Chapter 221
Lynette's POV
I sat in the car and stared at the steering wheel.
My hands gripped it tight enough that my knuckles went white.
Harrison.
Blythe Harrison.
I already knew the truth. Kael's father had used his influence over the Harrison family to get Dad fired. Kael had told me himself, laid it all out like he was confessing his sins.
But knowing the truth and having leverage were two different things.
Right now the Harrison family thought they were following orders from their Alpha. They probably didn't even question it—just did what they were told like good little soldiers.
I needed to change that.
If I could make Blythe understand that he was just a pawn in someone else's game, that his family was being used... maybe I could turn him. Maybe I could crack open a weakness in the power structure that was trying to crush my family.
I turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.
Time to plant some seeds.
---
The afternoon sun was brutal when I pulled up to the Pinehollow training grounds.
Drake was already there with the rest of the guard unit, standing at attention in formation. Their postures were different today—straighter, more focused.
The other day they'd looked at me like I was some kind of joke. A girl playing soldier.
Today their eyes tracked me with something closer to respect.
I got out of the car and walked toward them. The gravel crunched under my boots and I could feel their attention sharpening with every step.
"Training Officer," Drake said, his voice crisp. "What's today's objective?"
I stopped in front of the formation and let my gaze sweep across their faces.
"Close quarters combat," I said. "Coordinated tactical response. You're going to learn how to move as a unit instead of a bunch of idiots tripping over each other."
One of the younger guards—Marcus, I think his name was—shifted his weight nervously.
I looked directly at him. "Problem?"
"No ma'am."
"Good. Then let's get started."
---
Three hours later they were all gasping for air and drenched in sweat.
I'd put them through hell—rapid formation changes, simulated ambush scenarios, hand-to-hand drills that left half of them with bruised ribs and egos.
But they'd kept up. Barely.
Drake wiped blood from his split lip and nodded at me. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time," I confirmed.
I didn't stick around for small talk. I had somewhere else to be.
---
I pulled up to Saint George just as the final bell rang.
Students poured out of the building in clusters, laughing and shoving each other. Normal teenage bullshit that felt like it belonged to a different universe.
I spotted Elara near the gate and flashed my headlights once.
She saw me and walked over quickly, sliding into the passenger seat.
"We need to talk to Blythe," I said without preamble.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Why?"
"Because he doesn't know he's being used," I said. "And people who realize they're pawns sometimes decide to flip the board."
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "What do you want me to do?"
No panic. No stammering. Just steady focus.
I felt that flicker of pride again.
"You get him alone," I said. "Somewhere quiet. Tell him you need to talk about what happened with your dad. I'll stay close and watch."
"You want me to make him feel guilty," she said.
Smart girl.
"I want you to make him think," I corrected. "There's a difference."
She nodded. "Okay."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
I believed her.
---
We waited outside the gate for maybe ten minutes before Blythe appeared.
He looked like shit—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders hunched, the kind of defeated posture you see on soldiers after they've lost too many battles.
Elara took a deep breath and walked toward him.
I hung back near a cluster of trees, close enough to hear but far enough that I wouldn't spook him.
"Blythe," Elara said quietly.
He stopped and looked up. Surprise flickered across his face, followed immediately by wariness.
"Elara. What do you want?"
She bit her lip—a nervous gesture that looked completely natural. "I wanted to talk. About yesterday."
He glanced around like he was checking for witnesses. "There's nothing to talk about."
"I know things are hard with Sophia right now," Elara continued, her voice soft and apologetic. "And I'm sorry if I made it worse."
That caught him off guard. His defenses dropped just a fraction.
"It's not your fault," he muttered.
Elara took a small step closer. "Can we sit? Just for a minute?"
He hesitated, then nodded.
They walked over to a small garden area with benches tucked between flowering bushes. I moved silently to a better vantage point behind a thick oak tree.
Blythe sat down heavily and Elara settled beside him, leaving careful space between them.
"Sophia really cares about you," Elara said. "I can see that."
He laughed bitterly. "Yeah. She cares so much she screams at me in front of the whole school."
"She's hurt," Elara said gently. "People do stupid things when they're hurt."
Blythe rubbed his face with both hands. "I know. I just... I can't deal with this right now. I've got too much other shit going on."
Elara's expression shifted to concern. "Is everything okay?"
"Not really." He stared at the ground. "Family stuff."
This was the opening.
Elara's voice dropped lower, more hesitant. "Actually... my family's going through something too."
Blythe looked at her. "Yeah?"
"My dad got fired." She said it quietly, like she was ashamed. "From the Harrison factory. After fifteen years."
I watched Blythe's body language shift instantly.
His spine went rigid. His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists on his knees.
There it was. Guilt written all over him.
"That's... that's rough," he said, but his voice sounded strangled.
"They said he violated safety protocols," Elara continued. "But my dad is so careful about that stuff. He always has been."
Blythe wouldn't meet her eyes. "Maybe it was just... company policy. Standard procedure."
"My mom went to the factory yesterday to ask for details." Elara's voice was so innocent, so genuinely confused. "They couldn't even tell her which specific regulation he violated."
Blythe's face had gone pale.
"Your family controls that factory, right?" Elara asked. "Do you think you could help me find out what really happened?"
"I don't..." Blythe stammered. "I don't know anything about the factory operations."
Liar.
Every muscle in his body was screaming guilt.
He looked down at his hands and was quiet for a long moment.
I could see the war happening inside him—the part that wanted to help versus the part that was terrified of the consequences.
Then he spoke, so quietly I almost didn't hear him.
"Some things aren't my decision to make."
Elara leaned forward slightly. "What do you mean?"
"My father got orders from above," Blythe said, still staring at his hands. "He had to execute them. The factory is just... it's just a tool. The real person who gave the order was—"
He stopped abruptly, like he'd just realized what he was saying.
I stayed perfectly still. This was the critical moment. If he said it out loud, if he admitted that his family was just following someone else's commands, then the seed would be planted.
He'd start questioning. Start resenting. Start wondering why his family had to do someone else's dirty work.
"Who gave the order?" Elara pressed gently.
Blythe opened his mouth.
"ELARA GREY!"
The screech came from behind us and I turned to see Sophia storming across the lawn like an avenging harpy.
Fuck.
She shoved past Elara and planted herself between them, her face blotchy and red with fury.
"How dare you!" she spat. "How dare you try to steal him again!"
I stepped out from behind the tree.
Sophia's head whipped toward me and her eyes went wide with shock before narrowing into slits of pure hatred.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "Another one of her little helpers?"