Chapter 168: The Weight of Doubt

Lucian's POV

I watched Saber and Jenna guide Vespera through the trees, her injured leg dragging slightly, shoulders hunched under the weight of everything she'd supposedly endured tonight.

"Keep her safe," I called after them, keeping my voice level and concerned. "She's been through hell. Don't leave her alone for a second."

Saber nodded without looking back. They disappeared into the darkness, Vespera's soft whimpers fading with distance.

The moment they were out of sight, I let the mask drop. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Something was wrong. Every instinct I'd honed over twenty years as Kaelen's Beta was screaming at me, but I couldn't pin down exactly what had triggered the alarm bells.

I turned back to Orion's body, sprawled in the clearing like a broken doll. The message carved into his back mocked me with every ragged letter.

"Keep looking," I said. My voice came out harder than I intended. "Expand the search radius. Check every fucking tree, every disturbed leaf. They can't have vanished completely."

The warriors scattered. I was alone with Orion's corpse and the nagging sense that I'd just been played.

So Damien had actually shown up this time? Then the attacker from days ago was an imposter? And this one tonight—this one was supposed to be the real deal? How many Damiens were there exactly?

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to replay Vespera's story from start to finish. Midnight call from Seraphine. Desperate Luna demanding help to reach Ironfall, threatening consequences if Vespera refused. Vespera, the broken omega with no power to say no, agreeing to escort her through dangerous territory. Then the ambush—perfectly timed, perfectly positioned. Damien and his wolves appearing like they'd been waiting. Orion dying to buy time. Vespera getting injured but conveniently spared. Damien retreating with Seraphine just as I arrived.

It was a good story. Logical. Explained every piece of evidence scattered across this blood-soaked clearing. Except it didn't. Not really.

I opened my eyes, staring at the dark forest without seeing it. The first crack in Vespera's narrative was so obvious I couldn't believe I'd almost missed it. Seraphine calling her for help? Seraphine, who days ago had been sick with worry yet refused to trust anything Vespera said, who'd demanded I relay the information instead—she'd threatened Vespera to help her get to Ironfall?

And Vespera's explanation—I'm just a lowly omega, how could I refuse the Luna's orders?—that was bullshit too. How could she not only tolerate the existence of the woman who'd stolen Kaelen from her, but actually submit to threats and help Seraphine? I'd seen the hatred burning in Vespera's eyes when she looked at Kaelen's mate. Women like that didn't just roll over and obey.

Unless she had her own reasons for agreeing. Unless she'd been waiting for exactly this kind of opportunity.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling sweat cool against my scalp despite the night chill. The second problem was worse. Much worse.

Damien had killed Orion. Carved a message into his back. Kidnapped Seraphine. But he'd left Vespera alive.

Vespera's explanation—he heard you coming and retreated—didn't hold water either. If Damien was smart enough to plan this ambush, to coordinate his wolves, to outmaneuver our patrols, he was smart enough to know that killing Vespera would take five seconds. Less.

So why hadn't he? Why leave her breathing, bleeding, ready to run back and tell us everything?

A possibility crystallized in my mind like ice forming over still water. What if he wanted her to tell us? What if her story was part of the plan? What if Vespera wasn't a survivor—she was a fucking messenger?

Or worse. What if she was the one who'd helped orchestrate this whole thing?

Cold sweat broke out across my back. The idea felt insane, but I couldn't shake it. If Damien and Vespera knew each other... if they'd coordinated this... then everything we thought we knew was wrong. The attack on Seraphine's window weeks ago—that had required inside information. Someone who knew the layout of the packhouse, the patrol schedules, which room was Seraphine's.

What if the traitor wasn't some disgruntled warrior or ambitious Beta from another pack? What if it was the broken, discarded omega that everyone pitied and no one suspected?

Vespera knew everything. She'd been Kaelen's lover for years. She'd had access to pack meetings, strategy sessions, private conversations. She knew our defenses, our weak points, our routines. And after Kaelen chose Seraphine, after her public humiliation... she had motive.

God, she had so much fucking motive.

My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists, trying to steady myself. This was insane. Vespera loved Kaelen—everyone had seen it. The desperation in her eyes when she looked at him, the way she'd clung to any scrap of attention he gave her. You couldn't fake that kind of obsession.

But love twisted into hate faster than anything else in this world. And an omega scorned by her Alpha, replaced by a human girl with no status and no power... that was the kind of pain that could drive someone to unthinkable betrayals.

If someone had approached Vespera in her darkest moment—if Damien or whoever he was working for had offered her revenge, offered her a chance to destroy the woman who'd stolen everything from her—would she have taken it?

The thought made me sick. Maybe. She might have.

I thought about the pack meeting days ago, when we'd discussed the traitor problem. Tonight's ambush showed the same pattern. Perfect timing. Perfect positioning. Someone had told them where Seraphine would be, when Orion would be alone with her, how long it would take me to arrive.

If—and it was still an if, no matter how much my gut screamed otherwise—if Vespera was feeding information to Damien, then nothing we did was safe. Every strategy, every plan, every defensive measure—all of it compromised. And she was back in Shadowmere right now, being treated like a victim, being protected by warriors who had no idea she might be the enemy.

But I could be wrong. Fuck, I hoped I was wrong. If I accused Vespera and she was innocent, we'd waste precious time investigating her instead of searching for Seraphine. And if Kaelen found out I'd suspected his former lover based on nothing but gut instinct and circumstantial evidence...

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to think clearly through the adrenaline and exhaustion. Kaelen had left me in charge. Told me to protect Seraphine, protect the pack. I'd failed at the first part—Seraphine was gone, in Damien's hands, probably being tortured or worse. I couldn't fail at the second part too.

I had no proof. Nothing concrete. Just a collection of inconsistencies that could be explained away as trauma, confusion, bad luck. But the pattern was there. The logic didn't add up. And my instincts had kept this pack alive for two decades.

If there was even a chance Vespera was a traitor, I had to tell Kaelen. Had to voice my suspicions even if it made me look paranoid, even if it added to his pain. He could decide whether my suspicions were worth investigating or just the paranoid delusions of a Beta who'd failed to protect his Luna.

My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I pulled it out, stared at Kaelen's contact for a long moment. The screen's glow illuminated Orion's body at my feet, the carved message still visible on his torn back.

What if this wasn't over? What if Damien's plan had more stages, more attacks? If Vespera was working with him, coming back to the packhouse wasn't surrender—it was positioning. Getting herself close to the center of power right when we were most vulnerable, most desperate for answers.

I took a deep breath, thumb hovering over Kaelen's name, pressed the call button.

"Alpha. We're in big trouble..."