"I already have," Giana replied with quiet confidence. "Tomorrow's evaluation will confirm what everyone already suspects—that you're mentally unstable and unfit for your position. After that, removing you will be simple administrative procedure."

As she left, gliding from my quarters with satisfied grace, I realized that tomorrow's psychiatric evaluation would likely be the final step in removing me as a threat to her plans. Once I was declared mentally incompetent, she'd have free rein to complete whatever conspiracy she was orchestrating.

The night stretched on endlessly. Through my window, I could see Kane maintaining his vigil, a solitary figure in the moonlight. His dedication to duty was admirable, but his emotional withdrawal was killing any chance we had of stopping Giana's plans.

I was running out of time, and I was facing it completely alone. The conspiracy that had already claimed multiple lives was about to claim its biggest victory yet—the complete neutralization of the only person who knew the truth about what was really happening.

Kane's fear had already won, and tomorrow would make it official.