Chapter 150

Chapter 150
Lyra's POV

"Is Varyn's current location near the club?" I frowned, seeking confirmation.

"No," Cian paused, then explained the reason for his presence at the arena. "Didn't you say before that Varyn is skilled at disguising himself as others? I came early to familiarize myself with the people here, so if he shows up later, I can recognize him immediately."

His denial brought me a slight sense of relief, but remembering his impulsive behavior over these past days, I still couldn't suppress the reproach in my tone.

"Cian, are you planning to face Varyn alone? Do you want to be hypnotized by him again?"

On the other end of the line, Cian's temper flared slightly. "If the Alpha assigned this task to me, it means he trusts me to handle it well."

"My father told you to track his location, not to face him alone, and certainly not to use yourself as bait."

Cian fell silent, but the stubbornness in that silence traveled through the phone line—I could almost see him with his neck stiffened in defiance.

I sighed, forcing myself to calm down and softening my tone. "Cian, you've never truly confronted Varyn before. You don't know how dangerous he is."

Thinking of how many times he might have crossed paths with Varyn these past days, I couldn't help but feel a wave of delayed fear wash over me.

I took a deep breath and spoke into the phone. "Now, leave there immediately. Next time his location appears there, tell me. I'll go with you."

The phone line remained silent for a long while, then he responded with a heavy sound of agreement.

Hearing him exit the arena, my suspended heart finally settled completely. Though he hadn't said anything conciliatory, at least he had listened to my arrangement.

After hanging up, I rested my phone on my knee, staring at the darkening reflection on the screen for a long time.

I had thought Cian had moved past that incident. The light in his eyes when he took on Father's tracking assignment had made me believe he'd found a way to pledge his loyalty to the Silvermoon Pack again.

But now it seemed he had merely found a different way to remain trapped in it. He was too eager to prove himself, to make amends, so eager that he'd forgotten that the last time he stood before Varyn, he hadn't even had room to resist.

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Kaelum's POV

The candlelight behind the screen flickered once.

I slowly removed the mask from my face, setting it beside the bronze mirror. In the mirror was a face torn apart by scars—that scar slashed diagonally from my left brow bone to my right cheekbone, as if someone had tried to split my face in half with a dull blade.

I stared at myself in the mirror, my fingers slowly tracing that raised ridge of flesh.

Why?

Orion stood at the highest point of the Northern Territory, with the northern packs bowing in submission to him, his woman standing beside him, the Blackwood family taking pride in him.

And I, though sharing the same blood, could only live behind a mask and a screen, relying on power granted by vampires to maintain my breathing, depending on vial after vial of modified Nightfall to suppress the beast inside me that could turn on me at any moment.

He stood in the light while I had to hide even from candlelight behind layers of concealment.

My fingers stopped on the scar, and I couldn't help but recall the day I was exiled. The elders of the Blackwood family sat in their arc-shaped seats, torches pulling the wrinkles on their faces into lines of shadow. When they pronounced the banishment order, their tone was like reading a law—stern and unquestionable.

I stood in the center of the hall, receiving that heavy judgment. There were no ropes, no shackles, but their gazes were heavier than any instrument of punishment.

I was young then, not fully understanding why everyone looked at me that way. Later I learned—because my hair was white, because my mother died the moment she gave birth to me.

Just because of these things, I was seen as a curse, driven out by my own people.

The face in the mirror suddenly smiled, the smile twisted by the scar into a strange arc.

"Orion," I spoke in a low, hoarse voice that echoed in the empty room like the prelude to some ancient curse. "Soon, everything you have will cease to exist."

I shifted my gaze from the bronze mirror to the topmost photograph on the wall, staring fixedly at that perfect face.

Footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door, followed by two short knocks.

"Patriarch."

It was Brock's voice, pressed lower and tighter than usual. "The person you asked me to monitor has a situation."

My fingers tracing the scar stopped in place.

I had only asked Brock to monitor Sylvia—that woman, the number one assassin on the rankings, who only took high-paying contracts, never failed, never hesitated.

Before Brock knocked, I had never imagined she would betray me.

I picked up the mask resting by the bronze mirror and covered my face again, adjusting the edges to fit along the path of the scar.

"Come in."

The door was pushed open. Brock passed through the screen, head lowered, extending a tablet toward me, his fingers trembling slightly at its edge.

I took the tablet and opened the video. In the footage, Sylvia stood by a windowsill, holding the medicine bottle I had personally given her. She unscrewed the cap and poured the liquid inside into the roots of a potted plant. Then she screwed the cap back on, returned the empty bottle to her pocket, and stood by the windowsill for a long time, as if making some decision that even she didn't fully understand.

My eyes narrowed for an instant, the corners of my mouth involuntarily curling into a cold smile as a surge of violent emotion briefly robbed me of my composure.

Why? First it was Lilith, the woman who climbed into my bed, who told Orion my secrets. Now it was Sylvia, the assassin who had never failed, pouring poison into a flowerpot.

Neither of them had moved against Orion, but instead, without exception, they had chosen to betray me.

Those I had personally selected, empowered, and sheltered were leaving me one by one.

And around Orion, there were always people willing to take bullets for him, break into dungeons for him, build for him one loyalty after another that I could never possess.

All I could force from people was fear, while those around Orion gave their loyalty willingly.

I didn't voice these thoughts. The expression beneath my mask remained calm, my voice without the slightest fluctuation.

I returned the tablet to Brock. "It seems I'll have to handle this personally."

Brock kept his head lowered, interpreting my tone, then spoke cautiously after a few seconds. "Patriarch, do you need your subordinate to help you clean up Sylvia?"

I let out a cold laugh and shook my head.

Brock was a loyal man, but he didn't understand—killing a traitor was easy. The real punishment was making her die at the hands of the person she chose to follow.

I spoke slowly, my voice devoid of any warmth. "Do you know how the Blackwood family deals with traitors?"

Brock's body visibly shook. He clearly hadn't anticipated this question.

"Your subordinate... has never learned about these matters before."

"Silver embedded in the spine," I said. Under his shocked gaze, I found myself with a rare patience for explanation. "Once embedded, the wolf spirit is permanently locked. The condemned can never shift into wolf form again, and even their most basic healing ability disappears. She's still alive, but she's no longer a werewolf."

I paused. "The Blackwood family has executed three traitors this way. Each one was buried alive."

"Since the Blackwood family has already begun to suspect Sylvia, I might as well give them a push. Let her know the price of betraying the Blood Moon Cult."

Before me, Brock's voice was still trembling. "You mean, you plan to frame Sylvia, to pin what you're about to do on her?"

I didn't answer. I simply stood up, walked to the window, and lifted a corner of the curtain. The night outside was deep, without a moon.

"Go now. You don't need to do anything—just keep watch over Sylvia."

After Brock left, I took out my phone and sent a message to Varyn: "Remember our cooperation? Varyn, during the next lunar eclipse, I'll need your help."